Rota Fortunae (5/?)
Reid placed his order at the Java counter and then shuffled off to the edges of the shop’s bustling midday crowd to await his drink. He was due back at Oakdale Memorial in half an hour, and it was taking every ounce of his considerable willpower not to let his shoulders droop and his head hang low at the unwelcome prospect.
The crowd in the conference room had thinned quickly after Luke Snyder’s dramatic departure that first night in Oakdale. When the room had cleared, the Chief of Staff had gestured for Reid to stay put as he too stepped from the room, still bickering with the steely-eyed woman who seemed to be a member of the Snyder clan. When Dixon returned, he’d surprised Reid with the sudden announcement that, as a licensed medical practitioner and a vanguard of the public health and welfare, the doctor felt an ethical obligation not to rescind Reid Oliver’s death certificate and restore his license to active status until he had confirmed beyond all doubt that the man who’d be taking on those credentials truly was a qualified neurosurgeon. As Reid sputtered in helpless outrage at the news, the Chief of Staff had sketched out a daily schedule for Reid to work alongside Memorial’s neurosurgery staff, and he assured Reid-rather smugly, Reid thought-that the assessment process would take no more than a month, or two at the latest.
Which brought Reid rather abruptly to his current state of misery-stuck indefinitely in this one-horse town, practicing slave labor in some medieval hospital while its crook of a supervisor held the still-active death certificate over his head, and with nothing to occupy the time Reid didn’t spend at the hospital except for filling up on mediocre chili at the local diner and sleeping in a chair in the germ-infested cesspool of a room he’d rented in the town’s least unpalatable hotel. Worse yet, Dr. Dixon had reduced Reid to the status of a glorified intern, being babysat on his rounds by the hospital’s staff of barely functioning med techs, unable to write so much as a note in a patient’s chart without the blessing of another doctor.
It chafed Reid almost unbearably to be supervised in his duties in a town whose population had yet to produce a case that might challenge someone with even half of Reid’s medical expertise, but in the eight days he’d been forced to endure the situation, he’d so far managed to push through by reminding himself how much better this was than not practicing medicine at all… and also by being as nasty as possible to whichever mouth-breathing mental midget had been assigned to watch over his shoulder that day.
Reid snarled as his elbow was jostled for the dozenth time by one of the caffeine-starved masses at the coffeehouse; he spun, planning to abandon his drink order in favor of the relative quiet (and undrinkable swill) of the hospital lounge, only for his progress to meet an abrupt halt as he crashed into something behind him.
“Watch it!” a voice cried, and Reid felt the warmth of a solid body and heard the whisk of papers cascading to the floor before his vision caught up with the rest of him and he identified the form he’d collided with as one very unhappy Luke Snyder.
“Oh, it’s you,” Reid snarled. “I suppose I have you to thank for my incarceration in this town.”
The younger man’s eyes narrowed with anger. “Believe me,” he snapped, “if I had anything to say about it, you’d be a lot more incarcerated than this. I wanted you chased out of town on the business end of a pitchfork, but Grandmother thinks we should hold you here till we know who we’re dealing with.”
“Business end of a pitchfork,” Reid mocked; “is that what passes for entertainment here in Nowhereville?”
Reid eyes took on a spiteful gleam as Luke stooped to gather the thick file of papers that had scattered around them. He slid his foot along the floor a few inches and shifted his weight, smiling as his shoe pressed down on a small pile of black and white photographs.
Luke gave a humorless laugh. “I don’t believe this,” he said, his voice thick with some unidentified emotion as he looked up from his crouched stance to meet Reid’s eyes. “Would you please take a step back so I can gather up my file, and then I’ll leave and you can go make someone else’s life miserable for a change.”
“Oh, of course!” Reid said, with a mockingly gracious sweep of his arm. “Wouldn’t want to keep anyone here against his will, now, would I?”
As Reid stepped back and bent to help Luke collect his papers, he caught his first good glance at the photographs under his feet-fuzzy and dim, but depicting a scene and a face that were unmistakable to him. He picked up the photos and narrowed his gaze at the date and time inscribed in the corner of the images.
“You pulled security footage from the hall outside my condo?” Reid asked, disbelieving his eyes. “That’s… that’s private property! How did you even--?”
Reid picked up the remaining papers on the ground, catching a quick glance of what appeared to be phone records and a wire transfer receipt before the young man snatched the pile from Reid’s hand, stuffing them back in their thick manila folder before rising to his feet to stare menacingly down at him. “You didn’t seriously think anyone would take your preposterous story on faith, did you?”
Reid rose slso and mirrored the young man’s stance with an intimidating one of his own. “I didn’t seriously think some little trust fund brat would be so pigheadedly set against my return he’d bribe my building’s management firm to release their private security tapes. Tell me, Mr. Snyder, did your crack team of investigators confirm my preposterous story?”
Luke folded his arms against his chest and gave Reid an angry glare. “The only thing they confirmed is that you took the trouble to establish your charade all the way back at Reid’s condo. And that you’ve managed to convince Reid’s uncle that you’re legit, although since Reid hadn’t spoken to the man in two years and hadn’t seen him in almost a decade, he’s not exactly the most credible witness.”
“As compared to you,” Reid said nastily, “who knew my namesake so intimately for all of what? A few months?”
Luke blanched at this, as if Reid had struck a nerve.
“Sir? Sir!” called a voice from behind Reid. “Is this your drink? Caramel latte, whipped cream, extra shot?”
Reid turned to see a young woman behind the shop counter holding a drink out in his direction. He stepped away from Luke, clearing his throat self-consciously as he turned to collect his drink from the barista. As he took a quick, warming sip of his drink, Reid looked sheepishly back at Luke, expecting to find the young man crowing with glee at discovering Reid’s shamefully sugary taste in beverages.
But the look on Luke’s face bore no trace of humor. The young man seemed transfixed by the thin paper cup in Reid’s hands, his mouth twisting with emotion as he stared unblinkingly at the beverage. Reid stood motionless as he watched painful memories play across the man’s expressive face, before the young man turned haunted eyes back up to his.
“Stop,” the man begged, his voice thick with anguish. “Please, just stop!”
Reid felt a sharp pang of guilt as he watched Luke turn and flee for a second time from the sight of him, He took a half step in the direction of the door, wanting to chase after him, wanting to-wanting to what, Reid? Apologize? For what? For not being the Reid Oliver that Luke so clearly had loved? Or for…?
He had no idea how long he stood there, drink slowly cooling in his hands, before he felt a hand on his elbow and he pulled his gaze away from the Java door to catch a flash of bright blond hair atop a wide grin.
“Reid!” the blond woman from the conference room gathering greeted him warmly. “I’ve been wanting to catch up with you again. Let’s go grab a seat, so we can talk?”
Reid drew instinctively back from the woman’s request, but her hand remained firmly on his elbow. “And why on earth would I want to do that?” he protested.
Far from being put off by Reid’s rudeness, the young woman seemed, if anything, only encouraged by his ill mood. “This may come as a surprise to you, Dr. Oliver,” she said, “but I was the last Dr. Oliver’s best friend in the world. I’d like to be your friend too.”
Reid wanted to say something snarky, something to the effect that he’d never found any real need for a best friend, and that even if he had, he sure as hell wouldn’t pick someone so accursedly bubbly for the job… but somehow before conscious thought could intrude, he found himself giving a meek nod and being led away from the Java counter. A few minutes later, he was tucked away in the corner of the Java, listening to Katie Peretti something-something Hughes relate the story of how she and Reid’s doppelganger first met.
“You thought I looked like a podiatrist?” Reid remarked, not sure if he was more amused or aghast.
“I was going for a ‘head up the ass’ comparison, only I mixed up podiatrist and proctologist.” Katie replied, shrugging it off with a merry grin. “Hey, no ever said I had a mind for medicine.”
Reid took a drink to cover the smile, resisting the urge to comment for the sake of his namesake’s friendship with the perky blonde.
“Anyway, before I knew it, I was inviting him to be my roommate, and the rest was history.” Katie was silent for a moment, before continuing in a more serious vein. “Reid was exactly the friend I needed in the worst days of my life. My husband had just died, leaving me alone with Jacob and feeling like it was all I could do to keep breathing. Reid poked and prodded and was just so tough and so Reid that before I knew it, I was using his example to find the strength to start living again.”
Reid was strangely touched by the woman’s gratitude for the other ‘him’-but something about her remarks struck him with surprise. “Hold the phone,” he said, “your husband died last year but you’re married now? You people don’t waste any time around here, do you?”
“Oh, well,” Katie replied, seeming a bit flustered by the observation, “I really love Chris, and… you know, there was his heart condition and all, and for a while we all thought he might die and… it just seemed like the right thing to do, even if it was really sudden.”
“Seemed?” Reid asked quietly, emphasizing her use of past tense.
Katie looked away, the corners of her lips quirking in a wry smile. “And there’s the tell-it-like-it-is Dr. Oliver I knew and loved.” When she faced him again, her smile was more genuine, and Reid felt the change of subject coming even before she delivered it. “I’m so happy to have you back, Reid, and I know I’m not only one who feels that way. I know the other Reid wasn’t exactly Mr. Popularity, but he had a lot of people who cared very deeply about him, and even more who admired and respected him. Losing him was a terrible blow to us all.”
“So I understand,” Reid remarked distantly, his eyes straying over to the exit.
Katie’s eyes softened, and she caught Reid’s hand on the table in a warm grip. “I think Luke Snyder will be happy you’re here too, if you give him a little time. He lost so much more than any of us when Reid died, and so he’s just finding it harder to let himself believe in the miracle.”
Reid turned his startled gaze back to the woman. “I don’t care what Mr. Snyder thinks!” he bristled, pulling his hand away from hers. “The other Reid Oliver may have loved him, but to me he’s just another spoiled rich brat with a rather flexible view on the law.”
“A very attractive rich brat, though, wouldn’t you say?” Katie replied knowingly. She studied Reid for a moment, her eyes gleaming with amusement; then suddenly her face darkened, her brow wrinking as if with a sudden concern. “You… you are gay, aren’t you? You do find him attractive?”
Reid scowled at his self-proclaimed best friend. “Just once I’d like to have a conversation in this town that doesn’t start to feel like a pop quiz,” he groused. “Yes, I’m gay, and yes, I suppose Luke Snyder is… attractive enough, in a bitchy kind of way. But I’m not looking for a boyfriend, and even if I was, I wouldn’t be looking at him.”
His companion didn’t even bother to hide her disbelieving grin. “That’s what the other Reid said.”
Reid shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then made an obvious show of looking at his watch. “I have to get to the hospital,” he said, rising to his feet. “It’s been… fun.”
Katie grinned again, then hopped from her seat and threw her arms around Reid’s shoulders. “We’ll have to do this again soon,” she said, giving him a friendly squeeze. “You haven’t met Jacob yet, and we have so many things to catch up on. I’ll call you at the hospital?”
Reid lay an awkward hand on the woman’s back, feeling a strange lump build in his throat. He never would have thought it possible, even as recently as this morning, but he was starting to have a bit of an idea how his namesake could have left a promising career in Dallas for a backwater hole like Oakdale. “Call me at the hospital,” he agreed.
The crowd in the conference room had thinned quickly after Luke Snyder’s dramatic departure that first night in Oakdale. When the room had cleared, the Chief of Staff had gestured for Reid to stay put as he too stepped from the room, still bickering with the steely-eyed woman who seemed to be a member of the Snyder clan. When Dixon returned, he’d surprised Reid with the sudden announcement that, as a licensed medical practitioner and a vanguard of the public health and welfare, the doctor felt an ethical obligation not to rescind Reid Oliver’s death certificate and restore his license to active status until he had confirmed beyond all doubt that the man who’d be taking on those credentials truly was a qualified neurosurgeon. As Reid sputtered in helpless outrage at the news, the Chief of Staff had sketched out a daily schedule for Reid to work alongside Memorial’s neurosurgery staff, and he assured Reid-rather smugly, Reid thought-that the assessment process would take no more than a month, or two at the latest.
Which brought Reid rather abruptly to his current state of misery-stuck indefinitely in this one-horse town, practicing slave labor in some medieval hospital while its crook of a supervisor held the still-active death certificate over his head, and with nothing to occupy the time Reid didn’t spend at the hospital except for filling up on mediocre chili at the local diner and sleeping in a chair in the germ-infested cesspool of a room he’d rented in the town’s least unpalatable hotel. Worse yet, Dr. Dixon had reduced Reid to the status of a glorified intern, being babysat on his rounds by the hospital’s staff of barely functioning med techs, unable to write so much as a note in a patient’s chart without the blessing of another doctor.
It chafed Reid almost unbearably to be supervised in his duties in a town whose population had yet to produce a case that might challenge someone with even half of Reid’s medical expertise, but in the eight days he’d been forced to endure the situation, he’d so far managed to push through by reminding himself how much better this was than not practicing medicine at all… and also by being as nasty as possible to whichever mouth-breathing mental midget had been assigned to watch over his shoulder that day.
Reid snarled as his elbow was jostled for the dozenth time by one of the caffeine-starved masses at the coffeehouse; he spun, planning to abandon his drink order in favor of the relative quiet (and undrinkable swill) of the hospital lounge, only for his progress to meet an abrupt halt as he crashed into something behind him.
“Watch it!” a voice cried, and Reid felt the warmth of a solid body and heard the whisk of papers cascading to the floor before his vision caught up with the rest of him and he identified the form he’d collided with as one very unhappy Luke Snyder.
“Oh, it’s you,” Reid snarled. “I suppose I have you to thank for my incarceration in this town.”
The younger man’s eyes narrowed with anger. “Believe me,” he snapped, “if I had anything to say about it, you’d be a lot more incarcerated than this. I wanted you chased out of town on the business end of a pitchfork, but Grandmother thinks we should hold you here till we know who we’re dealing with.”
“Business end of a pitchfork,” Reid mocked; “is that what passes for entertainment here in Nowhereville?”
Reid eyes took on a spiteful gleam as Luke stooped to gather the thick file of papers that had scattered around them. He slid his foot along the floor a few inches and shifted his weight, smiling as his shoe pressed down on a small pile of black and white photographs.
Luke gave a humorless laugh. “I don’t believe this,” he said, his voice thick with some unidentified emotion as he looked up from his crouched stance to meet Reid’s eyes. “Would you please take a step back so I can gather up my file, and then I’ll leave and you can go make someone else’s life miserable for a change.”
“Oh, of course!” Reid said, with a mockingly gracious sweep of his arm. “Wouldn’t want to keep anyone here against his will, now, would I?”
As Reid stepped back and bent to help Luke collect his papers, he caught his first good glance at the photographs under his feet-fuzzy and dim, but depicting a scene and a face that were unmistakable to him. He picked up the photos and narrowed his gaze at the date and time inscribed in the corner of the images.
“You pulled security footage from the hall outside my condo?” Reid asked, disbelieving his eyes. “That’s… that’s private property! How did you even--?”
Reid picked up the remaining papers on the ground, catching a quick glance of what appeared to be phone records and a wire transfer receipt before the young man snatched the pile from Reid’s hand, stuffing them back in their thick manila folder before rising to his feet to stare menacingly down at him. “You didn’t seriously think anyone would take your preposterous story on faith, did you?”
Reid rose slso and mirrored the young man’s stance with an intimidating one of his own. “I didn’t seriously think some little trust fund brat would be so pigheadedly set against my return he’d bribe my building’s management firm to release their private security tapes. Tell me, Mr. Snyder, did your crack team of investigators confirm my preposterous story?”
Luke folded his arms against his chest and gave Reid an angry glare. “The only thing they confirmed is that you took the trouble to establish your charade all the way back at Reid’s condo. And that you’ve managed to convince Reid’s uncle that you’re legit, although since Reid hadn’t spoken to the man in two years and hadn’t seen him in almost a decade, he’s not exactly the most credible witness.”
“As compared to you,” Reid said nastily, “who knew my namesake so intimately for all of what? A few months?”
Luke blanched at this, as if Reid had struck a nerve.
“Sir? Sir!” called a voice from behind Reid. “Is this your drink? Caramel latte, whipped cream, extra shot?”
Reid turned to see a young woman behind the shop counter holding a drink out in his direction. He stepped away from Luke, clearing his throat self-consciously as he turned to collect his drink from the barista. As he took a quick, warming sip of his drink, Reid looked sheepishly back at Luke, expecting to find the young man crowing with glee at discovering Reid’s shamefully sugary taste in beverages.
But the look on Luke’s face bore no trace of humor. The young man seemed transfixed by the thin paper cup in Reid’s hands, his mouth twisting with emotion as he stared unblinkingly at the beverage. Reid stood motionless as he watched painful memories play across the man’s expressive face, before the young man turned haunted eyes back up to his.
“Stop,” the man begged, his voice thick with anguish. “Please, just stop!”
Reid felt a sharp pang of guilt as he watched Luke turn and flee for a second time from the sight of him, He took a half step in the direction of the door, wanting to chase after him, wanting to-wanting to what, Reid? Apologize? For what? For not being the Reid Oliver that Luke so clearly had loved? Or for…?
He had no idea how long he stood there, drink slowly cooling in his hands, before he felt a hand on his elbow and he pulled his gaze away from the Java door to catch a flash of bright blond hair atop a wide grin.
“Reid!” the blond woman from the conference room gathering greeted him warmly. “I’ve been wanting to catch up with you again. Let’s go grab a seat, so we can talk?”
Reid drew instinctively back from the woman’s request, but her hand remained firmly on his elbow. “And why on earth would I want to do that?” he protested.
Far from being put off by Reid’s rudeness, the young woman seemed, if anything, only encouraged by his ill mood. “This may come as a surprise to you, Dr. Oliver,” she said, “but I was the last Dr. Oliver’s best friend in the world. I’d like to be your friend too.”
Reid wanted to say something snarky, something to the effect that he’d never found any real need for a best friend, and that even if he had, he sure as hell wouldn’t pick someone so accursedly bubbly for the job… but somehow before conscious thought could intrude, he found himself giving a meek nod and being led away from the Java counter. A few minutes later, he was tucked away in the corner of the Java, listening to Katie Peretti something-something Hughes relate the story of how she and Reid’s doppelganger first met.
“You thought I looked like a podiatrist?” Reid remarked, not sure if he was more amused or aghast.
“I was going for a ‘head up the ass’ comparison, only I mixed up podiatrist and proctologist.” Katie replied, shrugging it off with a merry grin. “Hey, no ever said I had a mind for medicine.”
Reid took a drink to cover the smile, resisting the urge to comment for the sake of his namesake’s friendship with the perky blonde.
“Anyway, before I knew it, I was inviting him to be my roommate, and the rest was history.” Katie was silent for a moment, before continuing in a more serious vein. “Reid was exactly the friend I needed in the worst days of my life. My husband had just died, leaving me alone with Jacob and feeling like it was all I could do to keep breathing. Reid poked and prodded and was just so tough and so Reid that before I knew it, I was using his example to find the strength to start living again.”
Reid was strangely touched by the woman’s gratitude for the other ‘him’-but something about her remarks struck him with surprise. “Hold the phone,” he said, “your husband died last year but you’re married now? You people don’t waste any time around here, do you?”
“Oh, well,” Katie replied, seeming a bit flustered by the observation, “I really love Chris, and… you know, there was his heart condition and all, and for a while we all thought he might die and… it just seemed like the right thing to do, even if it was really sudden.”
“Seemed?” Reid asked quietly, emphasizing her use of past tense.
Katie looked away, the corners of her lips quirking in a wry smile. “And there’s the tell-it-like-it-is Dr. Oliver I knew and loved.” When she faced him again, her smile was more genuine, and Reid felt the change of subject coming even before she delivered it. “I’m so happy to have you back, Reid, and I know I’m not only one who feels that way. I know the other Reid wasn’t exactly Mr. Popularity, but he had a lot of people who cared very deeply about him, and even more who admired and respected him. Losing him was a terrible blow to us all.”
“So I understand,” Reid remarked distantly, his eyes straying over to the exit.
Katie’s eyes softened, and she caught Reid’s hand on the table in a warm grip. “I think Luke Snyder will be happy you’re here too, if you give him a little time. He lost so much more than any of us when Reid died, and so he’s just finding it harder to let himself believe in the miracle.”
Reid turned his startled gaze back to the woman. “I don’t care what Mr. Snyder thinks!” he bristled, pulling his hand away from hers. “The other Reid Oliver may have loved him, but to me he’s just another spoiled rich brat with a rather flexible view on the law.”
“A very attractive rich brat, though, wouldn’t you say?” Katie replied knowingly. She studied Reid for a moment, her eyes gleaming with amusement; then suddenly her face darkened, her brow wrinking as if with a sudden concern. “You… you are gay, aren’t you? You do find him attractive?”
Reid scowled at his self-proclaimed best friend. “Just once I’d like to have a conversation in this town that doesn’t start to feel like a pop quiz,” he groused. “Yes, I’m gay, and yes, I suppose Luke Snyder is… attractive enough, in a bitchy kind of way. But I’m not looking for a boyfriend, and even if I was, I wouldn’t be looking at him.”
His companion didn’t even bother to hide her disbelieving grin. “That’s what the other Reid said.”
Reid shifted uncomfortably in his seat, then made an obvious show of looking at his watch. “I have to get to the hospital,” he said, rising to his feet. “It’s been… fun.”
Katie grinned again, then hopped from her seat and threw her arms around Reid’s shoulders. “We’ll have to do this again soon,” she said, giving him a friendly squeeze. “You haven’t met Jacob yet, and we have so many things to catch up on. I’ll call you at the hospital?”
Reid lay an awkward hand on the woman’s back, feeling a strange lump build in his throat. He never would have thought it possible, even as recently as this morning, but he was starting to have a bit of an idea how his namesake could have left a promising career in Dallas for a backwater hole like Oakdale. “Call me at the hospital,” he agreed.