Same Words, Different Situation - Chapter 8
It's been awhile, but I finally have another update! This is being done from Italy, and I'm almost out of time, so forgive any errors.
Title: Same Words, Different Situation, Part 8
Fandom: Petshop of Horrors
Rating: R
Archive: Ask and ye shall be as gods receive
Warning: Lots of profanity, flashbacks, reincarnation, possible errors about certain medical professions, implied gay sex (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
"Charon... get that," Vincent muttered into his pillow when the phone started ringing on New Year's Day.
He was hungover. The drinking last night had been epic. And he was fairly sure that he'd talked D into going clubbing with him after they'd both had a bit too much to drink. And now? Now the phone was still ringing. Or at least it was until there was an angry hiss of Chinese and a hand with long painted fingernails reached out, grabbed the phone, and hurled it across the room.
It looked like D was hungover too. And trying to block out the light if the way his head was buried against Vincent's chest was any indication.
"D, I needed that cell phone," Vincent muttered.
"I'll get you another," the Count offered, making no effort to move.
That was about when it registered for Vincent's hungover brain that D had spent the night, and was curled up with him. And they were both naked. Which raised the inevitable question that always came up in situations like these: Namely had he and D had sex last night? It was an important question, and one he would like to be able to answer on his own. After all, if he had to ask D, the results would be catastrophic.
So what had happened last night? That was the question that Vincent tried to answer as he tried to pull the memories from his hungover brain. He remembered picking D up and teasing him about his pretty dress. No, not a dress, he corrected himself. D called it a cheongsam. Which still sounded to Vincent like something that should be on a Chinese food menu, maybe right under the eggrolls.
He hated how fucking tangential he could get when he was hungover. He remembered dinner, and then bits and pieces of clubbing. D pressed against him, and kissing, oh god, he couldn't forget the kissing. And then... an argument that was half Chinese, half English, and all breathless since they were having it between kisses on the way back to his place in the back seat of a cab. What came next was spotty. He remembered trailing his hands first over D's dress, then through his hair. His hair was softer than the fabric, Vincent thought hazily. D's hair... he remembered that, and how it had fallen down around him almost like some kind of waterfall.
Hisses of Chinese, a tight heat around him, moaning... the air smelling hot and sticky... Oh yeah. They'd had sex last night. And Vincent didn't know about D but he was certainly was too hungover to remember the details.
"Hell," he groaned, closing his eyes.
"That's a remarkable assessment of the present situation, Dr. Harris," the Count grumbled. "I don't suppose you have anything more constructive to add, like water or aspirin or the like?"
"That would require moving. And with as hungover as I am if I moved, I'd probably throw up."
"How very romantic," the Count sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Some of the effect was lost though, because he still had his head buried against Vincent's chest. "Do remind me never to agree to accompany you anywhere again, Dr. Harris."
Vincent would have replied, but the phone started merrily ringing from its place on the floor where it had landed after being hurled by D.
"Shit," Vincent groaned. "D, I should get that. It's probably the hospital," he said when D's grip on him tightened.
"They'll call back," the Count growled.
"And I'll lose my residency. No thanks," Vincent growled, and he got out of bed and stalked over to where the phone was, answering it just before it stopped ringing.
"Harris."
"Happy New Year Vinny!" Tony caroled from the other end of the line.
Vincent groaned, Tony hitting the exact wrong volume, and making his already-throbbing head hurt even more.
"What do you want, Dad?" Vincent asked, ignoring the withering glare of doom that the Count was giving him from the bed.
"Someone sounds hungover!" Tony proclaimed cheerfully. "Out celebrating last night? Did you get lucky with that pretty lady you work with?"
"Pretty lady?" Vincent asked, not quite knowing what his father was talking about.
"You know, the one I met on Christmas Eve!"
"D? Dad, D's not--"
"Is she there?" Tony asked, eagerly.
Vincent sighed. D was there all right. And he looked about ready to come over and snatch the phone away.
"Dad, what is the point of you calling?"
"Well, I figured you and I could have lunch together. So! You have about ten minutes to make yourself presentable, because I'm on my way over as we speak," Tony said, and Vincent could almost hear the shit-eating grin in the older man's voice.
"Dad, that's really not a good--"
But then he was talking to a dead line, as Tony had hung up.
"Shit," Vincent said eloquently, before dropping the phone back onto the floor unceremoniously.
"I'm torn between asking what all that was about and steadfastly not wanting to know," the Count said once Vincent had dropped the phone.
"My father's coming over for lunch in ten minutes," Vincent said. "The man doesn't realize that he's going to totally fucking ruin what was turning out to be a relatively good beginning to the new year.
The Count looked at Vincent sideways before a decidedly evil smile slowly crept across his face.
"I'll handle it, Dr. Harris. I suggest you should get dressed."
"And what about you?" Vincent demanded.
"I told you. I'll handle this. You should hurry. We only have 10 minutes, after all."
Vincent groaned. "Can't I just call the cops on the man for harassment or some shit like that?"
"In due time, Dr. Harris," D promised, flashing Vincent a smile. "Now get presentable."
Vincent scrambled around making himself presentable and trying not to think about D's diabolical plan to break his father's brain, whatever those details were. As it was, there was a knock on his door fifteen minutes later. His father was late, but Vincent wasn't going to quibble over five lousy minutes. Vincent got to the door a few seconds after D, who was, Vincent noted, still totally naked.
"D, what are you doing?!" Vincent hissed feeling something akin to panic rise up in him when he saw D's hand on the door knob.
"Simply scaring away unwelcome guests, Dr. Harris," the Count said as if it was obvious. And then he opened the door.
Tony Harris gaped like a stranded fish when he saw a very naked, very male D answer his son's door. Especially since D bore a striking resemblance to the "lady" that Tony had been hitting on on Christmas Eve. The stranded fish look didn't abate any when Vincent walked up behind D and the kami proceeded to wrap himself around Vincent and started whispering the dirtiest things in the young doctor's ear in Chinese.
"Hi Dad," Vincent said, trying to ignore D and finally breaking the very uncomfortable silence.
Tony opened and closed his mouth but it was still a few moments before any sound came out and even longer before the sound turned into actual words.
"Vinny, what the fuck is going on here?!" Tony demanded.
"Um... D was about to make me breakfast in bed?" Vincent offered, ignoring D's murmuring something about chocolate sauce in Chinese against his neck.
"Christ, why didn't you tell me that she was a guy?!" Tony demanded, pointing at D.
"Well, you did seem quite happy with your delusions, Dad," Vincent said, grinning.
"Hell. We are not talking about this right now. I'm leaving. You have fun with your freak show Chinese mail-order bride or whatever," he growled before stalking out.
"That went well," Vincent said, closing the door behind his father. "So... do we actually get to try some of the things you were talking about?" he asked after a moment or two, looking at D sideways.
"You understand Chinese?" the Count asked, blinking in surprise.
"I understand a lot of languages," Vincent said, flashing D a winning smile.
"I do wish that you'd mentioned that before, Dr. Harris," D muttered.
"I think after last night we're on a first name basis."
"Whatever you say, Dr. Harris," D said, ignoring the eye roll he got from Vincent.
"Do you want me to lend you some clothes or are you going to lounge around my apartment naked all day? Not that I'd mind," Vincent said, leering at D a little mostly because he could.
"Do try not to get your hope too high, Dr. Harris. I'm going to take a shower. Clothes and breakfast would be appreciated," the Count said, before sweeping into the bathroom.
Vincent just shook his head, though he was smiling a little. Maybe this would turn out to be a happy new year after all.
*~*~*
For the next four months, it looked like Vincent was right about it being a happy new year. Life went on, much the way it always did, but in some ways, things could be said to be better than normal.
His father, for example, was having nothing to do with his "creepy gay son." Some people might have been hurt or upset by this, but it was fine with Vincent. It meant no more phone calls at stupid o'clock from his father to mock him about his choice of profession or to ask for money. It meant Tony wasn't showing up at his hospital and making a scene, before getting unceremoniously deposited in detox. But most of all, it meant that Vincent didn't have to deal with his father. And it was one less headache he had to worry about on top of his already full schedule.
Vincent still seemed to be getting all the weird shit thrown at him at the hospital, on top of the normal shit. D had started hauling Vincent on his rounds of just-about-to-pop moms, in order to see if Vincent's ever-dubious talent to make pregnant women go into labor would work on them. D claimed that it saved the time and effort of inducing labor in a countless number of patients, but Vincent wasn't sure he believed that.
Then there was Vincent and D. Vincent noticed that they were getting closer. Maybe even serious, though the thought of it being serious was weird for Vincent. If he had to say what was different about him and D, as opposed to some of the other people that he'd dated, it was in the little things.
For example, Vincent tried to learn to cook vegetarian food for D's sake. The endeavors almost always ended in disaster, and Vincent would throw out the attempts (for not even Charon would deign to go near them) and order them pizza. After the fifth or so time this happened, D started teasing Vincent about trying to fatten him up. Vincent just scowled, said that D could get off his ass and cook for them, and stalked out to the balcony to smoke. And they'd ended up having pizza anyway in the end.
It was things like D herding Vincent home, especially when the young surgeon was about to head into the 25th hour of a twenty-four hour shift. It meant Charon was happier with him and didn't try to eat his toes quite as much as she used to because he was home more. It meant that Vincent wasn't spending days at the hospital. It meant that if they weren't working the same shift, that at least five days out of seven, D would be waiting for Vincent at his apartment. Vincent would usually still have to deal with getting dinner, but sometimes D would have taken care of that.
It was stupid shit, like D curling up on the couch with Vincent and snarking at the James bond movie (or any movie really) while Vincent watched it. But D would watch it too, even if he snarked through the entire thing. Or it was the fact that plants and fish tanks ended up in Vincent's apartment. And the stupid fights that would occur when Charon inevitably tried to eat the plants or fish, and Vincent just laughing and doing nothing to stop her. It was the fact that D was practically living with him, and Vincent feeling strange when D wasn't around.
It wasn't even about the sex, though that was there, and it was rather good. It was more in little things, like the scowling D would do when Maddy would go on about how cute Vincent and D were. Even if Vincent did want to throttle his too-perky assistant sometimes.
For four months, things were fine. Winter edged into spring, and summer was quickly on its way. Things were peaceful, almost to the point of being a happily ever after (which Vincent didn't believe in; he thought they were nothing more than pretty lies). But then, one day in late May, all of that changed.
*~*~*
Vincent knew it was going to be a bad day from the moment he got to work. For starters, he was more sleep deprived than he had been recently. Though he had a feeling that that was because D had been surprisingly absent from the apartment for over five days. It wasn't normal when compared to his behavior as of late. The kami had been relatively sparse around the hospital as well. Vincent had a nagging feeling that something bad was going to happen soon. He was trying to ignore it, if only because those kinds of feelings were usually right.
So, he was sleep deprived, his cat was hating him, he had the feeling that something bad was lurking just over the horizon, and to top it all off, he was out of cigarettes. He'd just finished his last one before heading to work that morning, and he'd been running late, so he'd had no time to stop and get more. This was a really bad day to end up being nicotine deprived, and with Vincent's luck, it was just going to get worse.
Worse, of course, began with his caseload. He had been assigned to operate on Mr. Janowski. Mr. Janowski was a man with Peyronie's disease, which was rare, and caused Vincent to groan as soon as he saw the file.
"How the hell did I get assigned a surgery like this?" he grumbled when Madeline came into his office, even as he slid the file across the desk for her.
"What's Peyronie's disease?" she asked, blinking. Then she started to giggle when she saw the case description. Vincent just shot her a dirty look.
"What are you, Maddy, twelve? Seriously, this is a job for a urologist or a plastic surgeon. Not me."
"Well, you're a general surgeon," Madeline said, grinning. "And that means they expect you to do a little bit of everything, Vince," she teased. "Including, it seems, fixing Mr. Janowski's problem. Though if it's any consolation, this is a method of last resort for him. Nothing else has worked."
Vincent just grumbled. "Christ. This is the kind of shit that drives me to smoke."
"So why don't you go have your morning cancer stick or something before going on your rounds? You seem grumpier than normal," Madeline said.
"Can't. I'm out of cigarettes. I smoked the last one this morning. And you know the entire staff frowns upon me keeping extras around the hospital. And I was running late after I more or less slept through my alarm. Then I had to spend the time I could have spent getting cigarettes doing things like trying to stitch up my toe after Charon bit me hard enough to almost take it off," Vincent growled. "I loathe my cat some days."
"Man, and D wasn't around to shoo you out of bed?" Maddy asked, looking slightly confused."
"D hasn't been around my place for nearly a week. I don't know what the fuck is going on with him. But my calls are going unanswered, and I've barely seen him around here either. I don't know if I did something and pissed him off or what the fuck is up with him. I can't be too worried about it though. I have other shit to worry about, like this insane surgery, my psycho cat trying to eat me, and my crazy old roommates from med school sending me letters," Vincent said, sighing softly.
"Letters?"
"Long story short, my old roommate wants to quit his job with the super-advanced medical organization he's working for, leave yuppyville, and come out here to work at chronically understaffed, chronically underfunded St. Rita's. I haven't answered his letter yet. I haven't had time," Vincent said, shaking his head. Really, some days he hated getting mail from Derek Stiles.
"Why would he want to come here?" Madeline asked. "I mean, there are doctors who go out of their way to avoid coming here."
"Who knows? I never understood him. I don't ever think that I fucking will," Vincent said, rolling his eyes.
Madeline was about to respond when one of the nurses from the ER, Jenny, came running into his office.
"Dr. Harris! A little girl just got brought into the ER by her mother. Both of them are a mess. And both of them are asking for you by name," Jenny said, looking harried.
"What?" Vincent asked, getting up.
"She says you saw her before. That you helped her when she was sprouting, whatever that means," Jenny explained.
"Shit," Vincent swore. "Maddy, you go and see if you can get that surgery for Mr. Janowski either rescheduled or reassigned. Then you come meet me. I need to take care of this," he said, rushing down to the ER without giving Madeline a chance to argue.
He didn't stop til he got to Sarah and her mother. The little girl looked... wilted. Not at all as healthy as she looked the last time she was here. She was wearing a sleeveless top and most of the leaves and such were dried up and shriveled. Only a few still looked healthy.
"Dr. Harris..." Sarah sniffled.
"Sarah... what the hell happened?" Vincent asked, kneeling down in front of the girl.
"Her father wanted a second opinion. So... he took her to Columbia General," Sarah's mother supplied. "They removed one of the growths that they said were malignant tumors. And this happened." The older woman was sniffling too. "I didn't want him to. I tried to stop him. I just--"
"It's all right. I'll do everything I can for her," Vincent said, trying to sound reassuring. "I'm gonna have to get her admitted right away, and run a few tests. Nothing invasive though, I promise." He looked at the girl then, before brushing her hair out of her eyes. "I'm gonna do everything I can. I'll try and make you better. I promise, Sarah."
"Okay," she said, sniffling a little. "You can fix me, right? I'll even let Dr. Maddy put Miracle-Gro in my IV if it will help!" Sarah hugged him then, tightly, as if she was afraid of what would happen if she let him go.
"I'll do the very best I can," Vincent swore. I won't let you die, he thought fiercely. Not like Emma Jean. Not when you were perfectly healthy and those idiots at Columbia General fucked it all up. He hugged her tightly then, before kissing her forehead. "I gotta get you admitted, Sarah. Just hold tight for a few moments, all right?"
"Okay," Sarah sniffled, before nodding.
Vincent got to his feet. Then he stormed into the back of the ER barking orders.
"All right, there's a little girl in there. Her name's Sarah. I need her admitted, right fucking now, to the pediatric ICU. No questions asked, just do it! Her mother's with her, and she needs to come along too. If the little one's deadbeat bastard of a father shows up, call the police or security, and kick him the fuck out!" Vincent growled.
The ER staff got moving, used to this language from Vincent. And he stalked out towards the neonatal ward to try and find D. Because if anyone would know what the hell was going on with Sarah, it would be D. Hell, D would probably know what was going on with Sarah without any tests being done. And what could be done to save her.
Unfortunately, it wasn't D that Vincent found in his irritated quest towards the neonatal ward. It was the bull nurse.
"What are you doing, Harris?" the bull nurse demanded. "There are people trying to rest and recover around here."
"I know. Look, have you seen Dr. D?" he asked, not wanting to pick a fight with the perpetually cranky bull nurse. He didn't like picking fights he would lose. And she could probably beat him in a fight. It would suck.
For the first time since he'd known her, the bull nurse looked surprised. "You didn't hear?" she asked, her eyebrows raising.
"Hear what?" Vincent asked, not in the mood for guessing games.
"Dr. D turned in his resignation yesterday," the bull nurse said.
"No... I didn't hear," Vincent muttered, feeling like the floor had just been pulled out from under him. "Shit. Thanks," he said, shaking his head, before wandering off to check on Sarah's situation.
They were still in the process of getting her a bed. And Vincent figured that would take some more time, so he headed out towards the loading dock to smoke. Only to curse when he remembered that he was out of cigarettes. Which is where he was when Madeline found him, cursing up a blue streak.
"What's wrong?" she asked hesitantly. Usually Vincent only saved strings of invective like that for particularly bad situations.
"Do you want a fucking alphabetized list?" Vincent growled.
"Starting at the beginning's usually the best place to start," Maddy suggested.
"Let's see... I'm sleep deprived, my cat tried to eat me, I'm getting letters from my crazy college roommate, the fucking bastards at Columbia General may have killed Sarah, and to top it all off, D resigned. Which explains why he hasn't been around my place in the last week or so," Vincent growled, listing each point on his fingers. "Which means he's going to run or something."
He started to pace then, before hopping off the loading dock. "I need twenty minutes. Cover me?"
"Are you going to try and find D?" Maddy asked incredulously.
"What? Fuck no. I have to many other things to worry about to go chasing after him. Especially since I have no fucking clue where he decided to run off to," Vincent growled, shaking his head. "No, I'm going to go down to the 7-11 down the street and get some fucking cigarettes. It's the only way I'm going to be able to get through the rest of today."
He didn't give her a chance to respond before he stalked off towards the convenience store. His nagging feeling about something bad happening had come true. And if bad things came in threes, well between running out of cigarettes on a day like today, D leaving, and what happened to Sarah, he was done with his share of bad luck for at least a year. Though with D gone, at least he could smoke in peace.
That thought, however, offered very little in the way of consolation. But it would have to do.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Title: Same Words, Different Situation, Part 8
Fandom: Petshop of Horrors
Rating: R
Archive: Ask and ye shall be as gods receive
Warning: Lots of profanity, flashbacks, reincarnation, possible errors about certain medical professions, implied gay sex (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
"Charon... get that," Vincent muttered into his pillow when the phone started ringing on New Year's Day.
He was hungover. The drinking last night had been epic. And he was fairly sure that he'd talked D into going clubbing with him after they'd both had a bit too much to drink. And now? Now the phone was still ringing. Or at least it was until there was an angry hiss of Chinese and a hand with long painted fingernails reached out, grabbed the phone, and hurled it across the room.
It looked like D was hungover too. And trying to block out the light if the way his head was buried against Vincent's chest was any indication.
"D, I needed that cell phone," Vincent muttered.
"I'll get you another," the Count offered, making no effort to move.
That was about when it registered for Vincent's hungover brain that D had spent the night, and was curled up with him. And they were both naked. Which raised the inevitable question that always came up in situations like these: Namely had he and D had sex last night? It was an important question, and one he would like to be able to answer on his own. After all, if he had to ask D, the results would be catastrophic.
So what had happened last night? That was the question that Vincent tried to answer as he tried to pull the memories from his hungover brain. He remembered picking D up and teasing him about his pretty dress. No, not a dress, he corrected himself. D called it a cheongsam. Which still sounded to Vincent like something that should be on a Chinese food menu, maybe right under the eggrolls.
He hated how fucking tangential he could get when he was hungover. He remembered dinner, and then bits and pieces of clubbing. D pressed against him, and kissing, oh god, he couldn't forget the kissing. And then... an argument that was half Chinese, half English, and all breathless since they were having it between kisses on the way back to his place in the back seat of a cab. What came next was spotty. He remembered trailing his hands first over D's dress, then through his hair. His hair was softer than the fabric, Vincent thought hazily. D's hair... he remembered that, and how it had fallen down around him almost like some kind of waterfall.
Hisses of Chinese, a tight heat around him, moaning... the air smelling hot and sticky... Oh yeah. They'd had sex last night. And Vincent didn't know about D but he was certainly was too hungover to remember the details.
"Hell," he groaned, closing his eyes.
"That's a remarkable assessment of the present situation, Dr. Harris," the Count grumbled. "I don't suppose you have anything more constructive to add, like water or aspirin or the like?"
"That would require moving. And with as hungover as I am if I moved, I'd probably throw up."
"How very romantic," the Count sneered, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Some of the effect was lost though, because he still had his head buried against Vincent's chest. "Do remind me never to agree to accompany you anywhere again, Dr. Harris."
Vincent would have replied, but the phone started merrily ringing from its place on the floor where it had landed after being hurled by D.
"Shit," Vincent groaned. "D, I should get that. It's probably the hospital," he said when D's grip on him tightened.
"They'll call back," the Count growled.
"And I'll lose my residency. No thanks," Vincent growled, and he got out of bed and stalked over to where the phone was, answering it just before it stopped ringing.
"Harris."
"Happy New Year Vinny!" Tony caroled from the other end of the line.
Vincent groaned, Tony hitting the exact wrong volume, and making his already-throbbing head hurt even more.
"What do you want, Dad?" Vincent asked, ignoring the withering glare of doom that the Count was giving him from the bed.
"Someone sounds hungover!" Tony proclaimed cheerfully. "Out celebrating last night? Did you get lucky with that pretty lady you work with?"
"Pretty lady?" Vincent asked, not quite knowing what his father was talking about.
"You know, the one I met on Christmas Eve!"
"D? Dad, D's not--"
"Is she there?" Tony asked, eagerly.
Vincent sighed. D was there all right. And he looked about ready to come over and snatch the phone away.
"Dad, what is the point of you calling?"
"Well, I figured you and I could have lunch together. So! You have about ten minutes to make yourself presentable, because I'm on my way over as we speak," Tony said, and Vincent could almost hear the shit-eating grin in the older man's voice.
"Dad, that's really not a good--"
But then he was talking to a dead line, as Tony had hung up.
"Shit," Vincent said eloquently, before dropping the phone back onto the floor unceremoniously.
"I'm torn between asking what all that was about and steadfastly not wanting to know," the Count said once Vincent had dropped the phone.
"My father's coming over for lunch in ten minutes," Vincent said. "The man doesn't realize that he's going to totally fucking ruin what was turning out to be a relatively good beginning to the new year.
The Count looked at Vincent sideways before a decidedly evil smile slowly crept across his face.
"I'll handle it, Dr. Harris. I suggest you should get dressed."
"And what about you?" Vincent demanded.
"I told you. I'll handle this. You should hurry. We only have 10 minutes, after all."
Vincent groaned. "Can't I just call the cops on the man for harassment or some shit like that?"
"In due time, Dr. Harris," D promised, flashing Vincent a smile. "Now get presentable."
Vincent scrambled around making himself presentable and trying not to think about D's diabolical plan to break his father's brain, whatever those details were. As it was, there was a knock on his door fifteen minutes later. His father was late, but Vincent wasn't going to quibble over five lousy minutes. Vincent got to the door a few seconds after D, who was, Vincent noted, still totally naked.
"D, what are you doing?!" Vincent hissed feeling something akin to panic rise up in him when he saw D's hand on the door knob.
"Simply scaring away unwelcome guests, Dr. Harris," the Count said as if it was obvious. And then he opened the door.
Tony Harris gaped like a stranded fish when he saw a very naked, very male D answer his son's door. Especially since D bore a striking resemblance to the "lady" that Tony had been hitting on on Christmas Eve. The stranded fish look didn't abate any when Vincent walked up behind D and the kami proceeded to wrap himself around Vincent and started whispering the dirtiest things in the young doctor's ear in Chinese.
"Hi Dad," Vincent said, trying to ignore D and finally breaking the very uncomfortable silence.
Tony opened and closed his mouth but it was still a few moments before any sound came out and even longer before the sound turned into actual words.
"Vinny, what the fuck is going on here?!" Tony demanded.
"Um... D was about to make me breakfast in bed?" Vincent offered, ignoring D's murmuring something about chocolate sauce in Chinese against his neck.
"Christ, why didn't you tell me that she was a guy?!" Tony demanded, pointing at D.
"Well, you did seem quite happy with your delusions, Dad," Vincent said, grinning.
"Hell. We are not talking about this right now. I'm leaving. You have fun with your freak show Chinese mail-order bride or whatever," he growled before stalking out.
"That went well," Vincent said, closing the door behind his father. "So... do we actually get to try some of the things you were talking about?" he asked after a moment or two, looking at D sideways.
"You understand Chinese?" the Count asked, blinking in surprise.
"I understand a lot of languages," Vincent said, flashing D a winning smile.
"I do wish that you'd mentioned that before, Dr. Harris," D muttered.
"I think after last night we're on a first name basis."
"Whatever you say, Dr. Harris," D said, ignoring the eye roll he got from Vincent.
"Do you want me to lend you some clothes or are you going to lounge around my apartment naked all day? Not that I'd mind," Vincent said, leering at D a little mostly because he could.
"Do try not to get your hope too high, Dr. Harris. I'm going to take a shower. Clothes and breakfast would be appreciated," the Count said, before sweeping into the bathroom.
Vincent just shook his head, though he was smiling a little. Maybe this would turn out to be a happy new year after all.
*~*~*
For the next four months, it looked like Vincent was right about it being a happy new year. Life went on, much the way it always did, but in some ways, things could be said to be better than normal.
His father, for example, was having nothing to do with his "creepy gay son." Some people might have been hurt or upset by this, but it was fine with Vincent. It meant no more phone calls at stupid o'clock from his father to mock him about his choice of profession or to ask for money. It meant Tony wasn't showing up at his hospital and making a scene, before getting unceremoniously deposited in detox. But most of all, it meant that Vincent didn't have to deal with his father. And it was one less headache he had to worry about on top of his already full schedule.
Vincent still seemed to be getting all the weird shit thrown at him at the hospital, on top of the normal shit. D had started hauling Vincent on his rounds of just-about-to-pop moms, in order to see if Vincent's ever-dubious talent to make pregnant women go into labor would work on them. D claimed that it saved the time and effort of inducing labor in a countless number of patients, but Vincent wasn't sure he believed that.
Then there was Vincent and D. Vincent noticed that they were getting closer. Maybe even serious, though the thought of it being serious was weird for Vincent. If he had to say what was different about him and D, as opposed to some of the other people that he'd dated, it was in the little things.
For example, Vincent tried to learn to cook vegetarian food for D's sake. The endeavors almost always ended in disaster, and Vincent would throw out the attempts (for not even Charon would deign to go near them) and order them pizza. After the fifth or so time this happened, D started teasing Vincent about trying to fatten him up. Vincent just scowled, said that D could get off his ass and cook for them, and stalked out to the balcony to smoke. And they'd ended up having pizza anyway in the end.
It was things like D herding Vincent home, especially when the young surgeon was about to head into the 25th hour of a twenty-four hour shift. It meant Charon was happier with him and didn't try to eat his toes quite as much as she used to because he was home more. It meant that Vincent wasn't spending days at the hospital. It meant that if they weren't working the same shift, that at least five days out of seven, D would be waiting for Vincent at his apartment. Vincent would usually still have to deal with getting dinner, but sometimes D would have taken care of that.
It was stupid shit, like D curling up on the couch with Vincent and snarking at the James bond movie (or any movie really) while Vincent watched it. But D would watch it too, even if he snarked through the entire thing. Or it was the fact that plants and fish tanks ended up in Vincent's apartment. And the stupid fights that would occur when Charon inevitably tried to eat the plants or fish, and Vincent just laughing and doing nothing to stop her. It was the fact that D was practically living with him, and Vincent feeling strange when D wasn't around.
It wasn't even about the sex, though that was there, and it was rather good. It was more in little things, like the scowling D would do when Maddy would go on about how cute Vincent and D were. Even if Vincent did want to throttle his too-perky assistant sometimes.
For four months, things were fine. Winter edged into spring, and summer was quickly on its way. Things were peaceful, almost to the point of being a happily ever after (which Vincent didn't believe in; he thought they were nothing more than pretty lies). But then, one day in late May, all of that changed.
*~*~*
Vincent knew it was going to be a bad day from the moment he got to work. For starters, he was more sleep deprived than he had been recently. Though he had a feeling that that was because D had been surprisingly absent from the apartment for over five days. It wasn't normal when compared to his behavior as of late. The kami had been relatively sparse around the hospital as well. Vincent had a nagging feeling that something bad was going to happen soon. He was trying to ignore it, if only because those kinds of feelings were usually right.
So, he was sleep deprived, his cat was hating him, he had the feeling that something bad was lurking just over the horizon, and to top it all off, he was out of cigarettes. He'd just finished his last one before heading to work that morning, and he'd been running late, so he'd had no time to stop and get more. This was a really bad day to end up being nicotine deprived, and with Vincent's luck, it was just going to get worse.
Worse, of course, began with his caseload. He had been assigned to operate on Mr. Janowski. Mr. Janowski was a man with Peyronie's disease, which was rare, and caused Vincent to groan as soon as he saw the file.
"How the hell did I get assigned a surgery like this?" he grumbled when Madeline came into his office, even as he slid the file across the desk for her.
"What's Peyronie's disease?" she asked, blinking. Then she started to giggle when she saw the case description. Vincent just shot her a dirty look.
"What are you, Maddy, twelve? Seriously, this is a job for a urologist or a plastic surgeon. Not me."
"Well, you're a general surgeon," Madeline said, grinning. "And that means they expect you to do a little bit of everything, Vince," she teased. "Including, it seems, fixing Mr. Janowski's problem. Though if it's any consolation, this is a method of last resort for him. Nothing else has worked."
Vincent just grumbled. "Christ. This is the kind of shit that drives me to smoke."
"So why don't you go have your morning cancer stick or something before going on your rounds? You seem grumpier than normal," Madeline said.
"Can't. I'm out of cigarettes. I smoked the last one this morning. And you know the entire staff frowns upon me keeping extras around the hospital. And I was running late after I more or less slept through my alarm. Then I had to spend the time I could have spent getting cigarettes doing things like trying to stitch up my toe after Charon bit me hard enough to almost take it off," Vincent growled. "I loathe my cat some days."
"Man, and D wasn't around to shoo you out of bed?" Maddy asked, looking slightly confused."
"D hasn't been around my place for nearly a week. I don't know what the fuck is going on with him. But my calls are going unanswered, and I've barely seen him around here either. I don't know if I did something and pissed him off or what the fuck is up with him. I can't be too worried about it though. I have other shit to worry about, like this insane surgery, my psycho cat trying to eat me, and my crazy old roommates from med school sending me letters," Vincent said, sighing softly.
"Letters?"
"Long story short, my old roommate wants to quit his job with the super-advanced medical organization he's working for, leave yuppyville, and come out here to work at chronically understaffed, chronically underfunded St. Rita's. I haven't answered his letter yet. I haven't had time," Vincent said, shaking his head. Really, some days he hated getting mail from Derek Stiles.
"Why would he want to come here?" Madeline asked. "I mean, there are doctors who go out of their way to avoid coming here."
"Who knows? I never understood him. I don't ever think that I fucking will," Vincent said, rolling his eyes.
Madeline was about to respond when one of the nurses from the ER, Jenny, came running into his office.
"Dr. Harris! A little girl just got brought into the ER by her mother. Both of them are a mess. And both of them are asking for you by name," Jenny said, looking harried.
"What?" Vincent asked, getting up.
"She says you saw her before. That you helped her when she was sprouting, whatever that means," Jenny explained.
"Shit," Vincent swore. "Maddy, you go and see if you can get that surgery for Mr. Janowski either rescheduled or reassigned. Then you come meet me. I need to take care of this," he said, rushing down to the ER without giving Madeline a chance to argue.
He didn't stop til he got to Sarah and her mother. The little girl looked... wilted. Not at all as healthy as she looked the last time she was here. She was wearing a sleeveless top and most of the leaves and such were dried up and shriveled. Only a few still looked healthy.
"Dr. Harris..." Sarah sniffled.
"Sarah... what the hell happened?" Vincent asked, kneeling down in front of the girl.
"Her father wanted a second opinion. So... he took her to Columbia General," Sarah's mother supplied. "They removed one of the growths that they said were malignant tumors. And this happened." The older woman was sniffling too. "I didn't want him to. I tried to stop him. I just--"
"It's all right. I'll do everything I can for her," Vincent said, trying to sound reassuring. "I'm gonna have to get her admitted right away, and run a few tests. Nothing invasive though, I promise." He looked at the girl then, before brushing her hair out of her eyes. "I'm gonna do everything I can. I'll try and make you better. I promise, Sarah."
"Okay," she said, sniffling a little. "You can fix me, right? I'll even let Dr. Maddy put Miracle-Gro in my IV if it will help!" Sarah hugged him then, tightly, as if she was afraid of what would happen if she let him go.
"I'll do the very best I can," Vincent swore. I won't let you die, he thought fiercely. Not like Emma Jean. Not when you were perfectly healthy and those idiots at Columbia General fucked it all up. He hugged her tightly then, before kissing her forehead. "I gotta get you admitted, Sarah. Just hold tight for a few moments, all right?"
"Okay," Sarah sniffled, before nodding.
Vincent got to his feet. Then he stormed into the back of the ER barking orders.
"All right, there's a little girl in there. Her name's Sarah. I need her admitted, right fucking now, to the pediatric ICU. No questions asked, just do it! Her mother's with her, and she needs to come along too. If the little one's deadbeat bastard of a father shows up, call the police or security, and kick him the fuck out!" Vincent growled.
The ER staff got moving, used to this language from Vincent. And he stalked out towards the neonatal ward to try and find D. Because if anyone would know what the hell was going on with Sarah, it would be D. Hell, D would probably know what was going on with Sarah without any tests being done. And what could be done to save her.
Unfortunately, it wasn't D that Vincent found in his irritated quest towards the neonatal ward. It was the bull nurse.
"What are you doing, Harris?" the bull nurse demanded. "There are people trying to rest and recover around here."
"I know. Look, have you seen Dr. D?" he asked, not wanting to pick a fight with the perpetually cranky bull nurse. He didn't like picking fights he would lose. And she could probably beat him in a fight. It would suck.
For the first time since he'd known her, the bull nurse looked surprised. "You didn't hear?" she asked, her eyebrows raising.
"Hear what?" Vincent asked, not in the mood for guessing games.
"Dr. D turned in his resignation yesterday," the bull nurse said.
"No... I didn't hear," Vincent muttered, feeling like the floor had just been pulled out from under him. "Shit. Thanks," he said, shaking his head, before wandering off to check on Sarah's situation.
They were still in the process of getting her a bed. And Vincent figured that would take some more time, so he headed out towards the loading dock to smoke. Only to curse when he remembered that he was out of cigarettes. Which is where he was when Madeline found him, cursing up a blue streak.
"What's wrong?" she asked hesitantly. Usually Vincent only saved strings of invective like that for particularly bad situations.
"Do you want a fucking alphabetized list?" Vincent growled.
"Starting at the beginning's usually the best place to start," Maddy suggested.
"Let's see... I'm sleep deprived, my cat tried to eat me, I'm getting letters from my crazy college roommate, the fucking bastards at Columbia General may have killed Sarah, and to top it all off, D resigned. Which explains why he hasn't been around my place in the last week or so," Vincent growled, listing each point on his fingers. "Which means he's going to run or something."
He started to pace then, before hopping off the loading dock. "I need twenty minutes. Cover me?"
"Are you going to try and find D?" Maddy asked incredulously.
"What? Fuck no. I have to many other things to worry about to go chasing after him. Especially since I have no fucking clue where he decided to run off to," Vincent growled, shaking his head. "No, I'm going to go down to the 7-11 down the street and get some fucking cigarettes. It's the only way I'm going to be able to get through the rest of today."
He didn't give her a chance to respond before he stalked off towards the convenience store. His nagging feeling about something bad happening had come true. And if bad things came in threes, well between running out of cigarettes on a day like today, D leaving, and what happened to Sarah, he was done with his share of bad luck for at least a year. Though with D gone, at least he could smoke in peace.
That thought, however, offered very little in the way of consolation. But it would have to do.
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7