Bulletproof (2/52)
Title: Bulletproof
Author: blasthisass
Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Summary: AU- when Luke is shot by Colonel Mayer, his condition quickly deteriorates. In order to save his life, Bob calls in a young, hotshot doctor from Texas, brilliant and already making a name for himself.
Disclaimers: All characters and such property of ATWT, CBS and anyone else who can legally take credit for them. If they were mine, I would take infinitely better care of them. Title from the song by La Roux. There is dialogue from both the time in which the story takes place as well as the LuRe storyline.
A/N: This is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine.
A/N2: So, I probably going to include stuff from the show that was happening around this time. Now, I never made it past the Colonel Mayer shooting in the Nuke story, so something may definitely be off. Blame it on the fact that this is an AU. :D
Comments much appreciated . . . I love them like Reid loves Luke.
Also, sorry, but still no Luke (for a while this chapter also had no Reid, but I shuffled things around and stuck him in there). I'll get to Luke when he's conscious and not lying comatose on a table. Not really all that much I can do with that at the moment. (If you need incentive for the wait, chapter 5 is a mainly Luke-centric chapter.) Right now, we're trudging along. Slowly, but surely. :P
Previous parts: prologue | 1
***
Bob emerged from his office, walking past the neurology wing and winding his way down the hall to the intensive care unit. He could walk those halls with his eyes closed, he’d been down them so many times. Had treated loved ones so many times. Had treated strangers so many times. Had worked with so many doctors, had comforted so many patients. This was his life, his passion and he could navigate his way around the hospital even with the loss of all his senses.
This was something he felt like he was dealing with at the moment. He couldn’t wrap his brain around the one-sided conversation, monologue, really, that he’d just had with Dr. Reid Oliver. He hadn’t even considered what to expect from the young doctor, but that certainly hadn’t been it. He enjoyed a doctor that was quick, to the point, as much as the next person-their jobs were to heal the ill, to save lives and beating around the bush did no one any favors, especially with a dying patient on the line. Dr. Reid Oliver had certainly not beaten around the bush.
Bob wasn’t sure what to make of the man’s brusque nature, his complete dismissal of any input on the matter that Bob could possibly have. He was wary of the extent of the clinical demeanor that he’d felt even through the phone-there was professional and there was cold. And the temperature had dropped significantly in Bob’s office the minute Dr. Reid Oliver had started speaking. But Bob had continued to do research in any place he thought he could find help and had come up with nothing close to what he’d read about Dr. Oliver. Nothing close to the praise of his “hands of a surgical god,” or the countless miracle surgeries he’d preformed even during his residency. Bob did not belief in the fact that there could be only one way out or an only hope, but that’s what this thirty-year-old doctor from Texas, this Dr. Reid Oliver, was starting to look like. Like an only hope.
His thoughts were filtered suddenly by the sounds of arguing, desperately trying to be hushed, coming from around the corner. He pushed Reid Oliver to the back of his mind and grimaced as he recognized the voices as Lily and Holden’s. He suppressed a groan and pushed through he double doors, leading to the ICU. He exchanged glances with Margo, who was leading Noah away, before turning the corner and catching sight of Holden and Lily.
Lily stood, agitated and worried and so, so motherly. Her eyes were full and the waves of her hair rose and fell in a way that seemed to imply that she’d been sweeping her hand through it in her distress and agitation. She’d just turned her head away from the direction Bob was coming from, just barely missing his entrance, as though she’d been looking after Noah as Margo led him away.
“He did not see any of this coming,” she murmured, glancing mildly at Holden, as though she was looking for reassurance. As though she was just looking for a civil conversation.
If it was one thing Bob thought he knew about Holden, it was that he was capable of giving such a thing, especially in a time of need. But the younger man’s eyes were blazing and his jaw was stiff with the coldness that iced his entire face. His son was dying and he couldn’t be anything otherwise under the circumstances.
“Yeah, but you did.”
Lily’s eyes widened and her voice fell in devastation at the accusation. “Holden! No, no, I . . . I-”
“You what?” he demanded, his voice covered in frost. “You played detective, with Dusty, and what knowledge did you gain? You knew what Mayer was capable of, knew that Dusty thought he’d killed his wife, and you never said anything to me about it.”
Lily flinched with each word uttered, each inflection given and her face turned ghastly shades of white. “Are you saying that what happened today was my fault?”
Bob had heard enough and he cleared his throat loudly. Holden started, his mouth closing over his answer. Before he could ask Bob if there was any news, the elderly doctor cast a stern gaze over him and murmured, “There will be no accusations made in my hospital while my patient is lying in the next room, dying.”
Holden inhaled sharply through his nose, but didn’t turn his head to meet the glance Lily sent him. “Is there any news?”
Bob frowned at this change in subject, but made no comment on the matter. It was, after all, a necessary change. “We’ve gotten in contact with the physician who, we believe, will be able to perform Luke’s surgery. He’ll be flying in tomorrow.”
“And Luke will be able to make it until then?” Lily asked, her voice the lightest mixture of fear and hope.
“I’m reasonably optimistic that, depending on what Dr. Oliver will say, Luke should be able to pull through this,” Bob reassured them.
“Reasonably optimistic? Should be able to pull through?”
“Lily, don’t hang on his every word,” Holden snapped, his hand curling into a fist. Bob raised an eyebrow. “Is there anything we can do?”
“Well, Dr. Oliver will be landing in Oakdale around noon tomorrow and he . . . let’s just say he insisted on having someone pick him up.”
Holden nodded, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “I can do that. What about Luke? Is there anything we can do for him? I mean . . . should we stay with him, should we leave?”
Bob frowned. “My professional advice? Stay with him. There’s a lot we don't know about the states of human consciousness. Some say that coma patients can hear everything or at least sense the presence of others.” He gave them they type of reprimanding look that any parent or grandparent would give to quarrelling siblings. “So, by all means, stay with him. It could be good for him. But, for Luke’s sake if nothing else, you will uphold a united front. The last thing your son needs right now is the two of you battling out your relationship drama here. Do you understand me?”
Holden cast his eyes sheepishly to the ground, but continued to avoid Lily’s gaze not out of meekness, but out of what appeared to be distain. “Perfectly.”
Lily’s eyes fell softly. “Of course, Bob,” she said quietly.
Bob nodded in satisfaction and turned away from them, entering the cold patient room to check Luke’s vitals and make sure everything was up to speed.
Lily sighed, running her hand back through her hair, feeling it slither over her fingers weightlessly. She looked back at Holden, wondering where everything had gone so terribly wrong. “I can’t believe we just got yelled at by Bob like a couple of pre-teens,” she laughed, trying to lighten the mood.
Holden grunted in response, looking through the blinds into the room as Bob made his way around, checking all the machines and scribbling notes in Luke’s chart. Holden swallowed nervously, his heart throbbing slightly with emotion as he tried to figure out whether or not Bob was giving them worst case scenarios or being optimistic and hiding his pessimism poorly.
“Holden?”
“I have to go get some air,” he muttered, sticking his hands in his pockets and walking away toward the exit, not even casting a glance in Lily’s general vicinity. Lily bit her lip as he walked away, wanting nothing more than for him to come back and pull her into a hard embrace and never let her go, whispering sweet nothings and reassurances into her ear.
Her bottom lip quivered and two tears eased themselves out of the corners of her eyes. She felt a hand wind around her shoulders and pull her into a hug as she wiped them, smearing the salty liquid over her cheeks. But it wasn’t the embrace of the man that she needed.
“It’ll get better, Lily,” Bob murmured, his gaze shifting to the swinging doors through which Holden had just disappeared. “It’ll get better.”
***
The next day, Reid was standing on the concourse of the Oakdale airport, uncharacteristically dumbfounded. He hadn’t even taken the time yet to scour the room for whomever the hospital had sent over to pick him up. He wasn’t sure who it would be, but he was sure he could easily recognize the face of someone looking for a genius, so he wasn’t worried.
It was this town that bothered him, this town that time had apparently forgotten, yet strangely accelerated. It seemed like a complete contradiction in every way. Starting with the airport. After he’d casually informed his chief of staff of his plans, he’d gone to find a flight to this town . . . Oakdale. He’d been about to book a flight to Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport (thirty minutes from the town, apparently, so it seemed feasible and practical) when he’d received another call from Dr. Hughes informing him that the patient’s family had a private jet to their disposal and would send it to Dallas for Reid to fly over at his earliest convenience. Reid had almost snorted in disbelief, but was so incredulous at the news that he didn’t even know what to say. That was fine, he supposed. It would get him there, into the operating room and back at record speed, which was his general plan.
But then he’d flown into an Oakdale airport and he hadn’t been able to fathom it. He couldn’t understand why this tiny, backwards, hamlet-of a town had it’s own airport, especially when it had a major city thirty minutes away, which also had two international airports. So, why then did Oakdale need it’s own international airport?
It was as though he’d fallen into some bizarre alternate universe. His skin prickled in anticipation of something that he didn’t understand and he shook his head, agitated, his grip on his briefcase increasing. The sooner he got out of this dump masquerading as a luxurious city, the better.
He met the gaze of a dark-haired man in a blue, jean shirt, who was watching him curiously, as though he was trying to determine whether or not they knew each other. Reid raised his eyebrow, giving the man a once-over. Something about his demeanor screamed farm boy, but not in a way that Reid found wholly unappealing. He met the man’s gaze again and he was approached with a smile.
“Dr. Reid Oliver?”
Reid nodded, glancing down at the hand that was extended at the affirmation, but not taking it. The other gentleman coughed at this and his hand retreated into his back pocket.
“Holden Snyder,” he said, introducing himself to the doctor. “Bob-Dr. Hughes-asked me to come pick you up and take you to the hospital.”
Reid nodded. Snyder. Of course the patient’s father would volunteer to pick him up. He rolled his eyes as it turned out that he was on a first name basis with the hospital’s chief of staff-Oh, the charms of small town life. He checked his watch, dismayed to see that a mere five minutes had passed since he’d arrived. It felt like hours.
“Well, are you going to lead the way to your car or are we simply going to stand around like a bunch of idiots, wasting time?” he demanded.
Holden started at this unexpected rudeness but he took it in stride, assuming that perhaps the young doctor was nervous about the time limit his new patient had. Young. Holden had taken a moment to even approach the doctor because, while he’d seen a photo, he hadn’t really wrapped his mind around the age of the doctor. The only doctor that could save Luke was some thirty-year-old man barely out of medical school? Holden couldn’t believe it, but Bob knew more than him on the matter, so he took it in stride.
The drive from the hospital was quiet. Holden had tried to initiate conversation, but Reid’s monosyllabic answers would constantly bring any attempt at a civil conversation to a crashing halt. After a while, the only sounds were the rumble of the engine and snorts of disbelief from Reid as they passed the WOAK television station, the Lakeview, the offices of The City Times, The Intruder, and Argus, Oakdale University and Oakdale Latin. Reid was half expecting to see the world's tallest skyscraper somewhere in the background.
He pulled up at the hospital and smiled at Reid, who’d opened the door without another word and made to step out of the car.
“That was basically our little town,” Holden offered, tilting his head to acquire a view of Reid’s face.
“Huh,” Reid grunted, slamming the door shut and walking toward the hospital.
Chapter 3-->
***
On a slightly related note: I somehow ended up on the Oakdale Wikipedia page when I was writing this and I have to comment. WHY THE HELL IS THERE SO MUCH STUFF IN OAKDALE?! It blows my mind. Good thing I have Reid to make comments on the craziness. :D
Author: blasthisass
Rating: PG-13 to NC-17
Summary: AU- when Luke is shot by Colonel Mayer, his condition quickly deteriorates. In order to save his life, Bob calls in a young, hotshot doctor from Texas, brilliant and already making a name for himself.
Disclaimers: All characters and such property of ATWT, CBS and anyone else who can legally take credit for them. If they were mine, I would take infinitely better care of them. Title from the song by La Roux. There is dialogue from both the time in which the story takes place as well as the LuRe storyline.
A/N: This is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine.
A/N2: So, I probably going to include stuff from the show that was happening around this time. Now, I never made it past the Colonel Mayer shooting in the Nuke story, so something may definitely be off. Blame it on the fact that this is an AU. :D
Comments much appreciated . . . I love them like Reid loves Luke.
Also, sorry, but still no Luke (for a while this chapter also had no Reid, but I shuffled things around and stuck him in there). I'll get to Luke when he's conscious and not lying comatose on a table. Not really all that much I can do with that at the moment. (If you need incentive for the wait, chapter 5 is a mainly Luke-centric chapter.) Right now, we're trudging along. Slowly, but surely. :P
Previous parts: prologue | 1
***
Bob emerged from his office, walking past the neurology wing and winding his way down the hall to the intensive care unit. He could walk those halls with his eyes closed, he’d been down them so many times. Had treated loved ones so many times. Had treated strangers so many times. Had worked with so many doctors, had comforted so many patients. This was his life, his passion and he could navigate his way around the hospital even with the loss of all his senses.
This was something he felt like he was dealing with at the moment. He couldn’t wrap his brain around the one-sided conversation, monologue, really, that he’d just had with Dr. Reid Oliver. He hadn’t even considered what to expect from the young doctor, but that certainly hadn’t been it. He enjoyed a doctor that was quick, to the point, as much as the next person-their jobs were to heal the ill, to save lives and beating around the bush did no one any favors, especially with a dying patient on the line. Dr. Reid Oliver had certainly not beaten around the bush.
Bob wasn’t sure what to make of the man’s brusque nature, his complete dismissal of any input on the matter that Bob could possibly have. He was wary of the extent of the clinical demeanor that he’d felt even through the phone-there was professional and there was cold. And the temperature had dropped significantly in Bob’s office the minute Dr. Reid Oliver had started speaking. But Bob had continued to do research in any place he thought he could find help and had come up with nothing close to what he’d read about Dr. Oliver. Nothing close to the praise of his “hands of a surgical god,” or the countless miracle surgeries he’d preformed even during his residency. Bob did not belief in the fact that there could be only one way out or an only hope, but that’s what this thirty-year-old doctor from Texas, this Dr. Reid Oliver, was starting to look like. Like an only hope.
His thoughts were filtered suddenly by the sounds of arguing, desperately trying to be hushed, coming from around the corner. He pushed Reid Oliver to the back of his mind and grimaced as he recognized the voices as Lily and Holden’s. He suppressed a groan and pushed through he double doors, leading to the ICU. He exchanged glances with Margo, who was leading Noah away, before turning the corner and catching sight of Holden and Lily.
Lily stood, agitated and worried and so, so motherly. Her eyes were full and the waves of her hair rose and fell in a way that seemed to imply that she’d been sweeping her hand through it in her distress and agitation. She’d just turned her head away from the direction Bob was coming from, just barely missing his entrance, as though she’d been looking after Noah as Margo led him away.
“He did not see any of this coming,” she murmured, glancing mildly at Holden, as though she was looking for reassurance. As though she was just looking for a civil conversation.
If it was one thing Bob thought he knew about Holden, it was that he was capable of giving such a thing, especially in a time of need. But the younger man’s eyes were blazing and his jaw was stiff with the coldness that iced his entire face. His son was dying and he couldn’t be anything otherwise under the circumstances.
“Yeah, but you did.”
Lily’s eyes widened and her voice fell in devastation at the accusation. “Holden! No, no, I . . . I-”
“You what?” he demanded, his voice covered in frost. “You played detective, with Dusty, and what knowledge did you gain? You knew what Mayer was capable of, knew that Dusty thought he’d killed his wife, and you never said anything to me about it.”
Lily flinched with each word uttered, each inflection given and her face turned ghastly shades of white. “Are you saying that what happened today was my fault?”
Bob had heard enough and he cleared his throat loudly. Holden started, his mouth closing over his answer. Before he could ask Bob if there was any news, the elderly doctor cast a stern gaze over him and murmured, “There will be no accusations made in my hospital while my patient is lying in the next room, dying.”
Holden inhaled sharply through his nose, but didn’t turn his head to meet the glance Lily sent him. “Is there any news?”
Bob frowned at this change in subject, but made no comment on the matter. It was, after all, a necessary change. “We’ve gotten in contact with the physician who, we believe, will be able to perform Luke’s surgery. He’ll be flying in tomorrow.”
“And Luke will be able to make it until then?” Lily asked, her voice the lightest mixture of fear and hope.
“I’m reasonably optimistic that, depending on what Dr. Oliver will say, Luke should be able to pull through this,” Bob reassured them.
“Reasonably optimistic? Should be able to pull through?”
“Lily, don’t hang on his every word,” Holden snapped, his hand curling into a fist. Bob raised an eyebrow. “Is there anything we can do?”
“Well, Dr. Oliver will be landing in Oakdale around noon tomorrow and he . . . let’s just say he insisted on having someone pick him up.”
Holden nodded, as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “I can do that. What about Luke? Is there anything we can do for him? I mean . . . should we stay with him, should we leave?”
Bob frowned. “My professional advice? Stay with him. There’s a lot we don't know about the states of human consciousness. Some say that coma patients can hear everything or at least sense the presence of others.” He gave them they type of reprimanding look that any parent or grandparent would give to quarrelling siblings. “So, by all means, stay with him. It could be good for him. But, for Luke’s sake if nothing else, you will uphold a united front. The last thing your son needs right now is the two of you battling out your relationship drama here. Do you understand me?”
Holden cast his eyes sheepishly to the ground, but continued to avoid Lily’s gaze not out of meekness, but out of what appeared to be distain. “Perfectly.”
Lily’s eyes fell softly. “Of course, Bob,” she said quietly.
Bob nodded in satisfaction and turned away from them, entering the cold patient room to check Luke’s vitals and make sure everything was up to speed.
Lily sighed, running her hand back through her hair, feeling it slither over her fingers weightlessly. She looked back at Holden, wondering where everything had gone so terribly wrong. “I can’t believe we just got yelled at by Bob like a couple of pre-teens,” she laughed, trying to lighten the mood.
Holden grunted in response, looking through the blinds into the room as Bob made his way around, checking all the machines and scribbling notes in Luke’s chart. Holden swallowed nervously, his heart throbbing slightly with emotion as he tried to figure out whether or not Bob was giving them worst case scenarios or being optimistic and hiding his pessimism poorly.
“Holden?”
“I have to go get some air,” he muttered, sticking his hands in his pockets and walking away toward the exit, not even casting a glance in Lily’s general vicinity. Lily bit her lip as he walked away, wanting nothing more than for him to come back and pull her into a hard embrace and never let her go, whispering sweet nothings and reassurances into her ear.
Her bottom lip quivered and two tears eased themselves out of the corners of her eyes. She felt a hand wind around her shoulders and pull her into a hug as she wiped them, smearing the salty liquid over her cheeks. But it wasn’t the embrace of the man that she needed.
“It’ll get better, Lily,” Bob murmured, his gaze shifting to the swinging doors through which Holden had just disappeared. “It’ll get better.”
***
The next day, Reid was standing on the concourse of the Oakdale airport, uncharacteristically dumbfounded. He hadn’t even taken the time yet to scour the room for whomever the hospital had sent over to pick him up. He wasn’t sure who it would be, but he was sure he could easily recognize the face of someone looking for a genius, so he wasn’t worried.
It was this town that bothered him, this town that time had apparently forgotten, yet strangely accelerated. It seemed like a complete contradiction in every way. Starting with the airport. After he’d casually informed his chief of staff of his plans, he’d gone to find a flight to this town . . . Oakdale. He’d been about to book a flight to Chicago’s O’Hare International Airport (thirty minutes from the town, apparently, so it seemed feasible and practical) when he’d received another call from Dr. Hughes informing him that the patient’s family had a private jet to their disposal and would send it to Dallas for Reid to fly over at his earliest convenience. Reid had almost snorted in disbelief, but was so incredulous at the news that he didn’t even know what to say. That was fine, he supposed. It would get him there, into the operating room and back at record speed, which was his general plan.
But then he’d flown into an Oakdale airport and he hadn’t been able to fathom it. He couldn’t understand why this tiny, backwards, hamlet-of a town had it’s own airport, especially when it had a major city thirty minutes away, which also had two international airports. So, why then did Oakdale need it’s own international airport?
It was as though he’d fallen into some bizarre alternate universe. His skin prickled in anticipation of something that he didn’t understand and he shook his head, agitated, his grip on his briefcase increasing. The sooner he got out of this dump masquerading as a luxurious city, the better.
He met the gaze of a dark-haired man in a blue, jean shirt, who was watching him curiously, as though he was trying to determine whether or not they knew each other. Reid raised his eyebrow, giving the man a once-over. Something about his demeanor screamed farm boy, but not in a way that Reid found wholly unappealing. He met the man’s gaze again and he was approached with a smile.
“Dr. Reid Oliver?”
Reid nodded, glancing down at the hand that was extended at the affirmation, but not taking it. The other gentleman coughed at this and his hand retreated into his back pocket.
“Holden Snyder,” he said, introducing himself to the doctor. “Bob-Dr. Hughes-asked me to come pick you up and take you to the hospital.”
Reid nodded. Snyder. Of course the patient’s father would volunteer to pick him up. He rolled his eyes as it turned out that he was on a first name basis with the hospital’s chief of staff-Oh, the charms of small town life. He checked his watch, dismayed to see that a mere five minutes had passed since he’d arrived. It felt like hours.
“Well, are you going to lead the way to your car or are we simply going to stand around like a bunch of idiots, wasting time?” he demanded.
Holden started at this unexpected rudeness but he took it in stride, assuming that perhaps the young doctor was nervous about the time limit his new patient had. Young. Holden had taken a moment to even approach the doctor because, while he’d seen a photo, he hadn’t really wrapped his mind around the age of the doctor. The only doctor that could save Luke was some thirty-year-old man barely out of medical school? Holden couldn’t believe it, but Bob knew more than him on the matter, so he took it in stride.
The drive from the hospital was quiet. Holden had tried to initiate conversation, but Reid’s monosyllabic answers would constantly bring any attempt at a civil conversation to a crashing halt. After a while, the only sounds were the rumble of the engine and snorts of disbelief from Reid as they passed the WOAK television station, the Lakeview, the offices of The City Times, The Intruder, and Argus, Oakdale University and Oakdale Latin. Reid was half expecting to see the world's tallest skyscraper somewhere in the background.
He pulled up at the hospital and smiled at Reid, who’d opened the door without another word and made to step out of the car.
“That was basically our little town,” Holden offered, tilting his head to acquire a view of Reid’s face.
“Huh,” Reid grunted, slamming the door shut and walking toward the hospital.
Chapter 3-->
***
On a slightly related note: I somehow ended up on the Oakdale Wikipedia page when I was writing this and I have to comment. WHY THE HELL IS THERE SO MUCH STUFF IN OAKDALE?! It blows my mind. Good thing I have Reid to make comments on the craziness. :D