Chicago Med fic: Resolution (3/7)

[faye_dartmouth]

PART ONE
PART TWO
PART THREE
PART FOUR
PART FIVE
PART SIX
PART SEVEN



-o-

Will had wandered throughout most of the party, but Mr. Alawe led him through a door he hadn’t passed through. It led to a smaller parlor, which was more sparsely populated. He waved to a few people, but they didn’t approach him, and then he led Will through another series of doors and up a staircase.

“You are from Chicago, yes?” Mr. Alawe asked as they walked.

“Uh, yes,” Will said, trying not to gawk at the impressive architecture, which seemed to grow only more decadent as they passed.

“And where did you work in Chicago?” Mr. Alawe continued, ambling easily through the space as they crested the stairs.

“Chicago Med,” Will said.

At this, Mr. Alawe stopped, turning to Will with apparent delight. “Oh! Yes! I do know that place!” he said even more enthusiastically than before. “There was a Dr. Downey, I believe. A cardiothoracic surgeon, yes? One of the best in the world. I had a friend who flew there for a procedure several years back.”

“Dr. Downey was very good,” Will said. “I’m afraid he passed away a few years ago, though.”

Mr. Alawe looked genuinely saddened by that news. “Oh, dear, I’m so sorry!”

“I didn’t know him well,” Will said quickly.

“Still, what a pity!” Mr. Alawe continued. “Death is always tragic, but when someone is taken in their prime, with so much to offer -- I cannot even begin to explain it. Money, power, wealth, talent -- and we are still mortal men.”

“It is an unfortunate reality of the world,” Will agreed diplomatically. “It’s taken some time for Med to rebuild from the loss, but it’s rebounded pretty well.”

“I have heard nothing,” Mr. Alawe said. “Tell me, who is in charge now?”

“Dr. Latham,” Will said. “Different in style, but not in substance.”

“Well, if I ever need a heart procedure, I will keep him in mind,” Mr. Alawe said, rubbing his hands together with far too much anticipation than the contemplation of heart surgery warranted. “Tell me more about your hospital.”

“Oh,” Will said, taken somewhat off guard. “Well, I mean, it’s got good staff across the board, but I spent most of my time in the ED. And I haven’t been back recently.”

He tried to say it casually enough, but the anxiety that laced his reply was likely evident. Mr. Alawe hemmed himself in somewhat, bobbing his head. “Of course not -- for you have been here, hard at work,” he said with a slight grandeur. “And tell me, do you like it here?”

Will looked around, having to laugh. “Well, here isn’t like my usual routine,” he said. “But I think overall it’s going pretty well. A lot of work, but I don’t really have any complaints.”

With a good natured nod, Mr. Alawe offered a follow up that was a bit more keen. “But you do not miss your home? You are so far away.”

Six months. Will had been gone six months.

It wasn’t the longest he’d been away from home, but somehow it felt that way. Maybe because this time he hadn’t really wanted to leave.

That wasn’t the issue, though. He smiled vaguely. “I do miss it,” he admitted finally.

Mr. Alawe seemed curious. “Do you have plans to go back?”

The question was bound up in apparent sympathy, but it drew Will back to his purpose. This wasn’t a social call, even if that was what it looked like on the surface. He was here for a reason. “To visit, sure,” Will said. “But just to visit. Spend a few weeks with my brother, maybe.”

They were still standing at the top of the stairs, but the sounds from the party were ever distant. They weren’t alone here quite, but it certainly felt that way.

Crossing his arms over his chest, Mr. Alawe looked thoughtful. “But not to work? This Med does not want you back?”

Maggie had told him otherwise. Jay had, too.

But the memory of standing in Ms. Goodwin’s office was not to be taken lightly.

Will found the self control to smile. “No,” he said, emphatic with his intent now. “No, my career is here now.”

That wasn’t an emotional decision. It wasn’t something he was waffling on. It was a choice he’d made, a clear, unequivocal choice, and he had to embrace it.

The vigor in his voice seemed to impress Mr. Alawe. “That is most fascinating.”

Will blushed now, feeling somewhat embarrassed by his own candor. “Not really. Are you sure you shouldn’t be back down with your party guests?”

“Eh,” Mr. Alawe said, uncrossing his arms and swatting his hand in front of his face. “I gave them food! Music! Ambiance! Drinks! And besides, you are a party guest, yes? I do not think I am such a poor host.”

“No, of course not,” Will said quickly.

Mr. Alawe was amused at his quick discomfort. “You worry too much, Dr. Halstead,” he said with gest. “And consider the possibility that I have pulled you aside because I find you interesting, my friend. I have heard what you have to say, and I have heard what others say about you, but you remind me of myself. There is always more to the story, I am quite sure.”

This time, Will’s blush deepend.

Mr. Alawe clapped his hands together, starting to amble forward once more. “All the same. We must continue on, yes? We continue!”

Although the style of the house looked much the same with grandiose opulence, it was quieter up here. While there were no guests, Will could see a few members of the wait staff -- probably those who attended to Mr. Alawe’s private quarters. That would be a thing a man like Mr. Alawe had.

A pair of well dressed men nodded at Mr. Alawe as he passed, and Mr. Alawe made some haste to open a pair of grand doors to the left, and Will followed him into another room.

This room was smaller, perhaps, but that was only a matter of degrees. The closer quarters made it feel more intimate, but the lush ornamentation was just as decadence as the rest of the home.

“See, I know what it is to have secrets,” Mr. Alawe said, leaving the doors open behind them as he breezed inside. “And that is why I have learned that not all secrets are bad. We protect them for our own sake, no one else’s.”

“Some secrets are bad, though,” Will said.

Mr. Alawe glanced back at him, as if he understood. “See, you are like me, then,” he said. “Your own worst critic.”

Will inhaled, still lagging a few feet behind out of deference. “I just like to remember my past. It helps me focus on the future.”

This answer pleased the man, and he grinned. “Failure drives success. See? We are alike, then. Though I imagine it is hard to feel validated at your current job. Dr. Dunst likely does not appreciate the nuance.”

Will’s defenses sprang up immediately. “Dr. Dunst is a very organized administrator, and a very effective doctor.”

“Indeed!” Mr. Alawe said. “I am not speaking ill of your Dr. Dunst. Merely pointing out a difference in personality. I told you, you remind me of myself.”

Right, Will thought ruefully. A version of Mr. Alawe who was far less successful and magnanimous. The similarity was uncanny.

Moving farther inside, Mr. Alawe slowed and turned. He made a point to breathe deeply, exhaling through his mouth with a look of contentment. “Ah, now, this is better, yes? So much better.”

Will attempted to follow suit, but he found it difficult to take a deep breath with the level of anxiety he was harboring. Instead, he nodded briefly to the room around them. “It is very lovely in here.”

Mr. Alawe made a face of discontent. “No! Not the room! The quiet!” he said, and he gestured around them again. “The party -- all parties -- they are so noisy!”

Will quickly scrambled to make up for his lapse in meaning. “Well, I suppose that’s what makes it a party. Kind of goes with the territory.”

He was trying to make small talk, not a commentary on the state of things. However, for a man like Mr. Alawe, such things probably seemed the same. “Yes, yes, and this is a good party, yes? A nice party? One of my best, I think, but probably not the very best,” he said, shrugging a little as he ambled around. “I know too well how these things are judged. And I know what is expected of a man like me. Most people, they do not come for me. They come because of the prestige. It is a show, I think, so I spare no expense. I do not disappoint, but if I am being honest, they are not my favorite pastime.”

Will followed behind him still, keeping a respectful distance while still trying to be engaged. “They’re not mine either, if we’re being honest. I almost didn’t come tonight.”

Mr. Alawe looked pleased at the admission. He leaned a little closer to Will with a knowing look. “See? I knew this about you. This is why I invited you away. Because sometimes we need someone who thinks like us.”

The attention still seemed unwarranted, and Will couldn’t quite place it. But candor was something Mr. Alawe appreciated, and Will had done nothing to earn his attention thus far. He couldn’t imagine he was risking it now. “There is a party full of people out there,” he said without hiding his doubt. “I’m sure there are plenty who think like you.”

“But they all begged to come!” Mr. Alawe said. “Most people I meet are fawning over me. But you! I had to hurt my ankle for you to even know who I was.”

“Well, I am new to the area,” Will said.

“It wouldn’t have mattered,” Mr. Alawe said. “You care about your patients, yes? That is why this whole thing seems uncomfortable to you. It seems untoward, and you are not certain of my intentions.”

It was an apt description, and Will was almost grateful that it was so well understood. “It is a little confusing, to be honest.”

Mr. Alawe nodded in agreement. “I am not the most logical man sometimes,” he said. “I do not know what intrigues me so much sometimes. I am never sure, do I follow my instincts? Do I do what is expected of me? How do we figure it out? How do we know?”

The question couldn’t have been more on point if Mr. Alawe tried. Will, despite himself, chuckled. “I ask myself that all the time.”

“It was instinct, then, that made me invite you,” Mr. Alawe said. He shrugged for a moment, looking just slightly crestfallen. “Let me guess. It was protocol that made you agree?”

Will wanted to backpedal, to offer some nicer version of the truth. Lying might be the smarter option, but Will had to reckon with himself here more than anything. “Dr. Dunst was quite sure to remind me that making connections is very important for hospital administration.”

At that. Mr. Alawe laughed. “Yes, I am sure she did,” he said. “And yet here we are. I have kept you from all connections! But I will not keep you long, I do promise you. A little quiet is good for the soul.”

Will eased his hands into his pockets, trying to make himself appear more at ease. “No arguments there,” he said. “But this is your party, so please, don’t stay out on my account.”

“You are still missing it!” he said with excitement. “Please! Please, let me stay for your account! I would be most grateful for the excuse. Like your Dr. Dunst, I know how important these parties can be, and I know how much good they can do, but I do find them so exhausting.”

That was hard to argue with. Will took one hand out of his pocket and made a lame motion around the room. “Okay, then.”

Will’s acquiescence allowed Mr. Alawe to relax, and he turned back to the grand room around them. “Besides, I won a mansion. I own several mansion! It is much too much, I admit, but one nice thing is that there is always a place to retreat -- even when I am inundated with people.”

“But this is your party,” Will said, a little slow to agree. “I’m sure you have obligations.”

“Which makes ignoring them all the more enjoyable,” Mr. Alawe said with the recklessness of a teenager. A refined, well bred teenager, but a teenager nonetheless.

Will wasn’t sure where this conversation was going. His instincts had long since left him directionless. He wasn’t sure where Dr. Dunst’s orders started and where they ended. Mr. Alawe seemed well intentioned, but Will wasn’t sure anymore who was doing who a favor.

It made Jay’s working definition of quid pro quo even harder to grasp.

With a little sigh, Mr. Alawe started ambling again, perusing one of his bookshelves with renewed curiosity. “This is an impressive room, is it not? I am not sure what it is called. It looks like a library, but I think it is called a parlor. But then, it also looks like a den. I do not know why we have so many rooms that all look the same.”

Will rocked back on his heels, looking the room over again. He tried to think of something meaningful to say, but the sheer splendor of it defied his logic. He couldn’t possibly comment on it; he had no meaningful experience to allow him to say something intelligent. People had ideas that doctors were all rich and well off, but Will was still the scrubby kid from Canaryville, taking on renters because his insurance rates were too high and he was carrying too much debt.

And to think he’d been brash enough to get fired.

He tried to keep smiling, rueful as it felt. “It’s just far more house than I will ever have.”

“And far more house than any man needs,” Mr. Alawe said. “But it looks good, and it is nice for occasions like this.”

The party is impressive,” Will agreed, tentatively walking around. For a room that seemed to be an afterthought for Mr. Alawe, it was magnificently outfitted. The art was exquisite, and Will suspected that most of the artifacts displayed were authentic. “Seems like everyone is having a good time.”

“Which is the point of a party, yes?” Mr. Alawe said. He pointed to the couch. “Please, sit. I see that you are not drinking? This is a party. You should have a drink!”

“Oh, I’m fine,” Will tried to say.

“Nonsense!” Mr. Alawe said. “This house has a wet bar in every room. It’s excessive, I know, but on the other hand, I can make you a drink.”

Will’s mouth opened. “Oh, you don’t have to--”

Mr. Alawe was already at the bar, opening one of the cupboards. “I want to!” he said, checking a bottle and grinning his approval. “Now, sit!”

Feeling out of place, Will had no choice but to oblige his host. Awkward, Will sat down on the very edge of the couch, perched with a keen eye to get up at any moment. He was increasingly aware of the fact that he was monopolizing the host, and it was an attention he wasn’t sure he deserved. He thought of a few apt excuses to get out of there, but Dr. Dunst had wanted him to come. She was trusting him to do this. Mr. Alawe was a key hospital donor, and if he showed interest in Will, then it was up to Will to try to be interesting.

That would help if he were interesting, but the only interesting story about him was that time he botched a medical trial and got fired for helping his ex-fiancee nearly kill her mother.

And that wasn’t exactly stellar small talk.

His train of thought was interrupted -- for better or worse -- when Mr. Alawe returned with two drinks. He handed one to Will and kept the other for himself.

“This is an Irish whiskey,” Mr. Alawe said, giving his own glass a smell. “Am I right? Are you Irish?”

Will was surprised by the thoughtfulness of the gesture. “A few generations back, yeah,” he said. “But the most recent Halsteads have all been born and bred in Chicago.”

Looking pleased, Mr. Alawe sat down on a chair across from Will. “Yes, Chicago,” he said. “I have been there, but mostly in passing. I spent some time downtown, of course. I believe I went to a Chicago Cubs game?”

Will made a face, shaking his head. “I’m a south sider,” he said. “Everyone in Canaryville roots for the White Sox.”

This slight refutation only seemed to delight Mr. Alawe more. “That is wonderful!” he said. “Next time I go back, I will have to see what the fuss is about.”

Will took a sip, immediately noting that this drink was nothing like the Guinness his dad would have bought or the Bailey’s Irish Cream his mother had snuck into her coffee from time to time. He swallowed it, remembering awkwardly the dynamic at play. “Well, there’s not much fuss over Canaryville,” Will admitted, somewhat sheepish now. “If anything, I was pretty lucky to get out. It’s a rougher neighborhood, but what can I say? It’s home.”

Mr. Alawe took his own sip, seeming to know how to savor it properly. He nodded as he mused. “My home may seem like it is here -- this mansion -- but I grew up in a place that I am sure is much worse than your Canaryville,” he said. “I was too smart to stay, though. I went to school, learned to create, to invent, to think, to dream -- and success followed. Sometimes, I do not even know how.”

Will could only laugh, taking another small sip. “This is more than success, Mr. Alawe,” he said. “What you’ve built here -- it’s amazing.”

Mr. Alawe looked around, wrinkling his nose a little. “To say it is just money would be to convey privilege. I do not take it for granted,” he said. “But I also don’t want to forget, yes? That is why I stay connected to these projects of mine, why I donate without regard for expense. Because I am here, but I remember being there.”

Will sat forward, somewhat relieved to focus on easier topics for the moment. Talking about himself was uncomfortable. Directing focus to the hospital -- well, that was why he’d agreed to come at all.

“Well, your generosity is always impressive,” Will said, trying to bring the conversation back around. “I know just how much the hospital has benefitted from it.”

Mr. Alawe sat back now with a curious smile. “You have been coached before coming here, yes?”

Will blinked in surprise. “What? I--”

Mr. Alawe swatted his hand in the air. “Oh, do not fret. I am not offended,” he said. “I am sure your boss told you how valuable a friendship with me could be.”

Will could feel his cheeks start to burn again. “It wasn’t anything like that,” he said. “Your name came up, of course, but my decision to come tonight--”

Now Mr. Alawe chuckled. “Oh, you are flustered!” he crowed. “I jest! I jest! I know your Dr. Dunst. She is a practical woman. I would doubt her leadership if she did not send you here with a plan.”

There was no feasible way to deny it outright, so Will tried to pull himself together and present the most palatable version of the truth. Jay had been right in his assessment: Mr. Alawe knew what he was doing.

Now, the question was, did Will?

“Dr. Dunst oversees all patient interaction, and when those files overlap with donor reports, she’s going to be on extra alert,” Will said. “She talked to me just to be sure that your were safe and that you had a pleasant experience in our ED.”

Mr. Alawe nodded along as if Will was telling an enjoyable story. “Yes, yes, of course,” he said. “And I did, yes? I had a very pleasant experience in your ED. I hope you told that to your dear Dr. Dunst.”

“It was all in the file,” Will assured him.

“Ah, not all of it,” Mr. Alawe said. He paused to take another sip. “You cannot put everything in a file.”

“Well,” Will said, fumbling again. “The pertinent patient information--”

“Oh, Dr. Halstead!” Mr. Alawe said. “You do not have to prove to me that you are a good doctor.”

“I’m just trying to assure you that everything is being handled in a completely ethical way,” Will said, choosing his words slowly and deliberately.

Mr. Alawe shook his head. “But human interaction is more than ethics,” he said. “You were a perfectly adequate doctor, but that is not why I asked you to come tonight.”

And for Will, the need for candor broke his composed demeanor. For a moment, his self control slipped, and he shook his head back at the man. “And why did you ask me to come here tonight?”

Eyes twinkling, Mr. Alawe took another long pause for a drink he seemed to savor. “Because I like you, of course.”

Will fiddled with his own drink, but didn’t take a sip. “Flattering as that is, I’m not sure I understand,” he said. “You were barely in my ED for more than a few hours.”

“And you think I came to your ED by chance?” Mr. Alawe asked, lifting his eyebrows with a trained quizzical air. “I did not get to where I am without doing my homework. You had a work history that intrigued me, so much success just to end up here. It seemed like a step backward, and I was most curious about it. About you!”

The idea of rich socialites doing research on his career was both disconcerting and edifying. Except for the reality that Will couldn’t imagine that the man would find anything good about him. His work history was impressive, sure. Until you looked at the reasons he left.

Did Mr. Alawe know the truth? Was this a set up? Was he going to demand Will quit before securing the next donation to the hospital?

Or was this man as well intentioned as he seemed? Maybe he didn’t know; maybe Will owed him the truth before any checks were cut.

“I can’t say my resume tells the whole story,” Will said. He shifted uncomfortably on the couch, and this time, he did take a drink in a desperate attempt to give himself something to do.

To this, Mr. Alawe just grinned wider. “A list of jobs can look like a list of success, but I have found that it hides just as many failures,” he said. “And failure is territory for the bold. It is a byproduct of the passionate.”

“And sometimes, the stupid,” Will said, ruefully raising his glass. He was aware that he was taking this conversation off point -- this was about the hospital, about fundraising -- but Will couldn’t help himself. He had a responsibility to Dr. Dunst -- he knew that. But he also had a responsibility to the truth, to himself. He would not hide from his past, no matter how inconvenient.

Mr. Alawe raised his back in a semblance of a toast. “To the stupid!” he resounded, taking another long sip while Will nursed a much smaller one. When he was done, Mr. Alawe sighed, and he regarded Will curiously. “I tell you the truth, my friend, of the two of us, I am quite sure I have been the stupidest one of all. People like Dr. Dunst, they do not understand it. That is why they will never leave to rise, for they have never had to fall.”

Will sat back, contemplating that concept, and Mr. Alawe sipped again.

“Now, it is true, I could be wrong about you. And you can call me shallow and vain, and you may be right,” he said. “I am like a child who needs a new toy because the old ones bore me so.”

“Mr. Alawe, I just want to be clear about everything,” Will said. “The hospital is a good cause. We do excellent work, and any donation will continue to help us grow and improve. Me, I’m just one doctor, just doing my job.”

His eyes narrowed and he sat up a little straighter as he looked at Will. “But you are not like everyone else,” he said. “Africa, New York, Chicago, and back to Africa. For success or failure -- it does not matter. I know you did not want to come tonight, but here you are. Taking that chance. Taking this chance -- to do it better, to do it right.”

Will worked his jaw, and tried to keep smiling. “Not all chances are good, though. Some of them should be taken.”

If he was trying to make a point, Mr. Alawe was picking up on the wrong one. His eyes lit up again. “Yes!” he cried emphatically. “And that is why it is called a chance! Because you do not know how it will turn out. But our reasons, our intentions -- that is what makes us who we are.”

Will fiddled with his drink, sloshing it around so he didn’t have to drink the rest of it. No doubt, the bottle cost as much as he made in a month, but Will couldn’t afford any lapses right now. If this was a chance he was taking, then he had to take it with his eyes wide open for once. He had to stay cognizant, and he couldn’t risk compromising himself for anything right now.

Carefully, he raised his gaze to his host once more. He could defer. He could play nice. He could flatter.

But that wasn’t what Mr. Alawe wanted.

At least, Will didn’t think so.

It was a chance, yes.

But Will had made up his mind to take it.

Finally, he posed the question. “And who are you, Mr. Alawe?”

The man’s face went bright again, wrinkles around his eyes deepening with joy. “A rich man with too much money and too much time and not enough to do,” he said. “I have told you this from the beginning, so that is not the question. The question is, my good Dr. Halstead, who are you?”

The question was too stark to answer honestly -- and honestly wouldn’t make much sense anyway. With a question like that, there wasn’t even an answer to give. Accordingly, Will shrugged. “I’ve told you this from the beginning, too. I’m just a doctor trying to do his job.”

The answer was a little too simplistic, probably, but it wasn’t necessarily untrue. Mr. Alawe nodded along readily from his spot on the luxurious chair across from the sofa. “And I think I can help you do that,” he said. He gestured with one hand. “Tell me what it is you need.”

The statement was made plainly, but the vagueness of such a sizeable offer was hard to bring into perspective. There was likely some nuance here that Will was missing -- and badly. He tried not to show how out of his depth he was, putting his drink down awkwardly on the coffee table between them. “I’m sorry?”

Will was confused, but Mr. Alawe was more certain than ever. He didn’t even flinch. “For your ED,” he said simply. “What do you need?”

The question was open ended in every possible way. It was an ED -- what didn’t it need? Will could recite a list of the top of his head that tallied up into the millions. And, if he really got into it, he could easily make the number bigger. Medicines, additional staff, updated equipment, better monitors, improved data system -- all of it. And more.

Will laughed, surely out of disbelief. “Are you actually being serious right now?”

He expected the man to laugh, but Mr. Alawe was unfazed. “Yes,” he said. “Tell me what you need. Tell me what you want. Anything. And I will make it happen.”

He was still inclined to think the other man was joking -- or perhaps that he was being naive.

But Mr. Alawe wasn’t stupid.

And he wasn’t exactly naive.

Will wasn’t really sure what the man was, except for the idea that he knew exactly what he was doing.

Mr. Alawe was over the top. He was ridiculous, in some ways.

He was also serious.

Trying to regather himself, Will sat back in his seat. “Well. I mean. I’d have to think. You know. Talk to my boss.”

He was fumbling his response in a significant fashion, but it only seemed to please Mr. Alawe more. “You do that. I’m sure Dr. Dunst will be quite happy to help you figure it out,” he said with bemusement. “Then, once you have a list, call me and we will see how we can help you do your job better.”

What Will really needed was a whole new set of instincts and a stronger grasp of medical ethics. Also, a time machine might help so he could go back and not be the blundering idiot at Chicago Med. With those things, he might have actually married Natalie, and they would be working together right now, raising Owen and--

And Mr. Alawe was talking about MRI machines and portable sonograms.

Much more practical, concrete things.

“Thank you,” Will said. “I mean -- I really don’t even know what to say.”

“Eh,” Mr. Alawe said. He put his empty tumbler down. “You have said it all already -- that is why we are here. I like investing in good systems. I like investing in good people even more.”

Will nodded, utterly resolved. “I will do my very best not to disappoint you.”

“Ah, careful, careful!” Mr. Alawe said. “Please, I do not wish to create the wrong impression here. There is no quid pro quo. I’m not going to watch you or monitor you. No strings attached. When we make it official, I will have the lawyers draw something up to submit to your lawyers. All the legalese, you know.”

“Of course,” Will said, still grappling for the appropriate response to being given everything he wanted. “I still can’t -- I mean, this is incredibly generous of you.”

Mr. Alawe chuckled, as though truly amused now. “Make up your list. Do not hold back. And then, my dear Dr. Halstead, we will see just how generous I am.”

Will nodded, but he stopped, shaking his head one more time. “I still don’t know what I’ve done to get your attention. I mean, all over the city, doctors come and go all the time. Why me?”

“A stroke of luck, perhaps?” Mr. Alawe said. “Some would call it fate.”

“But why my ED. Why request me by name?” Will pressed.

Mr. Alawe sat back, arms crossed over his chest with some semblance of contemplation. “I have liked your hospital for some time now, and I believe strongly in what your organization does,” he said. “But I have found Dr. Dunst to be somewhat unimaginative. Now, do not get me wrong, she is an adept administrator and I’m sure she is a skilled doctor. I trust her to be a good steward of my support, but she does not leave me excited. She does not invoke passion.”

Will was still shaking his head, forehead creased. “And I do? You’ve only met me twice.”

Pointing at him, Mr. Alawe continued with animation. “And I noticed it right away!” he said enthusiastically. He clapped his hands once. “You have a spark, my friend! All the policy -- it is important. The ethics -- yes, yes, of course. But I can see it in you. You know why you do this. Why you practice medicine. In a life where nothing can excite me, seeing that in someone else -- well, it is all I need.”

Will listened, not sure what to say. The thought of polite denial came to him, but while Mr. Alawe was being effusive, he wasn’t wrong necessarily. Will knew why he was a doctor. He’d always known, and coming to Africa had helped him rehone his focus.

To save lives.

First.

Last.

Always.

Just save lives.

When nothing else made sense, that part was always clear. When everything else felt impossible, that was the thing that felt sane. When he doubted everything, he was sure of that much.

“I’m just here to save lives, Mr. Alawe,” Will said. “Nothing more, nothing less.”

The smile on the other man’s face widened warmly. “And it would give me great pleasure to help you do that, if you will allow me.”

Will was stupid. He knew that, and he was careful about it.

But not even Will would be stupid enough to mess something like this up.

-o-

The rest of the party was something like a dream. He mixed and mingled, feeling strangely confident in himself. After all, in one night he had accomplished a lot. He’d secured necessary funds while simultaneously executing on an explicit request from his boss. So far, during his tenure in Africa, he had seen great success with patients. But this? This was next level.

This was the kind of success he’d dreamed about back home. It was the thing he’d pined after. It was what had made him so frustrated when Ethan got promoted. He had seen his career options narrow down to nothing, and he hadn’t known what to do. It was the reason he’d so seriously considered taking the job at Kender, because this.

Success.

Actual, viable, meaningful success.

For all that he’d come to be a doctor, he couldn’t deny how this made him feel. He was here to save lives, to do his job, to work in the trenches -- but this.

It was dangerously heady. He had to learn the trick of flying high without getting his head stuck in the clouds. He couldn’t afford to be an Icarus anymore. The next sun he fell into would burn him alive.

Caution was warranted, therefore. And Will had been cautious. Will had been the epitome of cautious. He’d measured every moment, every relationship, every action. He hadn’t sought glory. He hadn’t tried to advance any personal gain.

But here he was.

Here he was.

The question was, then, what did he do next?

-o-

The party went late, and Will made a point to stay long enough to meet and greet as many people as possible. During all interactions, he was always quick to mention his connection to the hospital, and he spoke confidently about the hospital’s record and position. He was there as an ambassador, of sorts. Running high with confidence could make this about him, but he refused to compromise his intentions.

When he felt like he’d made an appropriate presence, he left for home. Mr. Alawe had insisted on having the car take him back, which Will accepted with less trepidation than before. Not sure what the formalities were, he tried to tip the driver, who politely refused.

Back at his apartment, he was still feeling giddy with anticipation, but he noted to himself that the deal wasn’t closed yet. He still had to talk to Dr. Dunst, and he had to be sure to keep in contact with Mr. Alawe. He knew that Mr. Alawe had made it clear that there were no strings attached to any of this, but Will wondered if there was some kind of personal response that was warranted.

He racked his mind, but he couldn’t come up with any protocol regarding generous rich donors who wanted to donate to your hospital because they liked you personally. Any token of gratitude might be misconstrued -- and really, what could Will possibly give a man like that?

He settled, instead, on a handwritten thank-you note. He’d follow up with a phone call later, but he thought Mr. Alawe might be amused by the personal touch.

He sat down, still too riled up with adrenaline to pretend he could sleep, and scratched out the note with his best penmanship.

Dear Mr. Alawe,

Thank you again for your generosity. I was nervous about attending the party, but you made sure that it was a wonderful affair for everyone. The thoughtfulness of sending the car was much appreciated. I’m still new to town, so getting around is hard sometimes.

However, the real thank-you is directed at your generous offer. I will be discussing the matter with Dr. Dunst and I will review my own files before I get back to you. The work we do in the ED -- the work the hospital does in this city, the organization in this continent -- would not be possible without people like you. That is not just because of your money, but because of your belief in our cause.

However, I will not pretend like the money does not help.

All the same, your offer of money will yield more than practical dividends. The renewed belief you have shared with me is something even more precious and valuable. Thank you for reminding me not just what the hospital is capable of, but what I am capable of, what we are all capable of.

I look forward to talking to you soon.

Thank you again.

Dr. Will Halstead.

Too much -- maybe?

Not enough -- possibly?

But some things were just better when you said them.

-o-

Will was pleased with his efforts.

When he went to report to Dr. Dunst the next morning, she was more than pleased.

In fact, she was nothing short of gobsmacked. She almost didn’t understand what he was saying.

“You mean to tell me that he wants to make a donation?” she asked, attempting to clarify Will’s account of the party.

“Not a donation,” Will said. “Any donation we can think of for the ED. He told me to make a list.”

She was a smart woman, and Will knew that, but she seemed to be having trouble grasping what was being said. “A list?” she asked slowly. “So he can choose his favorite projects?”

“So he can fulfill it all,” Will said.

She stared at him, and then, she laughed. “Dr. Halstead, I think perhaps you misunderstood.”

“I won’t say it’s not possible, but I don’t think it’s likely,” he said. He shrugged. “He told me to make a list, and that he would see what he could do. He likes what we do here, and he likes our passion. Obviously, we’ll have to follow up, but I think this is the real deal. I really do.”

She sat back and stared at him some more, finally shaking her head. It was the first time since he’d met her when she hadn’t been fully in control. “I have been trying to get on that man’s good side for a year now,” she said. “And you come in, you meet him once, and just like that, he gives us everything?”

“If it helps, I’m pretty sure it’s not a logical thing,” Will said. “He’s intuitive. He makes decisions not just on logic, but feelings.”

She tweaked her eyebrows and gave a small chortle. “Normally, I would criticize such behavior, but that would not seem prudent given the situation,” she said. She drew a breath, and sat forward once more, her hands clasped on her desk between them. “Admittedly, when I sent you to that party, I did not have the highest of expectations.”

“I know I don’t have much of a track record here,” Will said congenially.

“And I have too much of one,” she replied with a terse little smile. “I do not think I am someone who resists change, but I like it on my own terms. I am orderly. I seek to provide structure to all things. I believe that efficiency provides a safety net that sets good medicine apart from the bad.”

“I can’t disagree with that,” Will said. “From my own experience, discipline is an important part of being effective.”

“But I am forced to reckon with its limitations,” she said. “You have done something here that I have not been able to do, no matter how efficient my work has been. Which is all to say, thank you for your work here, Dr. Halstead. I have had my reservations about your background and your style, but you have shown me that you have attributes as well.”

From anyone else, that would seem to be damning with faint praise, but Will had worked for Dr. Dunst just long enough to know a compliment when it was directed at him. Given that she was right about his background and his style -- more than she could possibly know at this point -- he had to take it for what it was.

A sign that anyone -- truly anyone -- could change.

“Anyway,” she said, gathering herself once more and entirely on point. “He requested a list?”

“Anything we want for the ED,” Will said.

“Normally, I would think that is hyperbole, but I have seen the kinds of donations Mr. Alawe makes,” she said, reaching for a piece of paper and a pen. “We shall make a list, as thorough and detailed as you can imagine.”

“I have a few ideas,” Will said.

Her smile was tight in return. “I am sure I have more,” she said. “Then, I will trust you to contact Mr. Alawe, and we’ll get the legal paperwork going.”

Will sat forward, ready to participate. “Sounds like a plan.”

She seemed to hesitate, pen in hand as she looked him over one more time. “I do not trust people easily, Dr. Halstead. I am pleased that so far you have not disappointed me.”

Will could only smile, feeling the knot pull taut in the pit of his stomach. He thought of the other people who had trusted him -- Ms. Goodwin, Natalie, Sabeena -- and how spectacularly he had failed them all, how completely. Trust was hard to earn, and it was easy to lose. He’d taken that for granted; he’d taken most things for granted.

Not this, though.

He nodded at Dr. Dunst with a clarity he could feel tingling up and down his spine. “I promise you to always do my best.”

“Yes,” she mused, bringing the paper to bear. “And let us both hope that is always enough.”

-o-

Mr. Alawe had told Will to dream big.

With Dr. Dunst’s guidance, they dreamed very big.

Starting with updated iPads to a new portable imaging system, they capped off their wish list with two full time staff positions. In his mind, Will could only roughly begin to calculate the potential cost of all the items. As it quickly escalated to millions, he stopped trying to figure it out.

He felt conspicuous about it, and he went over a thousand apologies in his head when he finally put in a call back to Mr. Alawe to go over the list. Mr. Alawe was breezy in his response, skimming over the texted copy Will sent him with vague bemusement.

“If it’s too much, I completely understand,” Will started in his most deferential tone. “We have it ranked by order of importance, if that helps.”

“Do not say such things!” Mr. Alawe said. “Dream big, I said! And now you want to put those dreams in a box?”

“But this is a lot of money,” Will ventured cautiously.

“And I sold another patent this year that will cover all of this -- and my normal donations,” Mr. Alawe said. “I will have my lawyers start the process.”

It was such a quick approval, so complete, that Will found himself at a loss. “Mr. Alawe, I still don’t understand how this happened.”

“I am a man of many fancies, I am afraid,” Mr. Alawe said. “And you, my dear Dr. Halstead, for all your virtues and charms, are simply a lucky man.”

-o-

Will was lucky.

Now, that one was funny to think about. All through college and residency, he’d had something of a charmed life. He had to work hard, yes, and money was always tight, but he had a great habit of landing on his feet. Sneaking his way into the best placements. Finding the best roommates to pay for a higher brow lifestyle than he could afford. And he’d never had problems getting good grades, securing a letter of recommendation or landing a first date. He made friends easily; he was a popular party guest.

His luck had taken him to Africa in the first place, making him Adam’s best friend. Luck had him land on his feet in New York City -- beating out the local boys to secure a position at one of the highest paying practices in the state. And luck had him on the payroll at Med within a month of leaving New York, even despite his lack of references.

Yeah, Will was a lucky guy.

Who always seemed to blow it.

Every other time in his life, he’d taken his luck and squandered it. He’d thrown it away, all of it. He’d taken every good opportunity and wasted it, to the point where he was sure his luck had run out.

He’d taken some comfort in that. It had been easy to face life’s obstacles when he knew the default was an uphill climb. He could do it when he knew the odds were stacked against him and that losing was the status quo.

But this?

That his luck hadn’t run out?

That success might still be possible for him?

It was terrifying, honestly. Now, he had to be more cognizant of his choices. He had to be more measured in his responses. There was no way to pretend like each decision didn’t matter, big and small. He had to be on his guard. He had to be better, smarter, more responsible.

If he was going to be lucky, then this time he sure as hell wasn’t going to waste it.

-o-

The paperwork came through, and a lot sooner than Will expected. He spent his lunches with the legal department, going over the forms himself just to be sure everything was on the up and up. This was Will’s first time knee deep in funding issues, but it certainly wasn’t the first go around for Mr. Alawe. There were disclaimers and clauses for everything, and legal cleared the money, cashed the check and, within a week, released the funds.

The shopping spree started immediately thereafter.

Will took input from his ED staff, whom were more than happy to offer suggestions about the best tools they needed. However, Will spent the bulk of his time drawing up requisition forms, personally filling out each one and going over the fine print with Dr. Dunst after hours.

It was an intense sort of process, one Will would have never had patience for before. He probably would have cut corners, assumed everything was good enough. By taking responsibility -- full responsibility, too -- Will couldn’t rest until every t was crossed and every i was dotted.

Then, he had to track the shipments. He had to oversee their delivery. He had to fill out the inventory forms, and management quality control assessments. There was implementation, set up, training -- the whole nine yards.

In short, Will spent as much of his time treating patients as he did handling the influx of new wealth. He worked harder than ever, barely even going home and hardly stopping to eat or use the restroom.

That was not to say he regretted it, though. If anything, he could see the direct consequences of his choices here. Dr. Dunst took note of his hard work, often stopping by after hours to help him with the paperwork. And the rest of the ED was downright giddy. Morale was soaring with the new acquisitions, and people were more excited than ever to come to work.

Will was very explicit that he was not responsible for these gifts, but his repeated insistence that gratitude was being misplaced, they just seemed to laud him more. In short, they loved him, and Will quickly went from being the awkward new boss to the bonafide hero of the hospital.

He found this more overwhelming than the weight of the check itself, and while he did not take the praise of his employees for granted, he also didn’t give it more value than it was worth. There were still patients to treat, after all. And administrative paperwork didn’t just do itself.

And if he needed a reality check, all he had to do was visit Dr. Dunst. All his accomplishments, and she was still curt and to the point every time she talked to him. She didn’t gush about it or go on, but something had eased between them, a bridge at been built.

She trusted him.

That was more heady than all the rest combined.

-o-

He was working more, sure. And somehow, he was socializing more as well.

At his last posting, he had been reluctant to go out and do things. It had taken repeated efforts from Adam to get him out of his shell, and even then, he had preferred living in Adam’s shadow rather than venture too far out on his own. He’d gotten better at it, probably, but it hadn’t been his focus.

It wasn’t something he had in mind to replicate.

He didn’t even have time for a social life, frankly.

Somehow, however, through the goodwill he built up with Mr. Alawe’s donations, social life found him. People insisted that he show up for staff parties. He was cajoled into stopping by for drinks after work. At parties, he was convinced that the whole ED was coming and he just had to be there.

As the boss, Will needed to keep some distance, of course, but he also knew the value of camaraderie. The ED was efficient and productive when he arrived, but what it had been lacking was soul. It had needed a community.

He could help them grow from coworkers to family.

Then, and only then, would they see what this ED was capable of.

-o-

Simply put, things were going well. Will was adapting to the leadership role he’d been given, and he was quickly making a positive impact on the lives of his staff and the patients who came through the ED. He was successfully working with protocol, using policy to help form the rhythm of his ED.

He was finding balance, too. He was working with the needs of the moment and keeping it in check with the bigger issues within the hospital hierarchy. He was maintaining a robust professional presence while slowly increasing his personal connections. He worked long hours, but started to engage in hobbies more often. He was playing his guitar more often, and he called Jay several times a week. When Maggie called, he started to answer those calls, too.

Then, out of nowhere, he got a call from Natalie.

The call came through while he was on duty. At the desk, he was updating charts between patients. He glanced at his phone out of curiosity, and nearly froze when he saw the number on his caller ID.

They hadn’t been together for years, but her name was still programmed into his phone.

And the sight of her name still gave him chills.

Dumbfounded, he was too numb to answer, and he let it ring until it went to voicemail. Mortified, he held out hope that that would be that, but then his voicemail pinged several minutes later.

One new message.

He’d come a long way in the last six months, but it seemed he hadn’t come far enough. Little things still took him back, and the thought of hearing Natalie’s voice again was one of those things.

How much he’d loved her.

How much she’d hurt him.

How much he’d hurt her.

How much he’d been willing to give up for her, even in the end.

How much he wasn’t always sure this was the end.

Their casual texts up to this point had been one thing. He hadn’t minded talking about Natalie through an intermediary, and she did come up in conversations with Maggie and Jay.

But an actual conversation?

The last time he’d seen her, they’d both been at their lowest points, looking to rebuild. They’d parted ways as friends, more alike than they were different.

Completely flustered by this, Will put his phone away. In fact, out of fear that she might call a second time, he just went ahead and turned his phone off, refusing to even look at the device until he was done for the day. Even then, he made a point to be slow at the office, and he took his time getting home. He bothered himself to make a full dinner, and he ate it while reading a medical journal that he decided he was overdue to read.

Then, and only then, did he turn on his phone -- and that was primarily to avoid getting censured by Jay. If he didn’t reply to Jay’s texts at least once throughout the day, his brother was likely to worry.

Obediently, like the good brother he was trying to be, Will replied to Jay’s texts. Then, he checked the rest of his texts and replied to as many of those as he could. Then, and only then, did he resign himself to checking his voicemail.

The thought of ignoring the message did come to mind, and it was a tempting notion. But Will was invested in being responsible. If he started something, he needed to finish it. And he couldn’t pretend like Natalie wasn’t the biggest loose thread in the whole of his messed up life.

With a gathered breath, he resigned himself to this, and let the message play.

“Hey, Will!” Natalie started off, her voice bright and bubbly. She hesitated, and her tone faltered. “I, um, guess you’re busy right now. I heard from Maggie that you’d gone to Africa, so I guess that would make you pretty busy, huh?”

She laughed a little, but it tapered off. On the recording, he could hear her inhale.

“Anyway,” she said. “I just -- I don’t know. Wanted to touch base, I guess? Make sure that things were okay? A lot had happened the last time we talked, and sometimes I just think about you, is all. Where you are. What you’re doing. I just want to know that you’re okay.”

There was another pause, this one less tenuous than before.

“I’m good, for what that’s worth,” she went on. “I’ve got things figured out at work, and it’s really nice being close to family again. Owen is getting to know his cousins, and it’s nice. It’s really nice. And Mom is doing great -- honestly, great. She’s been asking about you, too.”

She inhaled once more, but the break was shorter this time as Natalie seemed to rally the last of her thoughts.

“Anyway, I’m just checking in,” she said. “If you have time, give me a call back. I’d love to, you know, catch up or whatever.”

And now, when she paused, the emotion beneath the words lingered.

“I miss you, Will,” she said, a little softer now. “Bye.”

He listened, breath baited and held taut between his ribs, as the call disconnected.

He cut the voicemail off, then, letting his phone go idle as he stared at it, and heard her voice still reverberating in his head.

I miss you, Will. Bye.

She missed him?

He might dismiss it as polite small talk, but she had called him. She had called him out of the blue when they had taken paths in the opposite direction. She had called him.

Not professionally.

Not causally.

She had called him because she missed him.

It seemed so simple, on the surface, but it was a lot more than that. It was everything.

When he had first met Natalie, talking to her had been the best thing in the world. He could have sat and listened to her for hours, and he would smile long after their conversations were over, just mulling them around in his head. He’d loved the sound of her voice, its cadence and pitch, and he’d loved the way she thought. Her compassion, the way her diagnostics always varied just lightly from his own. She’d challenged him; she’d made him laugh.

For years, talking to her had been the highlight of each and every day.

It had gotten complicated, of course, but most of that was Will’s fault. When he agreed to be a CI, he had lied to her. His noble intentions had shredded the foundation of their relationship, and when he walked out on their wedding day, bloodied and shellshocked, the whole thing had collapsed. They had tried to get it back together, but when they talked afterward, it was like they were having different conversations.

Now, instead of words, there was a stolen gun, a returned wedding ring and a TBI between them. She had offered to start over, but all he’d heard was the way her voice was closing in around him when all he wanted was to finally be free.

He hadn’t been wrong, exactly. Living without Natalie had probably been important to him. All that time he’d trailed after her, and he’d let his love for her define his purpose in Chicago. Letting her go had given him a chance to find himself, and that was an idea he liked.

It just hadn’t panned out.

All he’d found was one failed work project after another, one failed relationship after another. A year after letting Natalie go, he’d found out he’d gotten nowhere in the interim.

And then, when he heard her voice again, he was really listening now. He could hear what she wasn’t saying, and when he spoke, she could hear him, too. The connection had been back, and Will had had no aspirations for romance, but the idea that he might have his best friend again had been something to consider.

He did consider it.

He considered it so much that when she insisted she didn’t steal the pills, he knew that she had. He considered it so much that when she begged him to stop, he did.

He didn’t turn her in.

He didn’t take the pills.

He’d agreed to help her because he could hear her again. He could hear the woman he fell in love with and he had been willing to do anything to protect her.

Anything.

Now, in the aftermath, he wasn’t sure what part he regretted. He’d made mistakes in Chicago -- mistakes he could not justify or rectify. And yet, when he broke them down, sometimes he couldn’t imagine doing things differently. He never could have turned Natalie in, and he could never deny her something that might save her mother’s life. He could never be the one to break her heart, not again. He’d lied to her when it counted, and now he would lie for her when it counted more.

This was a problem, though. This was his weakness. He didn’t know how to grasp it, and the uncertainty of it had thoroughly undone him. He’d run around the globe to do more than restart his career. He’d come back to figure out how the hell he’d lost control of himself so completely.

Sometimes, he thought he was getting there.

But then, talking to Natalie, hearing her voice.

And he was right back at square one.

Because she had called him.

Because she wanted to be sure he was okay.

Because she missed him.

Because he didn’t know what any of that meant to him anymore.