Same Words, Different Situation - Chapter 7
Yes, everyone. I finally got off my ass and got this chapter finished. I have been working on it on and off for the past 3 months or so. I hope it was worth the wait. A special thanks to teh_kittykat for the idea behind D's reasons. I hope I did it justice. Also, a special thanks to glitterbats since I think Vincent's reaction to said reasons was very similar to hers when I told her about it. So now, without further ado...
Title: Same Words, Different Situation - Part 7
Fandom: Petshop of Horrors
Rating: PG-13
Archive: Ask and ye shall be as gods receive
Warning: Lots of profanity, flashbacks, reincarnation, possible errors about certain medical professions, two men kissing (Oh noes!)
Spoilers: Volume 10 of the Petshop of Horrors manga is mentioned, and will likely continue to be so. The Papa D/Vesca side story from Shin Petshop of Horrors might also be referenced
"So tell me again. Why are you working tonight, Maddy? I should think you'd be at home with milk and cookies, waiting for Santa to come."
It was 11 pm, Christmas Eve. And try as he might, Vincent was having a hard time holding back from teasing the self-appointed sugar plum fairy of St. Rita's. Especially since she'd put mistletoe in his office. They were currently in the break room, enjoying a bit of downtime between rounds and emergency surgeries. Especially since Vincent had asked to work the ER tonight.
"I told you, that's your fault. You're the grinch that doesn't take Christmas off. And since I'm your assistant, they wanted me to work the same shifts that you do," Madeline said, a little glumly. Unlike Vincent, she liked Christmas, and she had family to spend it with.
It was kind of scary to see Madeline without her normal ever-present perkiness, and it drew a soft sigh from Vincent. "You don't have to work all of my shifts with me. It might help if you got to know some of the other doctors. I'll look into it for you. Promise. It can be your Christmas present. Besides, it isn't like you have to work tomorrow. I made sure of that already."
Maddy sighed. "That hardly helps me tonight. But thanks, Vince," she said, offering him a smile. "Why do you always work on Christmas anyway? They say you've been doing it since you started here."
Vincent was quiet for a few moments, and he fidgeted with his St. Christopher's medal as he thought of how to answer her. There were a lot of reasons he didn't like Christmas and worked it every year. So many reasons, and almost all of them were related to his father. "I do it because I don't have anywhere else to go on Christmas," he said finally.
Madeline paused. For all she and Vincent were friends, there was still very little that she actually knew about Vincent's family aside from the fact that he didn't talk about his father very nicely. But a remark like that caused to ask the question anyway.
"What about your dad's?"
Vincent snorted. "Maddy, please. I'd rather not talk about that son of a bitch on Christmas if it's all the same to you."
"It isn't! All I know is that you don't like him that much!"
Vincent growled a little bit. "Do you know what the best Christmas present I got growing up was, Maddy? That my asshole father would drink too much spiked eggnog and pass out before he could start hitting me."
"Vincent..." Madeline murmured.
"So you'll forgive me if I'd rather spend Christmas here than there," Vincent groused, pulling out his cigarettes. The only thing that kept him from lighting up was that they were still inside. "So what about you?" he asked after the silence had stretched on too long. "Why are you so down? Who do you have that you wanna be with tonight? A new boy?"
"No," Maddy said, swatting at him. "My family's not that bad," she said with a smile. "Not that it's a normal family, but--"
"Maddy, no family is ever normal. Trust me on that."
"Aw, Vinny, what kind of way is that to talk about your family?"
Vincent froze upon hearing his father's ever-too-cheerful voice from the doorway. He turned slowly, hoping that it was a hallucination brought on from working too long. Unfortunately, he had no such luck, because in the doorway was his father, grinning. A few steps behind him was a flustered looking young nurse who looked about as dismayed as Vincent himself did.
"Dr. Harris, I tried to stop him but--"
"It's all right, Mary," Vincent said, sighing softly. A cigarette was looking better and better. "I'll deal with him. You go get the bull nurse."
Mary nodded, before running off to get the aforementioned bull nurse. Tony scowled at his son, who was scowling right back at him. Madeline looked between the two of them, thinking about how alike the two of them looked right then. However, she kept her mouth shut for the time being. She was more interested in seeing how this played out. It was simply a shame that she didn't have popcorn.
As it was, it was Tony who finally broke the silence.
"It's Christmas Eve, Vinny. What the hell are you doing in the middle of St. fucking Elsewhere's?"
"My job," Vincent said, as if such a thing should be obvious.
"Working? On Christmas? What the fuck are you talking about?! Come on, you and I are going to mass."
"What?!" Vincent demanded, feeling his eye twitch a little.
"Why do you think I came here? To wish you a merry Christmas? You need to get a bit of religion back," Tony continued, not paying any mind to Vincent's incredulity.
"Dad, you're drunk. Go home."
Not that Vincent was overly surprised at that fact. He was more surprised that his father had made it to St. Rita's and hadn't passed out in the ER or out in the gutter or something.
"So I got into a bit of the holiday cheer. There's nothing wrong with that," Tony said, wagging his finger and grinning. He thought it made him look charming. In reality, it just made him look stupid.
"A bit of the holiday cheer?" Vincent asked, snorting in disbelief. "I'm surprised we couldn't smell you as you staggered down the goddamned hallway!"
"You will not take the Lord's name in vain on Christmas!" Tony yelled, the cheerfulness gone for the time being.
"Look, my issue isn't with God, all right? It's with you coming into the middle of my hospital on Christmas and demanding that I'm going to mass with you! I'm working the ER shift. Which means I could have a surgery to do any fucking minute! I do not have time to be dealing with your bullshit!"
Vincent's volume easily matched his father's. But it was a new voice that drowned them both out.
"Dr. Harris! What on earth is going on in here?! This is, in case you have forgotten, a hospital. Emergency Ward or not." D was standing in the door, looking very cross. And he had his arms crossed and was glaring at the scene.
Tony whirled, staggering a little when he did. And he stared at D for a few moments. "Vinny, why didn't you tell me that you worked with such a pretty lady?"
D twitched just a little. It wasn't the first time that he'd been mistaken for a female, and that wasn't what really bothered him. It was the disgusting... familiarity that this loud, irritating man seemed to have with Vincent.
"Dr. Harris, are you well-acquainted with this... person who smells like he fell into a distillery?" the count asked. His voice was cool, clipped, and there was an acidic sarcasm in his voice.
"Unfortunately, this is my father. I don't like having to admit that I'm related to him," Vincent said. He could feel, literally feel the headache starting to throb in his temples.
The Count was quiet for a moment, before shaking his head. "Apparently we've more in common than I thought," he murmured.
"Forgive my son. He has awful manners. Which is why he hasn't introduced us," Tony said, staggering over to D, and taking one of his hands, before kissing it exaggeratedly. It looked to Vincent as if his father was drooling on the kami's hand. "I'm Tony Harris."
"The pleasure is all yours, I assure you," the Count said, pulling his hand away, as if he'd been burned.
"Are my son's bad manners catching or something? The least you can do is tell me your name, beautiful," Tony said, looking bemusedly at where D's hand had been just a moment or two before.
"Dad, maybe you should just go the hell home," Vincent said, shaking his head.
"Not before I get this lovely lady's name," Tony protested, shaking his head. "And maybe a date." He dropped his voice to a stage whisper then, too drunk to realize that D would still be able to hear him. "I bet she's the easy type. She's probably a slut who's slept with everyone at the hospital."
D looked about ready to tear Tony Harris's eyes out. And he took a few steps forward, possibly to do just that, when Madeline finally decided to add her two cents to the discussion.
"You know, I think there may be a way to end this without anyone losing any limbs," she said helpfully.
D turned to glare at her, but the glare lost a bit of it's thunder when he saw how disgustingly cheerful Vincent's assistant looked. As for Vincent, he swore softly when he saw that look on the younger woman's face.
"Out with it, Maddy. That look usually means you have mayhem brewing. No good ever comes of it," Vincent said, though he was smirking a little now. He figured that his Christmas present could be watching Madeline unleash her own special brand of destruction on his father.
"Mayhem? From a pretty thing like this?" Tony asked, his attention temporarily diverted from staring at D's non-existent breasts.
"Well," Madeline said, smiling sweetly. "He's very drunk. And he did come to a hospital of all places. That has to count as some kind of cry for help, doesn't it?"
The smirk that had been playing about Vincent's features started to turn into more of a grin. "So, what did you have in mind?"
"Well," Maddy said, as she wound her way towards the three men, "I'm sure that we have enough room to put him in detox, don't you, gentlemen?" And as she asked the question, she tapped Tony on the nose.
"Detox?!" Tony asked, looking distinctly less cheerful all of the sudden.
"Detox," Vincent said, almost in unison with D, as the two of them exchanged a nod.
Of course, that's about the time that Mary poked her head in, before being pushed aside by the bull nurse. The "bull nurse" had been working at the hospital since time out of mind, and was old, cranky, and built like a brick wall. She walked in, and glared at Tony Harris, before looking at Vincent.
"What's going on?" she demanded.
"Ah, Florence, how nice of you to arrive. You came just in time," the Count said smoothly. "Mr. Harris here needs to be admitted and placed in detox immediately. I can think of no other person that would be better for the job of escorting him to a room than you."
Florence looked at Tony impassively, before snorting, and grabbing his arm. "This way, Mr. Harris," she said. And with that, she more or less dragged him out of the room, despite any and all protest.
*~*~*
It was 1:57 am, Christmas day, the next time that Vincent actually stopped and looked at the clock.
His father was still in detox, and would be for at least the next 24 hours. Detox on Christmas: it really was a better Christmas present for his father than Vincent could have ever thought up by himself. On one hand, it would keep the sorry bastard off the streets and more or less all right. But on the other, it meant that he would be in closer contact with his father than he would like on Christmas. At least he could stay away from the detox area if he wanted to, and wouldn't have to put up with the man's moaning and inevitable withdrawal symptoms.
Vincent sighed, closing one of the Christmas cards that he'd gotten from his patients. The one he'd been looking at was from Sarah, his little sprouting dryad. Inside the card, pressed, had been a flower. The message inside had wished him a Merry Christmas, and said that the flower had been the first one that she'd bloomed, and she wanted him to have it.
"At this rate, I'm going to have an entire harem of girls if all of them that are supposedly in love with me grow up and attempt to marry me," Vincent mused, smiling slightly at the thought.
"When one considers your rather dubious ability to make pregnant women go into labor, Dr. Harris, the thought of you with a harem is really quite disturbing."
That thought came from D, who was standing in the doorway.
"Don't you have anywhere better to be on Christmas day than tormenting me, D?" Vincent teased, grinning a little.
"After the disturbance your family members caused around here less than 4 hours ago? Not really. Besides, I just got out of an emergency delivery perhaps twenty minutes ago," D said. And the face that accompanied that statement made it quite clear that D did not wish to discuss the matter any further.
"Yeah, I try to forget that I'm related to him. I don't need the reminder now that he's safely across the hospital and no longer my problem, thanks," Vincent said, making a face, before getting up and pouring himself a cup of coffee from the coffeepot he kept in the office just for nights such as these. "You want some?" he asked, looking over at D.
The kami paused, before nodding, and actually approaching Vincent's desk. "I suppose. Though I was under the impression that milk and cookies were more traditional this time of night on Christmas."
"Eh, maybe for a fat man who rides a sleigh. But caffeine trumps a sugar rush when you're pulling a double shift in the ER any day," Vincent said, snorting softly, and offering the second mug of coffee to D.
"With an attitude like that, someone is going to be getting coal in their stocking," D said, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.
Vincent snorted. "Coal would be preferable to dealing with my father."
"He is a rather beastly man, isn't he?" D asked.
Vincent sighed. "Look, I'm sorry you had to deal with that," he said. "I mean, I try to avoid the man. I hate when other people have to deal with him."
"I, unfortunately, know how you feel quite a bit better than I would care to," D said, making a slight face.
"At least your father doesn't come tearing into the hospital to try and drag you places," Vincent grumbled.
D wrinkled his nose. "Dr. Harris, that was a mental image that I definitely did not need."
"Merry Christmas, D," Vincent teased, grinning now.
"I'm beginning to think that even coal is too good for you," D groused. Though there was a slight smile playing across his features.
"Then what would you give me for Christmas, D?" Vincent asked. And while he was grinning, his eyes were surprisingly serious.
"Hmph. What makes you think that I'd give you anything?" the Count asked, looking at Vincent challengingly.
"You must have some reason for being here on Christmas at this time of night," Vincent said, as if it were obvious.
"And what do you think that I would possibly have for you, Dr. Harris?" D demanded, leaning over the desk to glare at Vincent.
"How bout a kiss?" Vincent asked, not missing a beat.
"A what?!" D asked, looking like he'd just been hit by a board.
"Well... you are right up in my face under the mistletoe," Vincent said, with a triumphant note in his voice. And then, before D had a chance to protest, Vincent closed the distance between them and caught the kami in a kiss.
D mmphed a bit in surprise. But before he could protest, the kiss was over, and Vincent had pulled back. D sputtered a little bit, trying to get his bearings, and staring at Vincent with a mixture of shock and confusion on his face.
"What was that?!" the Count demanded, eyes wide, as he glared at Vincent.
"A kiss. Calm down. It's not like I bent you over my desk or anything," Vincent said, grinning happily.
"I'm aware of what it was... but why on earth would you want to kiss me?!" D asked, looking at Vincent like he had three heads.
"You're gorgeous," Vincent said, shrugging. "And it's Christmas, and there was mistletoe. You know, tradition and all of that."
D sighed, looking at Vincent, his eyes unreadable. And when he spoke next, his voice was quiet. And troubled. "I've been down this road before, Dr. Harris."
"Not with me," Vincent said stubbornly. "Besides, D, it was just a kiss. I didn't ask you to move in with me or anything."
"Yet," D murmured, shaking his head. Something was bothering him about that kiss. And he couldn't quite place what it was.
"What's really bothering you, D? After all, if you'd minded that much, you probably would have tried to scratch my eyes out," Vincent pointed out.
The Count looked a bit startled. He was never so easy to read. And he looked at Vincent, for a few long moments, as if considering something. "I don't want you to attach any meaning to what I'm about to do, Dr. Harris," he said, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. And then, he walked around the desk, got into Vincent's personal space, and kissed the cynical young surgeon. Soundly.
Vincent made a surprised noise into the kiss. How the hell was he not supposed to attach meaning to this. Especially when D was willingly kissing him and currently trying to deepen it. Which Vincent let him do, even as he growled into the kiss a little, trailing his hands down the kami's back. As for D, he was surprised that Vincent ceded control of the kiss to him. And for a moment, despite the fact that Vincent tasted of some strange mix of nicotine and coffee, D let himself relax into it.
He doesn't kiss like Vesca, was the thought that flitted through D's mind, before he purred faintly into the kiss, his fingers twining in Vincent's short hair. And it was a few more minutes before he broke the kiss, pulling away and looking at Vincent. Who was now looking at D with a mixture of surprise and smugness on his face.
"Merry Christmas, Dr. Harris," the Count said, a small, pleased smile playing across his lips. And before Vincent had a chance to say anything, he turned and walked out of his office.
*~*~*
It was December 30th, and Vincent felt like he hadn't slept in at least 3 days. He knew that he'd probably been back to his apartment a grand total of one time in the last 72 hours. And he'd slept for maybe a couple of hours before his phone had rung, waking him. He might have ignored it too, if Charon hadn't decided to chomp down on his toes with greater-than-normal viciousness.
He'd just finished a surgery and was trying not to fall asleep while smoking. It was harder than one might think. Not to mention he had another pressing thing to do before he could curl up and attempt to get some sleep. He just had to stay awake long enough to find D.
"How many times must I tell you that smoking is a filthy habit?" D's voice came from behind him.
Well, speak of the devil... "Do you know why cigarettes were invented, D?" Vincent asked, in response to D's comment.
"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me," the Count said, rolling his eyes.
"Cigarettes were invented by coffee drinkers so that they could stay up longer and drink more coffee," Vincent supplied.
"So what's your excuse, Dr. Harris?" D asked, smirking faintly.
"I'm a coffee drinker out of necessity," Vincent said with a grin.
"I don't see any coffee."
"That's beside the point, D," Vincent said. "Though I'm glad you're here. I have something to ask you and this saves me the trouble of trying to find you."
"Something to ask me?" D asked.
"Yeah. I got reservations for dinner tomorrow night, and I was wondering if you'd like to come along," Vincent asked, off-handedly.
"Dinner. On New Year's Eve. With you. That sounds suspiciously like a date, Dr. Harris," D teased.
"And what if it is?" Vincent asked, looking over his shoulder at the kami.
"Will there be dancing afterwards too, in order to make this date properly cliché?" D asked, though he was, surprisingly, smiling.
"Nah. Not unless you like clubbing," Vincent said with a grin. "I'm afraid that's the only time I go dancing."
"Clubbing is just a euphemism for having sex on a dance floor to a beat," D said, wrinkling his nose.
"And?" Vincent asked grinning. And then he laughed at the withering glare of doom D was giving him. "Okay, we'll give clubbing a miss I guess. But will you go with me to dinner?"
D considered it for a few long moments before answering. "Well, I don't currently have any plans for tomorrow. I suppose I could spend at least part of the evening with you."
"Good. I'll pick you up at 7," Vincent said, flashing the Count a smile. "By the way... what have you been doing to the babies in the hospital?"
The way Vincent threw that question in there made it seem as if he was asking D what he thought about the weather as of late. But it was a question that for a split second made Count D go very very still before responding.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Dr. Harris," he said, brushing off the question.
"I think you do," Vincent said. "I mean, giving newborns injections which don't go on their charts... for at least a month... well, I'm sure people would ask questions."
"It seems people are already asking questions if you're any thing to go by," the Count said dryly, though he was eyeing Vincent warily. And trying to push down the instinct to run. He needed to find out how much the young surgeon knew, and how much damage control he might have to do.
"I haven't told anyone about it yet, if that's what you're worried about. But it's been going on for at least a month. Possibly longer. Possibly since you've been here, I don't know. None of the charts of the babies you've delivered have mention of these injections. And generally, kids that young don't get vaccinations. But... the babies survive, so it's not anything lethal," Vincent said, considering it.
"What, exactly, are you driving at, Dr. Harris?" the Count asked coldly. "And if this is an attempt to blackmail me--"
"It's not," Vincent said, shaking his head. Then he tilted his head back and looked at the kami. "You remember that promise you made me. The promise to answer a question truthfully when I told you about my scars?"
D swore softly in Chinese. He remembered. He had been hoping that the young surgeon hadn't though. "Unfortunately, yes."
"Well, I'm calling it in," Vincent said, his eyes serious. "What are you injecting the babies with?"
For a few minutes, the Count was quiet. He was trying to figure out how to get out of answering Vincent's question, quite honestly. He remembered that Vincent's definition of important had been if the question had been about his past or reasoning. So maybe... "You know... that doesn't really fit with what I promised you, Dr. Harris," he said. It was worth a try.
Really, it was, but Vincent wasn't buying it. "The last month has been your past," Vincent pointed out, grinning a little. "And I daresay injecting babies with something that doesn't kill them when at one point you wanted to commit genocide of the whole human race says something about your reasoning as well." Yes, he remembered how he had defined important as well.
The Count sighed. "I suppose it's something of a different tactic," he finally said.
"What do you mean?" Vincent asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Perhaps death changes your perception of things," the kami said quietly, before finally sitting down next to Vincent. "I realized that even if I did wipe out humanity, ultimately, it wouldn't fix anything. The damage that humans had done to the earth would still be there. It got me thinking." He was quiet, trying to figure out how much to tell the young surgeon. How much he could tell him and answer the question without revealing everything. Was there a way to do that?
"And what conclusion did you reach?" Vincent asked when the silence had gone on a few moments too long.
Perhaps there wasn't a way to avoid telling Vincent everything. Or at least everything about the injections. But... if the young doctor hadn't told anyone yet, then he still might not if he knew the reason.
"Humans hurt this planet because they can't see what they're doing to it. I thought that perhaps if I could open their eyes, if they could learn to see things the way they really are, they might do something about it. They might change their actions and stop hurting the planet, the animals, everything. After meeting Leon Orcot and his brother... I realized that there were people who can see things the way they really are. I thought that if children grew up being able to see the true nature of things from a very young age, then they might be more careful about how they treat the world, about the choices they make. They might try to fix the damage," D explained, looking down at his hands.
Vincent was staring at him. "You still haven't answered the question," he said quietly.
"I'm a geneticist, remember?" D said, smiling, though there wasn't much humor in it. "I simply managed to target the gene, which is normally recessive by the way, that enables people to see things as they really are. The injections simply activate the gene."
Vincent was quiet for a few moments in the wake of that explanation. And then he smiled. "That's either completely brilliant or completely crazy," he said, something akin to awe in his voice.
"Nothing else has worked! This is the last thing I could think of," the Count said sadly. "And now... now you have the power to completely shut it down."
Vincent was quiet for a few long minutes. "I do, yeah. But what good would it do?" he asked, shrugging.
The Count stared at him like he had three heads. "What do you mean?"
"So I tell people. Number one, who's to say they'd believe me? Number two... it might be brilliant, or it might be crazy. Hell, it's probably both. But it's not hurting the kids. They'll grow up being able to see and talk to animals. They'll think it's normal. For them at least."
"You're very accepting of this idea," the Count said, looking at Vincent sideways.
"I've been talking to animals and seeing them since I was five," he said, dropping his now-forgotten (and burnt out) cigarette to the ground. "At best, it'll work and maybe the world will end up a little less fucked up in the end. At worst, it won't, and nothing will change." Vincent shrugged.
"You never fail to surprise me, Dr. Harris," D admitted. "Every time I think I understand you, you do something I wasn't expecting."
"Trust me, the feeling's mutual, D," Vincent said, getting to his feet. "Now I have rounds to do, and a patient to check on before I go home and try to sleep. Thankfully, I'm going to be off duty for the next day or two. I think the bull nurse is going to try and exile me from the hospital if I don't get some real sleep."
"Very well. I will see you tomorrow then?" the Count asked, watching Vincent.
"Yeah. I'll pick you up at 7," he said, flashing D a grin, before heading into the hospital. It looked like it was going to be a happy new year after all.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Title: Same Words, Different Situation - Part 7
Fandom: Petshop of Horrors
Rating: PG-13
Archive: Ask and ye shall be as gods receive
Warning: Lots of profanity, flashbacks, reincarnation, possible errors about certain medical professions, two men kissing (Oh noes!)
Spoilers: Volume 10 of the Petshop of Horrors manga is mentioned, and will likely continue to be so. The Papa D/Vesca side story from Shin Petshop of Horrors might also be referenced
"So tell me again. Why are you working tonight, Maddy? I should think you'd be at home with milk and cookies, waiting for Santa to come."
It was 11 pm, Christmas Eve. And try as he might, Vincent was having a hard time holding back from teasing the self-appointed sugar plum fairy of St. Rita's. Especially since she'd put mistletoe in his office. They were currently in the break room, enjoying a bit of downtime between rounds and emergency surgeries. Especially since Vincent had asked to work the ER tonight.
"I told you, that's your fault. You're the grinch that doesn't take Christmas off. And since I'm your assistant, they wanted me to work the same shifts that you do," Madeline said, a little glumly. Unlike Vincent, she liked Christmas, and she had family to spend it with.
It was kind of scary to see Madeline without her normal ever-present perkiness, and it drew a soft sigh from Vincent. "You don't have to work all of my shifts with me. It might help if you got to know some of the other doctors. I'll look into it for you. Promise. It can be your Christmas present. Besides, it isn't like you have to work tomorrow. I made sure of that already."
Maddy sighed. "That hardly helps me tonight. But thanks, Vince," she said, offering him a smile. "Why do you always work on Christmas anyway? They say you've been doing it since you started here."
Vincent was quiet for a few moments, and he fidgeted with his St. Christopher's medal as he thought of how to answer her. There were a lot of reasons he didn't like Christmas and worked it every year. So many reasons, and almost all of them were related to his father. "I do it because I don't have anywhere else to go on Christmas," he said finally.
Madeline paused. For all she and Vincent were friends, there was still very little that she actually knew about Vincent's family aside from the fact that he didn't talk about his father very nicely. But a remark like that caused to ask the question anyway.
"What about your dad's?"
Vincent snorted. "Maddy, please. I'd rather not talk about that son of a bitch on Christmas if it's all the same to you."
"It isn't! All I know is that you don't like him that much!"
Vincent growled a little bit. "Do you know what the best Christmas present I got growing up was, Maddy? That my asshole father would drink too much spiked eggnog and pass out before he could start hitting me."
"Vincent..." Madeline murmured.
"So you'll forgive me if I'd rather spend Christmas here than there," Vincent groused, pulling out his cigarettes. The only thing that kept him from lighting up was that they were still inside. "So what about you?" he asked after the silence had stretched on too long. "Why are you so down? Who do you have that you wanna be with tonight? A new boy?"
"No," Maddy said, swatting at him. "My family's not that bad," she said with a smile. "Not that it's a normal family, but--"
"Maddy, no family is ever normal. Trust me on that."
"Aw, Vinny, what kind of way is that to talk about your family?"
Vincent froze upon hearing his father's ever-too-cheerful voice from the doorway. He turned slowly, hoping that it was a hallucination brought on from working too long. Unfortunately, he had no such luck, because in the doorway was his father, grinning. A few steps behind him was a flustered looking young nurse who looked about as dismayed as Vincent himself did.
"Dr. Harris, I tried to stop him but--"
"It's all right, Mary," Vincent said, sighing softly. A cigarette was looking better and better. "I'll deal with him. You go get the bull nurse."
Mary nodded, before running off to get the aforementioned bull nurse. Tony scowled at his son, who was scowling right back at him. Madeline looked between the two of them, thinking about how alike the two of them looked right then. However, she kept her mouth shut for the time being. She was more interested in seeing how this played out. It was simply a shame that she didn't have popcorn.
As it was, it was Tony who finally broke the silence.
"It's Christmas Eve, Vinny. What the hell are you doing in the middle of St. fucking Elsewhere's?"
"My job," Vincent said, as if such a thing should be obvious.
"Working? On Christmas? What the fuck are you talking about?! Come on, you and I are going to mass."
"What?!" Vincent demanded, feeling his eye twitch a little.
"Why do you think I came here? To wish you a merry Christmas? You need to get a bit of religion back," Tony continued, not paying any mind to Vincent's incredulity.
"Dad, you're drunk. Go home."
Not that Vincent was overly surprised at that fact. He was more surprised that his father had made it to St. Rita's and hadn't passed out in the ER or out in the gutter or something.
"So I got into a bit of the holiday cheer. There's nothing wrong with that," Tony said, wagging his finger and grinning. He thought it made him look charming. In reality, it just made him look stupid.
"A bit of the holiday cheer?" Vincent asked, snorting in disbelief. "I'm surprised we couldn't smell you as you staggered down the goddamned hallway!"
"You will not take the Lord's name in vain on Christmas!" Tony yelled, the cheerfulness gone for the time being.
"Look, my issue isn't with God, all right? It's with you coming into the middle of my hospital on Christmas and demanding that I'm going to mass with you! I'm working the ER shift. Which means I could have a surgery to do any fucking minute! I do not have time to be dealing with your bullshit!"
Vincent's volume easily matched his father's. But it was a new voice that drowned them both out.
"Dr. Harris! What on earth is going on in here?! This is, in case you have forgotten, a hospital. Emergency Ward or not." D was standing in the door, looking very cross. And he had his arms crossed and was glaring at the scene.
Tony whirled, staggering a little when he did. And he stared at D for a few moments. "Vinny, why didn't you tell me that you worked with such a pretty lady?"
D twitched just a little. It wasn't the first time that he'd been mistaken for a female, and that wasn't what really bothered him. It was the disgusting... familiarity that this loud, irritating man seemed to have with Vincent.
"Dr. Harris, are you well-acquainted with this... person who smells like he fell into a distillery?" the count asked. His voice was cool, clipped, and there was an acidic sarcasm in his voice.
"Unfortunately, this is my father. I don't like having to admit that I'm related to him," Vincent said. He could feel, literally feel the headache starting to throb in his temples.
The Count was quiet for a moment, before shaking his head. "Apparently we've more in common than I thought," he murmured.
"Forgive my son. He has awful manners. Which is why he hasn't introduced us," Tony said, staggering over to D, and taking one of his hands, before kissing it exaggeratedly. It looked to Vincent as if his father was drooling on the kami's hand. "I'm Tony Harris."
"The pleasure is all yours, I assure you," the Count said, pulling his hand away, as if he'd been burned.
"Are my son's bad manners catching or something? The least you can do is tell me your name, beautiful," Tony said, looking bemusedly at where D's hand had been just a moment or two before.
"Dad, maybe you should just go the hell home," Vincent said, shaking his head.
"Not before I get this lovely lady's name," Tony protested, shaking his head. "And maybe a date." He dropped his voice to a stage whisper then, too drunk to realize that D would still be able to hear him. "I bet she's the easy type. She's probably a slut who's slept with everyone at the hospital."
D looked about ready to tear Tony Harris's eyes out. And he took a few steps forward, possibly to do just that, when Madeline finally decided to add her two cents to the discussion.
"You know, I think there may be a way to end this without anyone losing any limbs," she said helpfully.
D turned to glare at her, but the glare lost a bit of it's thunder when he saw how disgustingly cheerful Vincent's assistant looked. As for Vincent, he swore softly when he saw that look on the younger woman's face.
"Out with it, Maddy. That look usually means you have mayhem brewing. No good ever comes of it," Vincent said, though he was smirking a little now. He figured that his Christmas present could be watching Madeline unleash her own special brand of destruction on his father.
"Mayhem? From a pretty thing like this?" Tony asked, his attention temporarily diverted from staring at D's non-existent breasts.
"Well," Madeline said, smiling sweetly. "He's very drunk. And he did come to a hospital of all places. That has to count as some kind of cry for help, doesn't it?"
The smirk that had been playing about Vincent's features started to turn into more of a grin. "So, what did you have in mind?"
"Well," Maddy said, as she wound her way towards the three men, "I'm sure that we have enough room to put him in detox, don't you, gentlemen?" And as she asked the question, she tapped Tony on the nose.
"Detox?!" Tony asked, looking distinctly less cheerful all of the sudden.
"Detox," Vincent said, almost in unison with D, as the two of them exchanged a nod.
Of course, that's about the time that Mary poked her head in, before being pushed aside by the bull nurse. The "bull nurse" had been working at the hospital since time out of mind, and was old, cranky, and built like a brick wall. She walked in, and glared at Tony Harris, before looking at Vincent.
"What's going on?" she demanded.
"Ah, Florence, how nice of you to arrive. You came just in time," the Count said smoothly. "Mr. Harris here needs to be admitted and placed in detox immediately. I can think of no other person that would be better for the job of escorting him to a room than you."
Florence looked at Tony impassively, before snorting, and grabbing his arm. "This way, Mr. Harris," she said. And with that, she more or less dragged him out of the room, despite any and all protest.
*~*~*
It was 1:57 am, Christmas day, the next time that Vincent actually stopped and looked at the clock.
His father was still in detox, and would be for at least the next 24 hours. Detox on Christmas: it really was a better Christmas present for his father than Vincent could have ever thought up by himself. On one hand, it would keep the sorry bastard off the streets and more or less all right. But on the other, it meant that he would be in closer contact with his father than he would like on Christmas. At least he could stay away from the detox area if he wanted to, and wouldn't have to put up with the man's moaning and inevitable withdrawal symptoms.
Vincent sighed, closing one of the Christmas cards that he'd gotten from his patients. The one he'd been looking at was from Sarah, his little sprouting dryad. Inside the card, pressed, had been a flower. The message inside had wished him a Merry Christmas, and said that the flower had been the first one that she'd bloomed, and she wanted him to have it.
"At this rate, I'm going to have an entire harem of girls if all of them that are supposedly in love with me grow up and attempt to marry me," Vincent mused, smiling slightly at the thought.
"When one considers your rather dubious ability to make pregnant women go into labor, Dr. Harris, the thought of you with a harem is really quite disturbing."
That thought came from D, who was standing in the doorway.
"Don't you have anywhere better to be on Christmas day than tormenting me, D?" Vincent teased, grinning a little.
"After the disturbance your family members caused around here less than 4 hours ago? Not really. Besides, I just got out of an emergency delivery perhaps twenty minutes ago," D said. And the face that accompanied that statement made it quite clear that D did not wish to discuss the matter any further.
"Yeah, I try to forget that I'm related to him. I don't need the reminder now that he's safely across the hospital and no longer my problem, thanks," Vincent said, making a face, before getting up and pouring himself a cup of coffee from the coffeepot he kept in the office just for nights such as these. "You want some?" he asked, looking over at D.
The kami paused, before nodding, and actually approaching Vincent's desk. "I suppose. Though I was under the impression that milk and cookies were more traditional this time of night on Christmas."
"Eh, maybe for a fat man who rides a sleigh. But caffeine trumps a sugar rush when you're pulling a double shift in the ER any day," Vincent said, snorting softly, and offering the second mug of coffee to D.
"With an attitude like that, someone is going to be getting coal in their stocking," D said, picking up his coffee and taking a sip.
Vincent snorted. "Coal would be preferable to dealing with my father."
"He is a rather beastly man, isn't he?" D asked.
Vincent sighed. "Look, I'm sorry you had to deal with that," he said. "I mean, I try to avoid the man. I hate when other people have to deal with him."
"I, unfortunately, know how you feel quite a bit better than I would care to," D said, making a slight face.
"At least your father doesn't come tearing into the hospital to try and drag you places," Vincent grumbled.
D wrinkled his nose. "Dr. Harris, that was a mental image that I definitely did not need."
"Merry Christmas, D," Vincent teased, grinning now.
"I'm beginning to think that even coal is too good for you," D groused. Though there was a slight smile playing across his features.
"Then what would you give me for Christmas, D?" Vincent asked. And while he was grinning, his eyes were surprisingly serious.
"Hmph. What makes you think that I'd give you anything?" the Count asked, looking at Vincent challengingly.
"You must have some reason for being here on Christmas at this time of night," Vincent said, as if it were obvious.
"And what do you think that I would possibly have for you, Dr. Harris?" D demanded, leaning over the desk to glare at Vincent.
"How bout a kiss?" Vincent asked, not missing a beat.
"A what?!" D asked, looking like he'd just been hit by a board.
"Well... you are right up in my face under the mistletoe," Vincent said, with a triumphant note in his voice. And then, before D had a chance to protest, Vincent closed the distance between them and caught the kami in a kiss.
D mmphed a bit in surprise. But before he could protest, the kiss was over, and Vincent had pulled back. D sputtered a little bit, trying to get his bearings, and staring at Vincent with a mixture of shock and confusion on his face.
"What was that?!" the Count demanded, eyes wide, as he glared at Vincent.
"A kiss. Calm down. It's not like I bent you over my desk or anything," Vincent said, grinning happily.
"I'm aware of what it was... but why on earth would you want to kiss me?!" D asked, looking at Vincent like he had three heads.
"You're gorgeous," Vincent said, shrugging. "And it's Christmas, and there was mistletoe. You know, tradition and all of that."
D sighed, looking at Vincent, his eyes unreadable. And when he spoke next, his voice was quiet. And troubled. "I've been down this road before, Dr. Harris."
"Not with me," Vincent said stubbornly. "Besides, D, it was just a kiss. I didn't ask you to move in with me or anything."
"Yet," D murmured, shaking his head. Something was bothering him about that kiss. And he couldn't quite place what it was.
"What's really bothering you, D? After all, if you'd minded that much, you probably would have tried to scratch my eyes out," Vincent pointed out.
The Count looked a bit startled. He was never so easy to read. And he looked at Vincent, for a few long moments, as if considering something. "I don't want you to attach any meaning to what I'm about to do, Dr. Harris," he said, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. And then, he walked around the desk, got into Vincent's personal space, and kissed the cynical young surgeon. Soundly.
Vincent made a surprised noise into the kiss. How the hell was he not supposed to attach meaning to this. Especially when D was willingly kissing him and currently trying to deepen it. Which Vincent let him do, even as he growled into the kiss a little, trailing his hands down the kami's back. As for D, he was surprised that Vincent ceded control of the kiss to him. And for a moment, despite the fact that Vincent tasted of some strange mix of nicotine and coffee, D let himself relax into it.
He doesn't kiss like Vesca, was the thought that flitted through D's mind, before he purred faintly into the kiss, his fingers twining in Vincent's short hair. And it was a few more minutes before he broke the kiss, pulling away and looking at Vincent. Who was now looking at D with a mixture of surprise and smugness on his face.
"Merry Christmas, Dr. Harris," the Count said, a small, pleased smile playing across his lips. And before Vincent had a chance to say anything, he turned and walked out of his office.
*~*~*
It was December 30th, and Vincent felt like he hadn't slept in at least 3 days. He knew that he'd probably been back to his apartment a grand total of one time in the last 72 hours. And he'd slept for maybe a couple of hours before his phone had rung, waking him. He might have ignored it too, if Charon hadn't decided to chomp down on his toes with greater-than-normal viciousness.
He'd just finished a surgery and was trying not to fall asleep while smoking. It was harder than one might think. Not to mention he had another pressing thing to do before he could curl up and attempt to get some sleep. He just had to stay awake long enough to find D.
"How many times must I tell you that smoking is a filthy habit?" D's voice came from behind him.
Well, speak of the devil... "Do you know why cigarettes were invented, D?" Vincent asked, in response to D's comment.
"No, but I'm sure you'll tell me," the Count said, rolling his eyes.
"Cigarettes were invented by coffee drinkers so that they could stay up longer and drink more coffee," Vincent supplied.
"So what's your excuse, Dr. Harris?" D asked, smirking faintly.
"I'm a coffee drinker out of necessity," Vincent said with a grin.
"I don't see any coffee."
"That's beside the point, D," Vincent said. "Though I'm glad you're here. I have something to ask you and this saves me the trouble of trying to find you."
"Something to ask me?" D asked.
"Yeah. I got reservations for dinner tomorrow night, and I was wondering if you'd like to come along," Vincent asked, off-handedly.
"Dinner. On New Year's Eve. With you. That sounds suspiciously like a date, Dr. Harris," D teased.
"And what if it is?" Vincent asked, looking over his shoulder at the kami.
"Will there be dancing afterwards too, in order to make this date properly cliché?" D asked, though he was, surprisingly, smiling.
"Nah. Not unless you like clubbing," Vincent said with a grin. "I'm afraid that's the only time I go dancing."
"Clubbing is just a euphemism for having sex on a dance floor to a beat," D said, wrinkling his nose.
"And?" Vincent asked grinning. And then he laughed at the withering glare of doom D was giving him. "Okay, we'll give clubbing a miss I guess. But will you go with me to dinner?"
D considered it for a few long moments before answering. "Well, I don't currently have any plans for tomorrow. I suppose I could spend at least part of the evening with you."
"Good. I'll pick you up at 7," Vincent said, flashing the Count a smile. "By the way... what have you been doing to the babies in the hospital?"
The way Vincent threw that question in there made it seem as if he was asking D what he thought about the weather as of late. But it was a question that for a split second made Count D go very very still before responding.
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about, Dr. Harris," he said, brushing off the question.
"I think you do," Vincent said. "I mean, giving newborns injections which don't go on their charts... for at least a month... well, I'm sure people would ask questions."
"It seems people are already asking questions if you're any thing to go by," the Count said dryly, though he was eyeing Vincent warily. And trying to push down the instinct to run. He needed to find out how much the young surgeon knew, and how much damage control he might have to do.
"I haven't told anyone about it yet, if that's what you're worried about. But it's been going on for at least a month. Possibly longer. Possibly since you've been here, I don't know. None of the charts of the babies you've delivered have mention of these injections. And generally, kids that young don't get vaccinations. But... the babies survive, so it's not anything lethal," Vincent said, considering it.
"What, exactly, are you driving at, Dr. Harris?" the Count asked coldly. "And if this is an attempt to blackmail me--"
"It's not," Vincent said, shaking his head. Then he tilted his head back and looked at the kami. "You remember that promise you made me. The promise to answer a question truthfully when I told you about my scars?"
D swore softly in Chinese. He remembered. He had been hoping that the young surgeon hadn't though. "Unfortunately, yes."
"Well, I'm calling it in," Vincent said, his eyes serious. "What are you injecting the babies with?"
For a few minutes, the Count was quiet. He was trying to figure out how to get out of answering Vincent's question, quite honestly. He remembered that Vincent's definition of important had been if the question had been about his past or reasoning. So maybe... "You know... that doesn't really fit with what I promised you, Dr. Harris," he said. It was worth a try.
Really, it was, but Vincent wasn't buying it. "The last month has been your past," Vincent pointed out, grinning a little. "And I daresay injecting babies with something that doesn't kill them when at one point you wanted to commit genocide of the whole human race says something about your reasoning as well." Yes, he remembered how he had defined important as well.
The Count sighed. "I suppose it's something of a different tactic," he finally said.
"What do you mean?" Vincent asked, his eyes narrowing.
"Perhaps death changes your perception of things," the kami said quietly, before finally sitting down next to Vincent. "I realized that even if I did wipe out humanity, ultimately, it wouldn't fix anything. The damage that humans had done to the earth would still be there. It got me thinking." He was quiet, trying to figure out how much to tell the young surgeon. How much he could tell him and answer the question without revealing everything. Was there a way to do that?
"And what conclusion did you reach?" Vincent asked when the silence had gone on a few moments too long.
Perhaps there wasn't a way to avoid telling Vincent everything. Or at least everything about the injections. But... if the young doctor hadn't told anyone yet, then he still might not if he knew the reason.
"Humans hurt this planet because they can't see what they're doing to it. I thought that perhaps if I could open their eyes, if they could learn to see things the way they really are, they might do something about it. They might change their actions and stop hurting the planet, the animals, everything. After meeting Leon Orcot and his brother... I realized that there were people who can see things the way they really are. I thought that if children grew up being able to see the true nature of things from a very young age, then they might be more careful about how they treat the world, about the choices they make. They might try to fix the damage," D explained, looking down at his hands.
Vincent was staring at him. "You still haven't answered the question," he said quietly.
"I'm a geneticist, remember?" D said, smiling, though there wasn't much humor in it. "I simply managed to target the gene, which is normally recessive by the way, that enables people to see things as they really are. The injections simply activate the gene."
Vincent was quiet for a few moments in the wake of that explanation. And then he smiled. "That's either completely brilliant or completely crazy," he said, something akin to awe in his voice.
"Nothing else has worked! This is the last thing I could think of," the Count said sadly. "And now... now you have the power to completely shut it down."
Vincent was quiet for a few long minutes. "I do, yeah. But what good would it do?" he asked, shrugging.
The Count stared at him like he had three heads. "What do you mean?"
"So I tell people. Number one, who's to say they'd believe me? Number two... it might be brilliant, or it might be crazy. Hell, it's probably both. But it's not hurting the kids. They'll grow up being able to see and talk to animals. They'll think it's normal. For them at least."
"You're very accepting of this idea," the Count said, looking at Vincent sideways.
"I've been talking to animals and seeing them since I was five," he said, dropping his now-forgotten (and burnt out) cigarette to the ground. "At best, it'll work and maybe the world will end up a little less fucked up in the end. At worst, it won't, and nothing will change." Vincent shrugged.
"You never fail to surprise me, Dr. Harris," D admitted. "Every time I think I understand you, you do something I wasn't expecting."
"Trust me, the feeling's mutual, D," Vincent said, getting to his feet. "Now I have rounds to do, and a patient to check on before I go home and try to sleep. Thankfully, I'm going to be off duty for the next day or two. I think the bull nurse is going to try and exile me from the hospital if I don't get some real sleep."
"Very well. I will see you tomorrow then?" the Count asked, watching Vincent.
"Yeah. I'll pick you up at 7," he said, flashing D a grin, before heading into the hospital. It looked like it was going to be a happy new year after all.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6