Dear Reid
Title: Dear Reid
Author: Myrna1_2_3
Fandom: As the World Turns
Characters/Pairings: Luke/Reid
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Six months after the accident, Reid performed his first surgery.
Disclaimer: Not-not-mine
Author's Notes: This story isn’t part of any existing universe. Just a little fix-it fic. As always, never get your medical advice from poorly researched fanfiction.
Six months after the accident, Reid performed his first surgery. It was, pardon the pun, a no-brainer of a clot removal, but God damn it, his hands had been as steady as ever; no knee, hip, pelvis pain, just sheer brilliance from start to finish. Sure, he was still a few months away from a ten-hour marathon session, but there was no denying that Doctor Reid Oliver was back.
Bob was, of course, hovering like a nervous father-to-be outside of the operating room, and his knowing smirk at Reid’s characteristic bravado didn’t mean he was any less pleased and relieved. Bob had insisted on a ridiculous celebratory dinner, attended by every far-flung member of the Hughes family within a two hundred mile radius of Oakdale. Reid, having procured the heart for Chris’ transplant just days before his car accident, was still something of a hero to the Hughes, and Reid would put up with just about anything for a barbecue.
Chris had been almost as thrilled as Katie over Reid’s successful surgery, and Reid had rolled his eyes at their vocal delight and feigned annoyance even though the million-watt grin perpetually plastered on his face ensured he was fooling exactly no one.
It wasn’t until Reid was retiring for the night that he realized there hadn’t been a single, awkward inquiry as to Luke’s whereabouts. Not one person asked him where Luke was or how he was doing. Mm. Katie, Reid supposed.
Reid sighed, all the pride he was feeling at his stellar accomplishment replaced with the ever-simmering shame at what he’d done to accomplish it.
Reid didn’t remember the actual accident. Witnesses said that Reid was stopped at a railroad crossing when a teenager, talking on her cell phone had hit him from behind, forcing his car onto the tracks. Reid had barely managed to extricate himself, the force of the impact from the train hitting the car enough to shatter the fleeing Reid’s left side from hip to toe. It was a miracle he’d escaped a serious head injury or injury to any other vital organ. Or to his hands.
Reid felt anything but lucky when he regained consciousness and heard a catalogue of his injuries, not to mention the doctor’s timetable for his recovery. A year before he’d be back on his feet in an operating room? I don’t fucking think so.
Within a week, Reid had a detailed rehab plan and a physical therapist whose selection was based solely on his being the only therapist who would agree to Reid’s aggressive timeline. And within that same week, Reid told a still shell-shocked Luke that he would no longer be permitted to contact him.
“What did I do wrong?” Luke had asked, white-faced and horrified. “Reid, I’m sorry! Just tell me what I did wrong!”
Reid had tried to explain rationally, calmly. He had tried to make sure Luke understood it had little to do with him at all, and everything to do with Reid needing to focus every ounce of energy and determination and will toward the goal of recovery. He couldn’t afford to worry about how tired Luke looked; how forlorn and loss and heartbroken Luke seemed to be. Reid couldn’t afford the emotional attachment, because the energy he lost over it could mean the difference between regaining his life or losing it altogether.
It was awful of him, Reid knew that. He wasn’t one to delude himself and pretend like letting Luke go was some kind of noble gesture to free Luke from life with a potentially gimpy partner. If having Luke at hand would have improved Reid’s chances of getting back on his feet, he would have tethered Luke to his bedside with torn bed sheets.
No. Reid needed a clear head and an empty dance card to get himself back to a hundred percent.
In the span of an afternoon, Luke traveled through the five stages of grief-denying Reid meant what he was saying; yelling at Reid that he was being selfish and cruel; begging Reid to just let him call or visit sporadically or send emails-anything, anything; crying pitifully, quietly while Reid lay there like stone; and finally wiping his eyes, now empty of emotion, and promising to leave Reid alone.
And then followed the six hardest, most gut-wrenching, soul crushing months of Reid’s entire life. Reid had never in his life been afraid of hard work, mental or physical, but those six months of rehab were a blur of pain and misery and joy and amazement and every God damn day brought him lower than he imagined a human being could go and higher than he ever imagined possible. He fought for every centimeter of improvement, for every second he stood upright and when he finally walked into the hospital like a victorious general returning home from the war, he deserved every last slap on the back and congratulatory handshake.
And if he missed Luke, if the ache in his hip was nothing next to the ache in his heart; well, Reid understood that there were sacrifices you had to make in this life, and standing in that OR, the familiar sound of a buzz saw as beautiful to his ear as a mother’s lullaby, Reid Oliver knew he’d made the right choice.
That is, until four days later when he ran in to Noah Mayer at Java. Reid’s heart had flipped in his chest, thudding along in double-time when he realized who was at the front of the line, chatting with a former colleague, Reid supposed. Was Luke here? Jesus. Reid’s palms were sweating like some pathetic teenager's as he surreptitiously glanced around the coffee shop, looking for Luke.
Noah turned away from the counter carrying two cups of coffee and spotted Reid immediately. His face went through a comical run of emotions-recognition, surprise, consternation.
“Dr. Oliver, hey!” Noah said. “Wow, you look… you look really good!” Noah said, and Reid was fairly used to the for someone who was hit by a train being left unsaid. “How are you?”
“Doin’ well,” Reid said with a nonchalance he didn’t feel in the least. “What brings you back to Oakdale?” he asked, as if he didn’t know. God damn Katie. The flippin’ lunch lady at Jacob’s daycare buys a new shade of lipstick, and she’s ringing a bell in Old Town to inform the masses, but she doesn’t tell him Noah’s back in town with Luke?
Noah shrugged and said, “Well, you know,” and it looked like that’s all he was going to say, but when Reid didn’t reply, he continued. “It’s just, since Luke couldn’t be here for Lily and Holden’s wedding, I felt like I should.”
Some guy straight off an underwear ad walked up next to Noah, his arm sliding around Noah’s back in an unsubtle move of possession. “Ready to go?” the guy asked, taking one of the coffee cups.
Noah smiled at him. “Yep. Hey, Andrew Weiss, this is Reid Oliver. Reid, this is my boyfriend Andrew.” Noah cleared his throat and said to Andrew, “Reid was the doctor who restored my sight.”
The way Andrew’s eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead suggested that Reid’s name had come up a time or two in the past.
“Pleasure,” Reid said, shaking Andrew’s hand.
Katie and Jacob arrived then and the way the both of them were drooling-Jacob due to teething, Katie due to Andrew-made Reid wished he owned a pair of water shoes.
Noah made sure Katie was attending the Snyder nuptials and promised to catch her up on all his news, then he and Andrew left. As they walked out the door, Reid heard Andrew say, “I thought you said he was fugly…”
Katie was snickering as they sat down at a table. Reid looked down at his coffee cup, took a deep breath, and trusted that Katie's good heart would keep her from flinging her own hot cup of coffee in his face. "Why isn't Luke going to be at his mom and dad's wedding?" he asked, and even though he was expecting Katie's murderous glare, he still found himself pushing back from the table so he could get a running start if he needed to.
“Look,” Reid said, “I know I was a little… nuts, right after the accident…”
“A little nuts?” Katie said. “The last time I tried to tell you anything about Luke, I was banned from the rehab center for a week!”
“It was three days,” Reid said. “Two of which you were out of town anyway.”
Katie had been livid when she learned that Reid broke up with Luke. She’d spent days trying to convince Reid he’d made a mistake, but Reid just tuned her out, feigned sleep, changed the subject. He’d only lost his temper once, when she’d tried to bring Luke up after months of silence on the subject. Reid hadn’t been expecting her to bring him up and having little time to prepare himself, he’d lashed out at her the minute she said she really needed to talk to Reid about him.
Katie had left in tears and when she returned a few days later, they both acted like it never happened.
Katie sighed now, but Reid knew if he remained silent, she’s spill the beans. A few beats later, she said, “He’s in Baltimore.”
Reid didn’t get as far as the ‘y’ in his “Why,” before he already knew the answer. “Johns Hopkins,” he said, his heart sinking in his chest. “His kidney.”
Katie nodded. “He’s waiting for a transplant.
====================================================================================
Katie had precious little detail to impart to Reid. She knew that Luke had moved to Baltimore in November. She knew his family visited as frequently as possible. She knew Luke had been close to getting a kidney at least once, but it fell through at the last minute. The last time she spoke to Lily, Luke had been doing as well as could be expected, whatever that meant.
Reid already knew a potential source of information, and he returned to the hospital and sat in front of his computer, staring listlessly at the screen for a long time before finally clicking on his Saved Mail file. There were seven emails sitting in the file, dating from September 27th to March 15th. He hadn’t opened any of them; had meant, in fact, to delete each and every one of them, but somehow every time the mouse had hovered over the delete button, Reid had been unable to click on it.
Reid stared at the emails for a long time before clicking on the first one he’d received back in September.
Monday, September 27, 2010
2:42 pm
To: Reid_Oliver @ OakdaleMemorial.com
From: LukeSnyder @ SnyderFoundaton.org
Dear Reid,
I’m guessing this email will go unread right into your trash. Maybe I’m hoping it will. Maybe I’ll just think of this as my journal and leave it at that. Knowing you, you’ve probably already set up a filter that automatically deletes emails from me.
Poor little rich boy, right?
I hope you’re all right. I hope you’re getting better every day. I hope there’s nothing permanently wrong with you. I hope you’ll be able to go back to work soon. I hope there’s a place for me in your life when you’ve recovered. I hope you call me if there’s anything, anything I can do for you.
I hear your voice saying, “You hope for many things, Mr. Snyder.” I guess I do.
I miss you. I’m glad you’re here. So glad you’re here, Reid.
L.
Reid sighed and shifted slightly in his chair. He’d expected Luke to detail all the reasons why Reid was wrong to cut him lose; had expected him to try to convince Reid to take him back. Reid wasn’t sure if he was relieved or upset that Luke left it alone.
Reid clicked to open the next email.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
8:13 am
To: Reid_Oliver @ OakdaleMemorial.com
From: LukeSnyder @ SnyderFoundaton.org
Dear Reid,
Katie said you recently wrote an article for a medical journal, so I tracked it down and read it online. I’m so glad you’re well enough to write it. I didn’t understand a word of it. I didn’t even understand the drawing that went with it. Or was that an advertisement for a pain reliever?
I sat there grinning like an idiot at your name on the byline. Reid Oliver, M.D., Ph.D.
How’s rehab going? I hope you’re not in too much pain. I hope you’re recuperating well and following your doctors’ instructions, though I can hardly even imagine it unless they’re telling you exactly what you would tell yourself if you were your doctor.
I miss you,
L.
Reid grinned at the idea of Katie feeding Luke information. The idea of the two of them trying to make heads or tails out of the article he’d written had him snickering as he opened the third email.
Friday, November 19, 2010
9:38 pm
To: Reid_Oliver @ OakdaleMemorial.com
From: LukeSnyder @ SnyderFoundaton.org
Dear Reid,
Sorry I haven’t written for awhile. If you set up that delete filter, you don’t even know that I haven’t written in awhile, and if you’re deleting these emails without reading them you don’t know that I’m sorry for not writing, either.
I’ve missed talking to you.
How are you? I hope you’re okay; feeling better and stronger every day. Is rehab going okay? Are you walking yet? How many more surgeries do they have planned? Are you progressing like they hoped? Like you hoped? I have some of the weirdest, stalkery ideas sometimes of, like, sneaking in to your rehab center and placing a bunch of cameras everywhere so I can monitor your progress. Creepy guy is creepy, right?
Don’t worry though. I’m actually leaving town for a little while so all my stalking plans will have to wait for some other time. I’m going to Baltimore. I haven’t emailed because I kind of feel like I’m letting you down here, which is stupid because we’re not together or anything, I know that, but… it feels like I’ve reneged on a promise.
My kidney is failing, and I’m going to Baltimore to be nearer to Johns Hopkins while I wait for a new one. Since it’s a second transplant, Dr. Bernard (my nephrologist in Oakdale) felt like my case could be handled better by a more specialized hospital, and, to be honest, given what happened last time, I feel like a little distance from my family makes some sense.
My dad is trying to be supportive, but he would rather I stay in Oakdale. My mom is pretty torn up about it. Grandmother weighed in from Amsterdam (she flew the coop with John Dixon, can you believe that?), and she is Not Happy. John, of course, thinks it’s a great idea, and I’m actually going to be staying at his condo while I’m there. I wonder if it’s all black and white and modern, lots of stainless steel or is it older, lots of hard wood character, decorated in dark reds? I’ll know soon enough, won’t I?
I’ve never lived anywhere but Oakdale. Guess that seems pretty lame to you. I wish I was leaving for a different reason, but I’m still kind of excited about moving to a new place all on my own. I’ve hired someone to run Grimaldi Shipping-I’m not ready to sell it, and I’ve been toying with an arrangement where it could be purchased by the employees, but I guess that’s a pretty huge undertaking that will have to wait until later. I’ve got a lot of Foundation work to keep me busy, so I’ll focus on that for awhile.
Bad Dad was up for parole a couple of weeks ago. It stressed me out more than I thought it would, but parole was denied, and we won’t have to worry about it for another six to eight months. Isn’t it weird that Noah’s dad and my biological dad were/are both felons? I don’t know, it just struck me as a kind of funny you would appreciate.
I miss the sound of your voice and your smile and your eyes and your wit. I’m glad you’re here.
L.
Reid smiled at the computer screen and brought up the next message.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
9:12 am
To: Reid_Oliver @ OakdaleMemorial.com
From: LukeSnyder @ SnyderFoundaton.org
Dear Reid,
Noah visited this weekend with his new boyfriend, Andrew (not Andy). You would not believe how unbelievably good looking Andrew is. Seriously, he’s the best looking person I’ve ever seen in real life. I couldn’t stop staring at him which led to this hilariously awkward conversation where he thought I was jealous of Noah and him, and he was all, “I understand your pain, Luke. Feel your feelings, man,” and all I could hear in my head was you making retching noises.
Andrew is an assistant artistic director for a theater company in LA. You’d think he’d be an actor he’s so hot and everything. He says he’s good at recognizing talent even if he doesn’t have any himself. He’s very California-y (feel your feelings, man), but he’s a good guy. Good for Noah… Good with him. They seem really happy, and the sex has got to be off the charts, right? That much studliness in one place and all. I’m looking a little ghoulish these days so sadly there was no propositioning of a three-way. At least I wasn’t propositioned for one. Who knows what they got up to when they were tooling around town.
I’m glad I picked Baltimore over Rochester. There’s a lot of site seeing people can do when they come visit-DC is just 50 miles away; there’s lots of great restaurants, Baltimore Harbor, lots of touristy things to do, even in the winter.
Are you out of rehab yet? I hope you are. I hope you’re not in any pain and that you’ll be going back to work soon. I hope in a few years, no one will even know you were in a terrible car accident.
Where are you living? Mom said Katie and Chris bought the old Canady farmhouse. I can’t quite picture Katie out there-or Chris for that matter. Is Katie keeping her condo? Subletting to you, maybe? It drives my dad crazy when “city folk” buy places that used to be working farms. Don’t tell Katie, okay? I’m sure you’ve already given her and Chris an earful about it.
John’s apartment is more black and white than hard wood. It’s near the harbor and you can hear the water lapping against the rocks. I love sleeping with the windows open-reminds me of when I was little, and my dad and I would camp out at the farm near the pond.
Natalie got a cell phone for her birthday. So far, I have received 300+ text messages. Thank God for unlimited texting. In case you’re wondering, Faith is mean and thinks she is all that even tho she isn’t , also she is totally selfish about her clothes, and Ethan is a tird. I think she meant turd, although I guess she could have meant bird, but that’s hardly the insult I’m sure she was intending.
I miss watching you eat dinner. You were always, like, gleeful when you had a full plate of food in front of you.
L.
Reid chuckled, imagining Natalie and Ethan bickering back and forth about whose piece of cake was bigger. He clicked the next email message.
Monday, December 20, 2010
7:24 am
To: Reid_Oliver @ OakdaleMemorial.com
From: LukeSnyder @ SnyderFoundaton.org
Dear Reid,
I almost got a new kidney yesterday. It came down to me or one other candidate, and it went to the other guy. He’s married, three kids, lives in New Jersey. He’s a fifth generation plumber, can you believe that? His great-great grandfather started the business. He has three daughters and all of them are planning on joining him when they’re older, isn’t that cool? It was his first transplant. His numbers were better than mine so that’s that. It’s kind of awful how they call you to the hospital, and it feels like you’re in this contest of who’s more worthy, and you’re on pins and needles, and when they told me they were giving the kidney to Dave I felt like this huge failure.
I’m glad my parents aren’t here. It’s a rollercoaster, and I like it that I can dole out information to them at my own pace. I like it that no one’s (I’m looking at you Mom and Grandmother) plotting some kind of nefarious kidney kidnapping scheme. (Try saying that ten times fast).
Alison and Casey visited last weekend. Alison said she saw you at Java the last time they were in Oakdale. She said you looked good. Thin maybe, but that you were walking with just a cane. Are you feeling okay? I hope you’re not in a lot of pain. She said you weren’t back in the OR yet, but that you were back at the hospital, mostly consulting. Well, according to Alison, mostly bugging the contractors about the neuro wing. You’re probably chomping at the bit to operate again. Is it okay with Susan as Chief of Staff? I hope it is. I guess you’d go somewhere else if you couldn’t stand it. Maybe Johns Hopkins? Ha ha.
It sounds like the neuro wing is right on schedule. Katie said she’d film the dedication for me. Maybe I’ll be able to be there in person. What will that be like, when we see each other for the first time? It’s weird-you’re probably not reading these emails, but I feel like I’m talking to you, so I’ll think that you should know all of this stuff you won’t know. I’m so glad you’re still here; so glad you’re going to be running the wing. I wish things had gone differently for us, but at least you’re still here, getting stronger every day.
The Foundation awarded 15 grants this week. I used to think it would feel like playing Santa Clause, but what stays with me are the grants that we didn’t award; the candidates that were turned away. I know we can’t fund every project; grant every request, but I wish we could. Maybe I just wish I didn’t know about the ones we don’t fund, then I really would feel like Santa Clause.
The other night I dreamed I told my dad that after I sold Grimaldi Shipping, I wanted to join him on the farm, but he said no, that it was for Natalie and Ethan. Guess even my dream self knows there’s no way in hell Faith is going to work on a horse farm.
I miss home. I miss all of the shoes by the front door and how after we’ve been out at the pond all afternoon there are beach towels everywhere you look and it takes two loads to dry them all. I miss how the telephone never stops ringing and the way we all know how many stomps it takes for Faith to storm off upstairs and how even Ethan knows exactly when the sound of her slamming door is going to come.
I miss the way my breath catches when my phone rings and I look at the display and it’s you calling.
L.
Reid swiveled slowly, back and forth, in his chair, closing his eyes and imagining the soft cadence of Luke’s voice. He opened his eyes with a sigh and read the next message.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
10:57 pm
To: Reid_Oliver @ OakdaleMemorial.com
From: LukeSnyder @ SnyderFoundaton.org
Dear Reid,
My grandmother and John Dixon were here for a few days last week. John had some business he had to take care of at the hospital, though he spent a suspicious amount of time in the nephrology department which is many floors removed from Cardiology.
And P.S. There’s something disturbing about your grandmother having a more active-and more vocal-sex life than you do.
We went to the beach on Tuesday-a big storm was brewing, and it was awesome. The ocean was, like, roaring-this amazing sound of fury as the wind violently whipped around. Grandmother loves storms as much as I do. We stood there, on these big boulders, and she pretended like she was crying because she’d missed her family and was glad we could be together for a few days. I pretended like I was crying for the same reason.
Are you feeling okay? Are there any problems you’re going to have to just learn to live with? How much further do you have to go until you’re a hundred percent? Will you settle for 95? For 99? I hope you’re well.
I miss the way you always answered the phone when I called by saying, “What?”
L.
Reid swiped a hand across his mouth, then tiredly rubbed his fingertips across his forehead. Just one more email left. He clicked and opened it.
Saturday, March 15, 2011
10:12 am
To: Reid_Oliver @ OakdaleMemorial.com
From: LukeSnyder @ SnyderFoundaton.org
Dear Reid,
Well, I’m 0 for 2 in the kidney department. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride, that’s me. This time it was between me and a 43 year old woman from Tucson, Arizona. Her name is Benevolence, believe it or not, and she’s kind of a raving bitch, but niceness doesn’t count when you’re being graded on your New Kidney Worthiness. This time I was actually the closer match, but I was getting over an infection, so I was a no-go.
Did I tell you my mom and dad are getting married? (Yes, to each other, asshole). The wedding is the last weekend in March at the farm, and they’re throwing a pretty big shindig to celebrate. Here’s a secret: they’re already married. They had a justice of the peace come out to the hospital last weekend, and they got married in the atrium. Ethan and I stood up for Dad, Natalie and a comically irritated Faith stood up for my mom. It was really sweet. We had cupcakes and pizza (well, some of us not on restricted diets did) and Ethan said he wished Mom and Dad got married every weekend, and I could totally hear you saying, “Don’t they?”
I miss you the most whenever Faith visits. Remember at Molly and Dad’s almost wedding you said, “So, what’s up with your sourpuss sis?” She’s pretty awesomely sarcastic-she’d even give you a run for your money, I think. She’s been accepted at Oakdale U, Northwestern and Boston University. I hope she goes to BU. It will be good for her to leave the nest, even if it’s just for a little while. I suspect if she leaves, though, she won’t come back, at least not for awhile. I wouldn’t be surprised if she deposits herself on Noah’s doorstep one day in the not-so-distant future so she can mess around in LA for awhile. He’d keep a close eye on her, so I wouldn’t be too worried about her. He’ll age ten years in the first three months, but Faithy will be fine.
Katie says you’re doing well; that you performed your first surgery not long ago. I’m really glad for you, Reid. Six months-that’s pretty impressive to come back from such a terrible accident after only six months. Katie says Chris won’t be able to work full time at the university until after the second semester. Do you think he’s okay not being able to practice medicine? I guess he has to be-he’s alive, right? Having to change careers seems a small price to pay. Still, it would have been awful for you if you couldn’t be a doctor anymore, wouldn’t it? Teaching others to be a doctor is still a pretty noble profession, so hopefully Chris is okay.
I hope you’re okay; I hope you’re back at work and that you go over to Chris and Katie’s for dinner sometimes and babysit Jacob so they can go to a movie and that you go to brunch at Bob and Kim’s sometimes and stand in front of the stove flipping the pancakes. I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re happy, Reid.
I miss you.
L.
Reid sat there for a very long time, staring at his computer screen and wondering how Luke had avoided becoming bitter and hardened; wondering how the Hughes could fawn all over him like he was some kind of God damned superhero when Luke, oh God, when Luke stood quietly by and loved so beautifully and selflessly and heroically. Reid sat there and wondered how Luke could write to him without an ounce of accusation in his tone. He wondered how Luke was brave enough to effortlessly reveal the love and longing in his heart.
Reid felt shamed and small in the face of Luke’s generosity.
Well, there was time enough to address that.
The last thing Reid did was pull out a piece of paper, return to Luke’s first email message, and begin to write.
=====================================================================================
A day later, Reid sat parked in front of John Dixon’s Baltimore condo. His heart was thudding in his chest as he scrolled through the contacts on his phone, thumb hovering over Luke’s name.
I miss the way my breath catches when my phone rings and I look at the display and it’s you calling.
Reid let go of the breath he was holding and pressed Luke’s number. It rang just once.
“Hello?” Luke sound both cautious and curious.
“Can I come see you?” Reid asked.
It was quiet for so long Reid had to look at the display to make sure the call was still connected. When he put the phone back to his ear, Luke was saying, “Uh, Reid, you probably don’t know this, but I’m not actually in…”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Reid said and hung up. A minute later he was pounding on Luke’s door.
The door opened, cautious and curious, just like Luke’s voice a moment earlier.
Reid would look back on that moment later and marvel at the vagaries of the human brain. He should have registered Luke’s terrible coloring; his stooped shoulders; the dark circles under his eyes. He should have been alarmed by the way Luke held on to the doorway for support and the obvious signs that Luke’s body was swollen from retained fluids.
But Reid didn’t notice any of that. At that moment, Luke was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Okay, so…” Reid pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and took a deep breath while he was unfolding it. He stared into Luke’s stunned eyes for a long moment, then looked back down at his list. He took another breath and said, “Right. No. Fine. Not so great, but getting better. Yes. Not yet, but soon. Four. Yes. Slower than I'd hoped, but yes. Right. I can. Why would I care what John Dixon's condo looks like? Yes. Extremely weird. Since when does physical attractiveness have anything to do with sexual prowess?. Yes. I rented a house near the hospital. No. No. I'm too busy humming the theme song to Green Acres at her to gossip about what your father thinks of city folk. What's not to believe? There’s nothing cool about plumbers. Yes. She's good. Oddly enough, I've got my eye on a temporary fellowship there. It will be exquisite. Yes. I live in Oakdale, of course there are problems I'm going to have to just learn to live with. I'm there. No. No. To each other? He's fine. Not my problem, but yeah. It would have been more awful for everyone else.” Reid folded the piece of paper and returned it to his pocket, his face ridiculously heating at the increasingly delighted smile on Luke’s face.
“There,” Reid said with a succinct nod of his head. “We’re caught up.”
Luke’s eyes were roaming over Reid-head to toe and back down again-devouring every detail. “You’re okay,” Luke whispered.
“I am,” Reid said, and he’d earned every ounce of pride in his tone.
“I’m glad,” Luke said. It was after several long minutes under Luke’s scrutiny that Luke finally said, “What are you doing here?”
“You might not know this, but organ procurement is my thing now,” Reid said. “I’m kinda famous for it.”
“Don’t tell me I’m going to have to blackmail some other neurosurgeon into running the new neurology wing,” Luke said.
Reid shrugged and said, “I’m keeping my day job.” He started to say something else, but words failed to materialize under his sudden, overwhelming awareness at the blinding hypocrisy of his being there. And what made it worse was Reid didn’t regret the decision he’d made. He didn’t believe for an instance that he would be there, ready and able to take charge of Luke’s situation, if he hadn’t excluded everything and everyone from the relentless focus of his recovery. That he would make the same decision again seemed… seemed cruel as he stood there in front of a fragile, obviously unwell Luke. A Luke who would no doubt trust Reid if he promised it would never happen again.
Reid was pretty sure he could promise there were no more oncoming trains in his future. That was a start, right?
There was understanding in Luke’s eyes when Reid finally steeled himself to meet them, and that was as crushing-perhaps more so-than any anger or recrimination would be. Did Luke have no instinct toward self-preservation?
“I should want to protect you from me, but I don’t,” Reid said, voice suddenly gone hoarse. “There is so much about me you don’t deserve, and I should want better for you, but I don’t. I should try to change and be the man I want for you, but I won’t do that either.” He took a breath, so much more to confess, but Luke interrupted him.
“You’re really bad at this,” he said, eyes shining, equal parts tears and amusement.
Reid smiled at him. “I should tell you I’ll get better at it, but I won’t.”
“I should love somebody else,” Luke whispered. “But I don’t.”
Reid took that final step forward and gingerly gathered Luke in his arms. They would talk soon; of course they would--sort out where they were and where they were going and how they were going to maneuver the rest of their lives. Reid had a terrible suspicion that this wasn’t anywhere near the last reconciliation between the two of them. Good God, they weren’t the new Kim and Bob of Oakdale, they were the new Lily and Holden; Carly and Jack; Katie and Take Your Pick.
Christ.
Reid sighed deeply, with great melancholy, and hoped to hell Luke had some anti-nausea medication on hand because Reid was going to need some, stat.
#
End
Author: Myrna1_2_3
Fandom: As the World Turns
Characters/Pairings: Luke/Reid
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Six months after the accident, Reid performed his first surgery.
Disclaimer: Not-not-mine
Author's Notes: This story isn’t part of any existing universe. Just a little fix-it fic. As always, never get your medical advice from poorly researched fanfiction.
Six months after the accident, Reid performed his first surgery. It was, pardon the pun, a no-brainer of a clot removal, but God damn it, his hands had been as steady as ever; no knee, hip, pelvis pain, just sheer brilliance from start to finish. Sure, he was still a few months away from a ten-hour marathon session, but there was no denying that Doctor Reid Oliver was back.
Bob was, of course, hovering like a nervous father-to-be outside of the operating room, and his knowing smirk at Reid’s characteristic bravado didn’t mean he was any less pleased and relieved. Bob had insisted on a ridiculous celebratory dinner, attended by every far-flung member of the Hughes family within a two hundred mile radius of Oakdale. Reid, having procured the heart for Chris’ transplant just days before his car accident, was still something of a hero to the Hughes, and Reid would put up with just about anything for a barbecue.
Chris had been almost as thrilled as Katie over Reid’s successful surgery, and Reid had rolled his eyes at their vocal delight and feigned annoyance even though the million-watt grin perpetually plastered on his face ensured he was fooling exactly no one.
It wasn’t until Reid was retiring for the night that he realized there hadn’t been a single, awkward inquiry as to Luke’s whereabouts. Not one person asked him where Luke was or how he was doing. Mm. Katie, Reid supposed.
Reid sighed, all the pride he was feeling at his stellar accomplishment replaced with the ever-simmering shame at what he’d done to accomplish it.
Reid didn’t remember the actual accident. Witnesses said that Reid was stopped at a railroad crossing when a teenager, talking on her cell phone had hit him from behind, forcing his car onto the tracks. Reid had barely managed to extricate himself, the force of the impact from the train hitting the car enough to shatter the fleeing Reid’s left side from hip to toe. It was a miracle he’d escaped a serious head injury or injury to any other vital organ. Or to his hands.
Reid felt anything but lucky when he regained consciousness and heard a catalogue of his injuries, not to mention the doctor’s timetable for his recovery. A year before he’d be back on his feet in an operating room? I don’t fucking think so.
Within a week, Reid had a detailed rehab plan and a physical therapist whose selection was based solely on his being the only therapist who would agree to Reid’s aggressive timeline. And within that same week, Reid told a still shell-shocked Luke that he would no longer be permitted to contact him.
“What did I do wrong?” Luke had asked, white-faced and horrified. “Reid, I’m sorry! Just tell me what I did wrong!”
Reid had tried to explain rationally, calmly. He had tried to make sure Luke understood it had little to do with him at all, and everything to do with Reid needing to focus every ounce of energy and determination and will toward the goal of recovery. He couldn’t afford to worry about how tired Luke looked; how forlorn and loss and heartbroken Luke seemed to be. Reid couldn’t afford the emotional attachment, because the energy he lost over it could mean the difference between regaining his life or losing it altogether.
It was awful of him, Reid knew that. He wasn’t one to delude himself and pretend like letting Luke go was some kind of noble gesture to free Luke from life with a potentially gimpy partner. If having Luke at hand would have improved Reid’s chances of getting back on his feet, he would have tethered Luke to his bedside with torn bed sheets.
No. Reid needed a clear head and an empty dance card to get himself back to a hundred percent.
In the span of an afternoon, Luke traveled through the five stages of grief-denying Reid meant what he was saying; yelling at Reid that he was being selfish and cruel; begging Reid to just let him call or visit sporadically or send emails-anything, anything; crying pitifully, quietly while Reid lay there like stone; and finally wiping his eyes, now empty of emotion, and promising to leave Reid alone.
And then followed the six hardest, most gut-wrenching, soul crushing months of Reid’s entire life. Reid had never in his life been afraid of hard work, mental or physical, but those six months of rehab were a blur of pain and misery and joy and amazement and every God damn day brought him lower than he imagined a human being could go and higher than he ever imagined possible. He fought for every centimeter of improvement, for every second he stood upright and when he finally walked into the hospital like a victorious general returning home from the war, he deserved every last slap on the back and congratulatory handshake.
And if he missed Luke, if the ache in his hip was nothing next to the ache in his heart; well, Reid understood that there were sacrifices you had to make in this life, and standing in that OR, the familiar sound of a buzz saw as beautiful to his ear as a mother’s lullaby, Reid Oliver knew he’d made the right choice.
That is, until four days later when he ran in to Noah Mayer at Java. Reid’s heart had flipped in his chest, thudding along in double-time when he realized who was at the front of the line, chatting with a former colleague, Reid supposed. Was Luke here? Jesus. Reid’s palms were sweating like some pathetic teenager's as he surreptitiously glanced around the coffee shop, looking for Luke.
Noah turned away from the counter carrying two cups of coffee and spotted Reid immediately. His face went through a comical run of emotions-recognition, surprise, consternation.
“Dr. Oliver, hey!” Noah said. “Wow, you look… you look really good!” Noah said, and Reid was fairly used to the for someone who was hit by a train being left unsaid. “How are you?”
“Doin’ well,” Reid said with a nonchalance he didn’t feel in the least. “What brings you back to Oakdale?” he asked, as if he didn’t know. God damn Katie. The flippin’ lunch lady at Jacob’s daycare buys a new shade of lipstick, and she’s ringing a bell in Old Town to inform the masses, but she doesn’t tell him Noah’s back in town with Luke?
Noah shrugged and said, “Well, you know,” and it looked like that’s all he was going to say, but when Reid didn’t reply, he continued. “It’s just, since Luke couldn’t be here for Lily and Holden’s wedding, I felt like I should.”
Some guy straight off an underwear ad walked up next to Noah, his arm sliding around Noah’s back in an unsubtle move of possession. “Ready to go?” the guy asked, taking one of the coffee cups.
Noah smiled at him. “Yep. Hey, Andrew Weiss, this is Reid Oliver. Reid, this is my boyfriend Andrew.” Noah cleared his throat and said to Andrew, “Reid was the doctor who restored my sight.”
The way Andrew’s eyebrows nearly shot off his forehead suggested that Reid’s name had come up a time or two in the past.
“Pleasure,” Reid said, shaking Andrew’s hand.
Katie and Jacob arrived then and the way the both of them were drooling-Jacob due to teething, Katie due to Andrew-made Reid wished he owned a pair of water shoes.
Noah made sure Katie was attending the Snyder nuptials and promised to catch her up on all his news, then he and Andrew left. As they walked out the door, Reid heard Andrew say, “I thought you said he was fugly…”
Katie was snickering as they sat down at a table. Reid looked down at his coffee cup, took a deep breath, and trusted that Katie's good heart would keep her from flinging her own hot cup of coffee in his face. "Why isn't Luke going to be at his mom and dad's wedding?" he asked, and even though he was expecting Katie's murderous glare, he still found himself pushing back from the table so he could get a running start if he needed to.
“Look,” Reid said, “I know I was a little… nuts, right after the accident…”
“A little nuts?” Katie said. “The last time I tried to tell you anything about Luke, I was banned from the rehab center for a week!”
“It was three days,” Reid said. “Two of which you were out of town anyway.”
Katie had been livid when she learned that Reid broke up with Luke. She’d spent days trying to convince Reid he’d made a mistake, but Reid just tuned her out, feigned sleep, changed the subject. He’d only lost his temper once, when she’d tried to bring Luke up after months of silence on the subject. Reid hadn’t been expecting her to bring him up and having little time to prepare himself, he’d lashed out at her the minute she said she really needed to talk to Reid about him.
Katie had left in tears and when she returned a few days later, they both acted like it never happened.
Katie sighed now, but Reid knew if he remained silent, she’s spill the beans. A few beats later, she said, “He’s in Baltimore.”
Reid didn’t get as far as the ‘y’ in his “Why,” before he already knew the answer. “Johns Hopkins,” he said, his heart sinking in his chest. “His kidney.”
Katie nodded. “He’s waiting for a transplant.
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Katie had precious little detail to impart to Reid. She knew that Luke had moved to Baltimore in November. She knew his family visited as frequently as possible. She knew Luke had been close to getting a kidney at least once, but it fell through at the last minute. The last time she spoke to Lily, Luke had been doing as well as could be expected, whatever that meant.
Reid already knew a potential source of information, and he returned to the hospital and sat in front of his computer, staring listlessly at the screen for a long time before finally clicking on his Saved Mail file. There were seven emails sitting in the file, dating from September 27th to March 15th. He hadn’t opened any of them; had meant, in fact, to delete each and every one of them, but somehow every time the mouse had hovered over the delete button, Reid had been unable to click on it.
Reid stared at the emails for a long time before clicking on the first one he’d received back in September.
Monday, September 27, 2010
2:42 pm
To: Reid_Oliver @ OakdaleMemorial.com
From: LukeSnyder @ SnyderFoundaton.org
Dear Reid,
I’m guessing this email will go unread right into your trash. Maybe I’m hoping it will. Maybe I’ll just think of this as my journal and leave it at that. Knowing you, you’ve probably already set up a filter that automatically deletes emails from me.
Poor little rich boy, right?
I hope you’re all right. I hope you’re getting better every day. I hope there’s nothing permanently wrong with you. I hope you’ll be able to go back to work soon. I hope there’s a place for me in your life when you’ve recovered. I hope you call me if there’s anything, anything I can do for you.
I hear your voice saying, “You hope for many things, Mr. Snyder.” I guess I do.
I miss you. I’m glad you’re here. So glad you’re here, Reid.
L.
Reid sighed and shifted slightly in his chair. He’d expected Luke to detail all the reasons why Reid was wrong to cut him lose; had expected him to try to convince Reid to take him back. Reid wasn’t sure if he was relieved or upset that Luke left it alone.
Reid clicked to open the next email.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
8:13 am
To: Reid_Oliver @ OakdaleMemorial.com
From: LukeSnyder @ SnyderFoundaton.org
Dear Reid,
Katie said you recently wrote an article for a medical journal, so I tracked it down and read it online. I’m so glad you’re well enough to write it. I didn’t understand a word of it. I didn’t even understand the drawing that went with it. Or was that an advertisement for a pain reliever?
I sat there grinning like an idiot at your name on the byline. Reid Oliver, M.D., Ph.D.
How’s rehab going? I hope you’re not in too much pain. I hope you’re recuperating well and following your doctors’ instructions, though I can hardly even imagine it unless they’re telling you exactly what you would tell yourself if you were your doctor.
I miss you,
L.
Reid grinned at the idea of Katie feeding Luke information. The idea of the two of them trying to make heads or tails out of the article he’d written had him snickering as he opened the third email.
Friday, November 19, 2010
9:38 pm
To: Reid_Oliver @ OakdaleMemorial.com
From: LukeSnyder @ SnyderFoundaton.org
Dear Reid,
Sorry I haven’t written for awhile. If you set up that delete filter, you don’t even know that I haven’t written in awhile, and if you’re deleting these emails without reading them you don’t know that I’m sorry for not writing, either.
I’ve missed talking to you.
How are you? I hope you’re okay; feeling better and stronger every day. Is rehab going okay? Are you walking yet? How many more surgeries do they have planned? Are you progressing like they hoped? Like you hoped? I have some of the weirdest, stalkery ideas sometimes of, like, sneaking in to your rehab center and placing a bunch of cameras everywhere so I can monitor your progress. Creepy guy is creepy, right?
Don’t worry though. I’m actually leaving town for a little while so all my stalking plans will have to wait for some other time. I’m going to Baltimore. I haven’t emailed because I kind of feel like I’m letting you down here, which is stupid because we’re not together or anything, I know that, but… it feels like I’ve reneged on a promise.
My kidney is failing, and I’m going to Baltimore to be nearer to Johns Hopkins while I wait for a new one. Since it’s a second transplant, Dr. Bernard (my nephrologist in Oakdale) felt like my case could be handled better by a more specialized hospital, and, to be honest, given what happened last time, I feel like a little distance from my family makes some sense.
My dad is trying to be supportive, but he would rather I stay in Oakdale. My mom is pretty torn up about it. Grandmother weighed in from Amsterdam (she flew the coop with John Dixon, can you believe that?), and she is Not Happy. John, of course, thinks it’s a great idea, and I’m actually going to be staying at his condo while I’m there. I wonder if it’s all black and white and modern, lots of stainless steel or is it older, lots of hard wood character, decorated in dark reds? I’ll know soon enough, won’t I?
I’ve never lived anywhere but Oakdale. Guess that seems pretty lame to you. I wish I was leaving for a different reason, but I’m still kind of excited about moving to a new place all on my own. I’ve hired someone to run Grimaldi Shipping-I’m not ready to sell it, and I’ve been toying with an arrangement where it could be purchased by the employees, but I guess that’s a pretty huge undertaking that will have to wait until later. I’ve got a lot of Foundation work to keep me busy, so I’ll focus on that for awhile.
Bad Dad was up for parole a couple of weeks ago. It stressed me out more than I thought it would, but parole was denied, and we won’t have to worry about it for another six to eight months. Isn’t it weird that Noah’s dad and my biological dad were/are both felons? I don’t know, it just struck me as a kind of funny you would appreciate.
I miss the sound of your voice and your smile and your eyes and your wit. I’m glad you’re here.
L.
Reid smiled at the computer screen and brought up the next message.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
9:12 am
To: Reid_Oliver @ OakdaleMemorial.com
From: LukeSnyder @ SnyderFoundaton.org
Dear Reid,
Noah visited this weekend with his new boyfriend, Andrew (not Andy). You would not believe how unbelievably good looking Andrew is. Seriously, he’s the best looking person I’ve ever seen in real life. I couldn’t stop staring at him which led to this hilariously awkward conversation where he thought I was jealous of Noah and him, and he was all, “I understand your pain, Luke. Feel your feelings, man,” and all I could hear in my head was you making retching noises.
Andrew is an assistant artistic director for a theater company in LA. You’d think he’d be an actor he’s so hot and everything. He says he’s good at recognizing talent even if he doesn’t have any himself. He’s very California-y (feel your feelings, man), but he’s a good guy. Good for Noah… Good with him. They seem really happy, and the sex has got to be off the charts, right? That much studliness in one place and all. I’m looking a little ghoulish these days so sadly there was no propositioning of a three-way. At least I wasn’t propositioned for one. Who knows what they got up to when they were tooling around town.
I’m glad I picked Baltimore over Rochester. There’s a lot of site seeing people can do when they come visit-DC is just 50 miles away; there’s lots of great restaurants, Baltimore Harbor, lots of touristy things to do, even in the winter.
Are you out of rehab yet? I hope you are. I hope you’re not in any pain and that you’ll be going back to work soon. I hope in a few years, no one will even know you were in a terrible car accident.
Where are you living? Mom said Katie and Chris bought the old Canady farmhouse. I can’t quite picture Katie out there-or Chris for that matter. Is Katie keeping her condo? Subletting to you, maybe? It drives my dad crazy when “city folk” buy places that used to be working farms. Don’t tell Katie, okay? I’m sure you’ve already given her and Chris an earful about it.
John’s apartment is more black and white than hard wood. It’s near the harbor and you can hear the water lapping against the rocks. I love sleeping with the windows open-reminds me of when I was little, and my dad and I would camp out at the farm near the pond.
Natalie got a cell phone for her birthday. So far, I have received 300+ text messages. Thank God for unlimited texting. In case you’re wondering, Faith is mean and thinks she is all that even tho she isn’t , also she is totally selfish about her clothes, and Ethan is a tird. I think she meant turd, although I guess she could have meant bird, but that’s hardly the insult I’m sure she was intending.
I miss watching you eat dinner. You were always, like, gleeful when you had a full plate of food in front of you.
L.
Reid chuckled, imagining Natalie and Ethan bickering back and forth about whose piece of cake was bigger. He clicked the next email message.
Monday, December 20, 2010
7:24 am
To: Reid_Oliver @ OakdaleMemorial.com
From: LukeSnyder @ SnyderFoundaton.org
Dear Reid,
I almost got a new kidney yesterday. It came down to me or one other candidate, and it went to the other guy. He’s married, three kids, lives in New Jersey. He’s a fifth generation plumber, can you believe that? His great-great grandfather started the business. He has three daughters and all of them are planning on joining him when they’re older, isn’t that cool? It was his first transplant. His numbers were better than mine so that’s that. It’s kind of awful how they call you to the hospital, and it feels like you’re in this contest of who’s more worthy, and you’re on pins and needles, and when they told me they were giving the kidney to Dave I felt like this huge failure.
I’m glad my parents aren’t here. It’s a rollercoaster, and I like it that I can dole out information to them at my own pace. I like it that no one’s (I’m looking at you Mom and Grandmother) plotting some kind of nefarious kidney kidnapping scheme. (Try saying that ten times fast).
Alison and Casey visited last weekend. Alison said she saw you at Java the last time they were in Oakdale. She said you looked good. Thin maybe, but that you were walking with just a cane. Are you feeling okay? I hope you’re not in a lot of pain. She said you weren’t back in the OR yet, but that you were back at the hospital, mostly consulting. Well, according to Alison, mostly bugging the contractors about the neuro wing. You’re probably chomping at the bit to operate again. Is it okay with Susan as Chief of Staff? I hope it is. I guess you’d go somewhere else if you couldn’t stand it. Maybe Johns Hopkins? Ha ha.
It sounds like the neuro wing is right on schedule. Katie said she’d film the dedication for me. Maybe I’ll be able to be there in person. What will that be like, when we see each other for the first time? It’s weird-you’re probably not reading these emails, but I feel like I’m talking to you, so I’ll think that you should know all of this stuff you won’t know. I’m so glad you’re still here; so glad you’re going to be running the wing. I wish things had gone differently for us, but at least you’re still here, getting stronger every day.
The Foundation awarded 15 grants this week. I used to think it would feel like playing Santa Clause, but what stays with me are the grants that we didn’t award; the candidates that were turned away. I know we can’t fund every project; grant every request, but I wish we could. Maybe I just wish I didn’t know about the ones we don’t fund, then I really would feel like Santa Clause.
The other night I dreamed I told my dad that after I sold Grimaldi Shipping, I wanted to join him on the farm, but he said no, that it was for Natalie and Ethan. Guess even my dream self knows there’s no way in hell Faith is going to work on a horse farm.
I miss home. I miss all of the shoes by the front door and how after we’ve been out at the pond all afternoon there are beach towels everywhere you look and it takes two loads to dry them all. I miss how the telephone never stops ringing and the way we all know how many stomps it takes for Faith to storm off upstairs and how even Ethan knows exactly when the sound of her slamming door is going to come.
I miss the way my breath catches when my phone rings and I look at the display and it’s you calling.
L.
Reid swiveled slowly, back and forth, in his chair, closing his eyes and imagining the soft cadence of Luke’s voice. He opened his eyes with a sigh and read the next message.
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
10:57 pm
To: Reid_Oliver @ OakdaleMemorial.com
From: LukeSnyder @ SnyderFoundaton.org
Dear Reid,
My grandmother and John Dixon were here for a few days last week. John had some business he had to take care of at the hospital, though he spent a suspicious amount of time in the nephrology department which is many floors removed from Cardiology.
And P.S. There’s something disturbing about your grandmother having a more active-and more vocal-sex life than you do.
We went to the beach on Tuesday-a big storm was brewing, and it was awesome. The ocean was, like, roaring-this amazing sound of fury as the wind violently whipped around. Grandmother loves storms as much as I do. We stood there, on these big boulders, and she pretended like she was crying because she’d missed her family and was glad we could be together for a few days. I pretended like I was crying for the same reason.
Are you feeling okay? Are there any problems you’re going to have to just learn to live with? How much further do you have to go until you’re a hundred percent? Will you settle for 95? For 99? I hope you’re well.
I miss the way you always answered the phone when I called by saying, “What?”
L.
Reid swiped a hand across his mouth, then tiredly rubbed his fingertips across his forehead. Just one more email left. He clicked and opened it.
Saturday, March 15, 2011
10:12 am
To: Reid_Oliver @ OakdaleMemorial.com
From: LukeSnyder @ SnyderFoundaton.org
Dear Reid,
Well, I’m 0 for 2 in the kidney department. Always a bridesmaid, never a bride, that’s me. This time it was between me and a 43 year old woman from Tucson, Arizona. Her name is Benevolence, believe it or not, and she’s kind of a raving bitch, but niceness doesn’t count when you’re being graded on your New Kidney Worthiness. This time I was actually the closer match, but I was getting over an infection, so I was a no-go.
Did I tell you my mom and dad are getting married? (Yes, to each other, asshole). The wedding is the last weekend in March at the farm, and they’re throwing a pretty big shindig to celebrate. Here’s a secret: they’re already married. They had a justice of the peace come out to the hospital last weekend, and they got married in the atrium. Ethan and I stood up for Dad, Natalie and a comically irritated Faith stood up for my mom. It was really sweet. We had cupcakes and pizza (well, some of us not on restricted diets did) and Ethan said he wished Mom and Dad got married every weekend, and I could totally hear you saying, “Don’t they?”
I miss you the most whenever Faith visits. Remember at Molly and Dad’s almost wedding you said, “So, what’s up with your sourpuss sis?” She’s pretty awesomely sarcastic-she’d even give you a run for your money, I think. She’s been accepted at Oakdale U, Northwestern and Boston University. I hope she goes to BU. It will be good for her to leave the nest, even if it’s just for a little while. I suspect if she leaves, though, she won’t come back, at least not for awhile. I wouldn’t be surprised if she deposits herself on Noah’s doorstep one day in the not-so-distant future so she can mess around in LA for awhile. He’d keep a close eye on her, so I wouldn’t be too worried about her. He’ll age ten years in the first three months, but Faithy will be fine.
Katie says you’re doing well; that you performed your first surgery not long ago. I’m really glad for you, Reid. Six months-that’s pretty impressive to come back from such a terrible accident after only six months. Katie says Chris won’t be able to work full time at the university until after the second semester. Do you think he’s okay not being able to practice medicine? I guess he has to be-he’s alive, right? Having to change careers seems a small price to pay. Still, it would have been awful for you if you couldn’t be a doctor anymore, wouldn’t it? Teaching others to be a doctor is still a pretty noble profession, so hopefully Chris is okay.
I hope you’re okay; I hope you’re back at work and that you go over to Chris and Katie’s for dinner sometimes and babysit Jacob so they can go to a movie and that you go to brunch at Bob and Kim’s sometimes and stand in front of the stove flipping the pancakes. I hope you’re okay. I hope you’re happy, Reid.
I miss you.
L.
Reid sat there for a very long time, staring at his computer screen and wondering how Luke had avoided becoming bitter and hardened; wondering how the Hughes could fawn all over him like he was some kind of God damned superhero when Luke, oh God, when Luke stood quietly by and loved so beautifully and selflessly and heroically. Reid sat there and wondered how Luke could write to him without an ounce of accusation in his tone. He wondered how Luke was brave enough to effortlessly reveal the love and longing in his heart.
Reid felt shamed and small in the face of Luke’s generosity.
Well, there was time enough to address that.
The last thing Reid did was pull out a piece of paper, return to Luke’s first email message, and begin to write.
=====================================================================================
A day later, Reid sat parked in front of John Dixon’s Baltimore condo. His heart was thudding in his chest as he scrolled through the contacts on his phone, thumb hovering over Luke’s name.
I miss the way my breath catches when my phone rings and I look at the display and it’s you calling.
Reid let go of the breath he was holding and pressed Luke’s number. It rang just once.
“Hello?” Luke sound both cautious and curious.
“Can I come see you?” Reid asked.
It was quiet for so long Reid had to look at the display to make sure the call was still connected. When he put the phone back to his ear, Luke was saying, “Uh, Reid, you probably don’t know this, but I’m not actually in…”
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Reid said and hung up. A minute later he was pounding on Luke’s door.
The door opened, cautious and curious, just like Luke’s voice a moment earlier.
Reid would look back on that moment later and marvel at the vagaries of the human brain. He should have registered Luke’s terrible coloring; his stooped shoulders; the dark circles under his eyes. He should have been alarmed by the way Luke held on to the doorway for support and the obvious signs that Luke’s body was swollen from retained fluids.
But Reid didn’t notice any of that. At that moment, Luke was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“Okay, so…” Reid pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and took a deep breath while he was unfolding it. He stared into Luke’s stunned eyes for a long moment, then looked back down at his list. He took another breath and said, “Right. No. Fine. Not so great, but getting better. Yes. Not yet, but soon. Four. Yes. Slower than I'd hoped, but yes. Right. I can. Why would I care what John Dixon's condo looks like? Yes. Extremely weird. Since when does physical attractiveness have anything to do with sexual prowess?. Yes. I rented a house near the hospital. No. No. I'm too busy humming the theme song to Green Acres at her to gossip about what your father thinks of city folk. What's not to believe? There’s nothing cool about plumbers. Yes. She's good. Oddly enough, I've got my eye on a temporary fellowship there. It will be exquisite. Yes. I live in Oakdale, of course there are problems I'm going to have to just learn to live with. I'm there. No. No. To each other? He's fine. Not my problem, but yeah. It would have been more awful for everyone else.” Reid folded the piece of paper and returned it to his pocket, his face ridiculously heating at the increasingly delighted smile on Luke’s face.
“There,” Reid said with a succinct nod of his head. “We’re caught up.”
Luke’s eyes were roaming over Reid-head to toe and back down again-devouring every detail. “You’re okay,” Luke whispered.
“I am,” Reid said, and he’d earned every ounce of pride in his tone.
“I’m glad,” Luke said. It was after several long minutes under Luke’s scrutiny that Luke finally said, “What are you doing here?”
“You might not know this, but organ procurement is my thing now,” Reid said. “I’m kinda famous for it.”
“Don’t tell me I’m going to have to blackmail some other neurosurgeon into running the new neurology wing,” Luke said.
Reid shrugged and said, “I’m keeping my day job.” He started to say something else, but words failed to materialize under his sudden, overwhelming awareness at the blinding hypocrisy of his being there. And what made it worse was Reid didn’t regret the decision he’d made. He didn’t believe for an instance that he would be there, ready and able to take charge of Luke’s situation, if he hadn’t excluded everything and everyone from the relentless focus of his recovery. That he would make the same decision again seemed… seemed cruel as he stood there in front of a fragile, obviously unwell Luke. A Luke who would no doubt trust Reid if he promised it would never happen again.
Reid was pretty sure he could promise there were no more oncoming trains in his future. That was a start, right?
There was understanding in Luke’s eyes when Reid finally steeled himself to meet them, and that was as crushing-perhaps more so-than any anger or recrimination would be. Did Luke have no instinct toward self-preservation?
“I should want to protect you from me, but I don’t,” Reid said, voice suddenly gone hoarse. “There is so much about me you don’t deserve, and I should want better for you, but I don’t. I should try to change and be the man I want for you, but I won’t do that either.” He took a breath, so much more to confess, but Luke interrupted him.
“You’re really bad at this,” he said, eyes shining, equal parts tears and amusement.
Reid smiled at him. “I should tell you I’ll get better at it, but I won’t.”
“I should love somebody else,” Luke whispered. “But I don’t.”
Reid took that final step forward and gingerly gathered Luke in his arms. They would talk soon; of course they would--sort out where they were and where they were going and how they were going to maneuver the rest of their lives. Reid had a terrible suspicion that this wasn’t anywhere near the last reconciliation between the two of them. Good God, they weren’t the new Kim and Bob of Oakdale, they were the new Lily and Holden; Carly and Jack; Katie and Take Your Pick.
Christ.
Reid sighed deeply, with great melancholy, and hoped to hell Luke had some anti-nausea medication on hand because Reid was going to need some, stat.
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