Rota Fortunae (10/?)
=====
“So listen; I’m staying at the Lakeside tonight. Call me when your shift ends, and maybe you can show me what the local cuisine has to offer.”
Reid fought the urge to smile at the long-limbed, dark-skinned pharmaceutical rep who’d followed him from the lab. Come-ons from a sales rep were usually less about actual attraction and more about greasing the wheels on a big sale (in which case, Reid hated to inform the man that he was barking up the wrong tree, in terms of pull in this hospital). Still, this was the second time in as many days that he’d received a reasonably attractive offer of companionship, which if he wasn’t mistaken (and really, when was he ever?) was a personal best even for him. It was hard to believe a town as small and cut off from the normal universe as Oakdale, Illinois, could feature such an out and assertive gay presence-but then, he’d already been here long enough to know that almost everyone in this town was a slave to their hormones. He made a note to run a test on the drinking water in his room and at the hospital. Whatever the cause of Oakdale’s problems, he hoped to hell it wasn’t communicable.
“I’m not sure the local cuisine has anything to offer,” Reid replied, almost amiably, “but I’ll keep you in mind.”
As his eyes followed the departing sales rep down the corridor to the elevators, Reid caught sight of a flash of golden hair in his peripheral vision. His face took on an unwelcoming scowl as he stepped forward to wage battle with Richie Rich.
“When I said no one following me, that included you, Mr. Snyder,” he growled.
Luke Snyder folded his arms across his chest, drawing Reid’s attention reluctantly to the tailored cut of the young man’s suit as it tightened around his broad shoulders. He had clearly found time to have a hair cut since yesterday’s encounter at the diner, and the combination of the expensive suit and the close-styled hair made Luke Snyder look every inch the sort of entitled little prince Reid had always hated. It was all Reid could do not to roll his eyes in disgust at the casual display of wealth.
That Luke also looked positively edible in his midnight blue suit and maroon shirt was beside the point.
“For your information,” Luke snapped, “I just came from a Board meeting. Don’t flatter yourself that my being here has anything to do with you.”
“Really?” Reid gave a mocking gasp. “No hidden agenda? No clever plan to take control of the Board, so you can singlehandedly oust me from the hospital? You surprise me, Mr. Snyder. I thought you had a lot more tricks up your sleeve.”
“I guess you’d know all about that,” Luke said spitefully. “What’s the matter, is playing Reid not getting results fast enough for you? Thought you’d see if you could get anywhere by seducing anyone you might have a use for?”
Reid wasn’t so much irritated by the attack as he was bewildered. “What?” he sputtered. “What are you--? Are you talking about your friend Patrick?”
“I’m talking about him, I’m talking about that…” Luke’s face puckered in distaste, “…that person you were just flirting with…. You know, if you’re trying to make people think you’re Reid Oliver, you’re making a big mistake. Reid would never use his work at the hospital as a ploy to cruise men for cheap sex.”
Reid snorted in disbelief at Luke’s accusation. “Seriously? You honestly think…” His voice trailed off as a sudden flash of insight struck him. “How well did you actually know your Reid Oliver?”
Luke’s jaw hit the proverbial floor. “How well did I know him?” he repeated hotly. “I loved him!”
With a wave of his hand, Reid dismissed that response as unimportant. “He… Your Reid came here in January, right? And he died in, what, early September?” Reid took Luke’s silence as confirmation. “So even if you two were going absolutely balls to the wall from the day you first met-which I doubt, since Katie tells me he originally came here to operate on your long-time boyfriend-you still wouldn't have reached the stage of showing your dark underbellies, would you? No, you couldn’t have, or you’d know that someone like that-“ Reid pointed in the direction the sales rep had taken-“someone with no games, no pointless courting rituals, and no question of wanting more than an evening of dinner and sex-that is exactly the kind of man your Reid would have gone for. You didn’t know your Reid Oliver at all.”
“That’s a lie!” Luke roared.
Reid laughed humorlessly, shaking his head as he followed his train of logic to the next inevitable conclusion. “It’s no wonder you can’t believe I’m the same man. Your Reid must have died just as you were getting started, just as you were finally getting to know him, and so you filled in all the gaps in your knowledge of him with things you wanted to believe. You’ve created this picture-perfect image of the perfect martyred boyfriend, and there’s no way I... no way anyone with actual flesh could ever hope to live up to such an impossible standard.”
Luke was now visibly trembling with fury. “Reid said I knew the important things,” he bit out, “and he was right. Reid wasn’t perfect; he was rude and arrogant and… and even when he tried, he couldn’t manage five minutes of small talk without saying something offensive. But underneath all the bluster, Reid cared so much about things. He cared about Katie’s happiness, even if she found it with someone who doesn’t deserve her or anything he’s gotten in life. He cared about Bob Hughes, even if Bob stood by and did nothing when Reid was the one who needed him. And he cared about me, even when I went on my stupid crusade to make him show the kind of man he was, like it wasn’t obvious to anyone smart enough to look for it.”
Luke’s voice was so thick with emotion as he went on, it was almost a struggle for Reid to distinguish the words. “Reid cared so much about his patients and friends and… and selfish brats with ridiculous hangups, it’s what finally got him killed in the end. So you may have done your homework, you may look like him and talk like him, and maybe even play chess like him. But in all this time you’ve been here, I’ve never even once seen you show that you care about anyone or anything but yourself.” He took a deep, calming breath, and then continued with a brutal certainty. “And that’s why I will never believe you’re Reid Oliver.”
Reid found himself blanching before the harsh condemnation in Luke’s eyes. “I-I…” he sputtered, fumbling for a response.
He was saved by the sound of the lab doors behind him slamming open to let the harried lab supervisor rush through.
“Doctor Oliver!” the man cried. “You’re needed in the ER, stat!”
====
As Reid stepped from the stairwell into the emergency ward, a visibly troubled nurse in pink scrubs looked up from her station to wave him in the direction of the triage room. Reid pushed through the double doors and instantly caught sight of John Dixon in a conversation with a slight, balding man whom Reid vaguely recognized as Memorial’s acting Chief of Neurosurgery.
The neurosurgeon (though based on the general competence of this staff, Reid suspected the description was true only in the loosest sense of the word) was holding out a film for John Dixon to study. “Two year old girl,” Reid heard the man say, “slipped through the railings of an inside staircase and fell about fifteen feet onto a marble landing. Patient is unresponsive, left pupil fixed and dilated, BP 80 over 50. CT scans indicate an acute epidural hematoma in the temporal region with…”
As the man continued, a look of exasperation crossed John Dixon’s mustached face. “I like to be kept informed, Bill, so don’t take this the wrong way-but why the hell are you standing here talking to me, then? You should be prepping this little girl for surgery.”
“Doctor,” the neurosurgeon answered, “I didn’t think I needed to remind you that we don’t have a pediatric neurosurgeon on staff here. Standard protocol is to stabilize the patient for transfer to Chicago Children’s Hospital, but as rapidly as the intracranial pressure is building, I’m afraid she won’t…”
There was no way Reid could remain silent. “You want to throw an infant with a brain hemorrhage on a 90 minute helicopter ride?” he interjected, stepping forward to rip the film from the other doctor’s hands. “She’ll be lucky if she makes it off the ground. What the hell kind of moron are you, anyway?”
“As I was saying, John,” the other doctor continued, pointedly ignoring Reid’s interruption, “in this child’s condition, putting her on a helicopter is nothing short of a death sentence. We have no choice but to operate here.”
“If you’re asking my permission, Bill, you’ve got it,” John said tersely.
But the neurosurgeon was shaking his head even as Dixon finished. “Dr. Dixon, the youngest patient I’ve ever performed surgery on was a 17-year-old boy. Children’s brains are completely different from adults, developmentally, physiologically… if I opened her up without knowing what to expect, I could end up doing her more harm than good. I’m simply not willing to take that risk. Not if Dr. Oliver is willing to offer his expertise.”
At the sound of his name, Reid looked up from his perusal of the CT scan results, to find the neurosurgeon staring at him in an open plea for his assistance. Reid looked back and forth between Dixon and the other doctor for a moment, mute with surprise and a sense of outrage that he was being asked to perform surgery when they both knew goddamned well he didn't technically have an active license to practice medicine. He opened his mouth to wish them a nice trip to the deepest circle of hell... but then a sense of cool rationale struck him, and he recognized the need to grasp an opportunity when presented to him. If there was any room for doubt that he was Reid Oliver, the best damn neurosurgeon in America if not the globe, then this was his best (and perhaps only) chance to demonstrate the talents that earned him that reputation.
Reid cleared his throat. "Of course I'll...."
“No!” The cry of dismay came from directly behind Reid. He peered over his shoulder and discovered (what a surprise!) that Luke Snyder had obviously abandoned his claim of having no further interest in following Reid around. Pushing forward in blatant disregard of the Hospital Staff Only sign posted in bold letters on the double doors, Luke approached the group of doctors. “This man is not who he says, you know that, John. You can’t possibly allow him to operate on someone.”
Reid cursed. “Mr. Snyder, what exactly is it going to take for you to stay the hell out of my life?”
The blond waved his hand at Reid's response, as if swatting at a buzzing insect. "You'd be insane to let him anywhere near the OR. For all you know, he's not any more qualified to operate on someone than I am!"
“Young man,” the neurosurgeon said loftily, “I’m aware there’s been some… irregularity… as far as Dr. Oliver’s position at Memorial, but I assure you, he is perfectly qualified to perform this surgery. Dr. Oliver performed hundreds of successful surgeries on young children during his time in Dallas. We’re very fortunate to have him.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you people all along,” Reid put in. “Now…”
“John!” Luke clearly had not yet given up on the argument. “You’re not actually considering this, are you?”
“I…” John hedged.
“My baby! What’s going on with my baby!” This latest was from a new voice-a voice Reid quickly traced to a distraught blond woman of about fortyish, who perched dramatically at the double doors before rushing forward past the pink-scrubbed nurse.
“Ma’am,” the nurse tried to halt her, “I’m sorry, you can’t be in here!”
“Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?” the woman cried, tears thickening her voice and casting an unnatural shine on her face. “John! John, tell me what’s happening to my baby!”
“Emily?” Luke said, curiously. “What are you…?" He stopped suddenly, with a start of realization. "Are they talking about Eliza? What happened?”
“I only looked away for a second!” the woman sobbed. “I just went to answer the phone, and then I heard the crash, and oh my God, there was so much blood! Oh, my baby, my baby!”
Luke reached out to put an awkward arm around the hysterical woman, then cast beseeching brown eyes up at Dixon. When Reid followed Luke's gaze to look back at the Chief of Staff, he found Dixon studying him with a shrewdly measuring glance.
“You understand how serious this is,” Dixon said somberly. “A child’s life is hanging in the balance. We can’t afford to take foolish risks.”
Reid scowled. “Then you’d better stop wasting my time,” he said firmly.
Dixon eyed him a moment longer, then nodded. “Fine,” he agreed. “But I want Dr. Wallace here to scrub in with you.”
Reid greeted that order with a careless shrug. “Send the whole staff in to observe,” he said flippantly. “Maybe they’ll actually learn something useful, for a change.”
As Reid turned away, fingers already tingling with the prospect of holding a scalpel once more, he heard Dixon approach Richie Rich and the sobbing baby mom. “Luke,” Dixon said, cutting off what Reid was sure to be Luke’s last-ditch effort to change Dixon’s mind, “why don’t you join me in assuring Emily that her daughter’s in good hands right now? And let’s see if we can’t get her family here, hmm? She shouldn’t have to be here alone.”
=====
Three hours, twenty minutes, and 200 cc’s of O negative later, Reid tossed his facemask and surgical gown into the proper receptacle and made his way to the waiting room outside the OR. Dr. Wallace, the head neurosurgeon who’d been assigned to supervise the operation, trotted along at Reid’s side, chattering mindlessly about drug protocols and postoperative management. Reid was feeling a bit worn, but it was a kind of weariness that Reid relished, the kind that came from testing his deft hands and powerful mind to the limit against a nearly inconceivable medical challenge.
As he entered the waiting room, he found the small lounge almost bursting at the seams with Oakdale natives. He saw the patient’s mother, red-eyed but blessedly not sobbing for the moment, her head resting on the shoulder of a sandy-haired man with a slightly bemused look about him. He recognized Loud Shirt from his first night in Oakdale-once again dressed in shirt with a blindingly discordant mixture of colors-and this time sitting with a well-dressed older woman Reid hoped was not Loud Shirt’s mother, based on the way she had draped herself over the man’s lap. He knew Bob Hughes from the former Chief’s regular visits to the hospital, and vaguely remembered that the short haired woman holding hands with Loud Shirt’s companion was Bob’s wife. Lucinda Walsh was there too, along with John Dixon, the latter still wearing his lab coat and stethoscope.
Reid was unsurprised to see Luke Snyder still in the waiting room, sitting quietly with a girl of perhaps ten years of age sleeping at his side, but the presence of Holden Snyder and Lily Walsh was a bit more unexpected. The plump older woman at Holden’s side and the dark-haired man rubbing the shoulders of a very pregnant blonde had the look of a Snyder about them too-and it occurred to Reid that, as in-bred as Oakdale undoubtedly was, it was only natural to expect that his young patient might somehow be related to the Snyders as well as half the other natives in town.
The child’s mother gasped as she caught sight of Reid’s presence and jumped up to greet him, her companion (husband?) following closely behind. “Doctor!” she gasped tremblingly. “Is Eliza… is she….?”
“Your daughter is a very lucky girl,” Reid said casually. “Given the extent of the skull fracture and the location of the bleed, I would say she had maybe a one in a million chance of surviving.” Reid shrugged. “But that’s because only one in a million children with injuries like that have me there, ready to operate. The bleed is under control and the bone fragments have been removed. Your kid will be back to running and screaming and spreading germs again in no time.”
“Err….” Dr. Wallace said, stepping in front of Reid to lay a hand on the shoulder of the confused mother, “what Dr. Oliver means is, we’ll need to keep a close eye on Eliza, watch out for any signs of secondary injury or infection. And of course, we can’t expect her to regain consciousness until the swelling in her brain has decreased some more, probably at least another 24 hours. But thanks to Dr. Oliver here, the surgery couldn’t have gone any better. I see no reason to think she’ll have anything less than a complete recovery.”
“Oh!” the mother cried out, clapping her hands together in relief-a relief that was echoed by the murmurs and exclamations of joy throughout the room. “Thank you, thank you! Can I see her now? Oh, my baby!”
Wallace answered again. “She’s still in Recovery right now, but we’ll get you in to see her as soon as we can.”
The woman grasped Wallace’s hands in a gesture of thanks, and before Reid could take a step back or get his own hands out of the way, she had turned and clasped his in a crushing grip. “Thank you so much, Dr. Oliver!” she breathed, ignoring his squawk of protest. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you…”
“You could let go, before you…”
“…Oh, I can’t ever thank you enough. Oh, thank you both. John, thank you too!” And the woman was off again, accepting the congratulations of the others in the room. Her companion extended his own thanks to Reid and the other neurosurgeon, though with a bit less violence.
“Dr. Oliver?” The plump woman who had been sitting with Holden Snyder stepped forward to greet him, her voice shaking with disbelief and gratitude. “I… I don’t understand how you came to be here, but all I can say is thank heavens you’re here. You saved my granddaughter’s life!”
Holden had approached by her side. “I guess this is the kind of proof it’s hard to argue against," he observed. "Dr. Oliver. Thank you.”
Reid cast a look of pointed inquiry in John Dixon’s direction; the mustached Chief of Surgery gave a nod, then moved closer. “Dr. Oliver,” Dixon said significantly. “Welcome back to Oakdale.”
As a crowd of well-wishers surged around him, jostling for the chance to express their appreciation at the timely display of neurosurgical mastery, Reid peered out in search of a tousled shock of blond hair. His smile glowing with a mixture of satisfaction and pride at the successful operation, with a little bit of undiluted joy thrown in for the sheer pleasure of being restored to his calling, Reid needed only to see the look of acceptance on one man’s face in order for his triumph to be complete.
But Luke Snyder was nowhere to be seen.
=====
Anxious as he was to confirm for himself the success of his latest operation, it was another several hours before Reid could tear himself away from the hospital. The patient's parents had been shown to the ICU as soon as the young girl was ready for visitors, and the rest of the crowd in the waiting room had departed soon afterward, but Reid had stationed himself on a bench near the child's room, making a show of examining a chart while he kept his ears primed for any sound from the patient's monitors indicating trouble.
By the time Reid had reluctantly departed for his room at the Lakeview, weariness had given way to utter exhaustion. Reid dragged himself through the hotel lobby and headed in the direction of the stairwell, but the thought of trudging up several flights of stairs seemed impossible in his tired state. Heaving a sigh of resignation, Reid passed the staircase and pushed the button to call for an elevator. He hated elevators in the best of conditions, and the one time he’d foolishly taken the Lakeview elevator had been enough to convince Reid that this ancient piece of machinery was hardly the best of conditions-but not even one rickety old deathtrap was enough to daunt Reid in his quest for a well-earned night of sleep.
The elevator doors slid open, and Reid took a deep breath to steel himself for the ordeal-when a slight shove from behind took him by surprise and sent him stumbling forward a few steps.
With a gasp of surprise and turned to meet the eyes of the man who’d pushed him into the elevator.
Luke Snyder’s eyes were darkly serious. “You and I need to talk,” he said, as the elevator doors slid shut behind them.
=====
“So listen; I’m staying at the Lakeside tonight. Call me when your shift ends, and maybe you can show me what the local cuisine has to offer.”
Reid fought the urge to smile at the long-limbed, dark-skinned pharmaceutical rep who’d followed him from the lab. Come-ons from a sales rep were usually less about actual attraction and more about greasing the wheels on a big sale (in which case, Reid hated to inform the man that he was barking up the wrong tree, in terms of pull in this hospital). Still, this was the second time in as many days that he’d received a reasonably attractive offer of companionship, which if he wasn’t mistaken (and really, when was he ever?) was a personal best even for him. It was hard to believe a town as small and cut off from the normal universe as Oakdale, Illinois, could feature such an out and assertive gay presence-but then, he’d already been here long enough to know that almost everyone in this town was a slave to their hormones. He made a note to run a test on the drinking water in his room and at the hospital. Whatever the cause of Oakdale’s problems, he hoped to hell it wasn’t communicable.
“I’m not sure the local cuisine has anything to offer,” Reid replied, almost amiably, “but I’ll keep you in mind.”
As his eyes followed the departing sales rep down the corridor to the elevators, Reid caught sight of a flash of golden hair in his peripheral vision. His face took on an unwelcoming scowl as he stepped forward to wage battle with Richie Rich.
“When I said no one following me, that included you, Mr. Snyder,” he growled.
Luke Snyder folded his arms across his chest, drawing Reid’s attention reluctantly to the tailored cut of the young man’s suit as it tightened around his broad shoulders. He had clearly found time to have a hair cut since yesterday’s encounter at the diner, and the combination of the expensive suit and the close-styled hair made Luke Snyder look every inch the sort of entitled little prince Reid had always hated. It was all Reid could do not to roll his eyes in disgust at the casual display of wealth.
That Luke also looked positively edible in his midnight blue suit and maroon shirt was beside the point.
“For your information,” Luke snapped, “I just came from a Board meeting. Don’t flatter yourself that my being here has anything to do with you.”
“Really?” Reid gave a mocking gasp. “No hidden agenda? No clever plan to take control of the Board, so you can singlehandedly oust me from the hospital? You surprise me, Mr. Snyder. I thought you had a lot more tricks up your sleeve.”
“I guess you’d know all about that,” Luke said spitefully. “What’s the matter, is playing Reid not getting results fast enough for you? Thought you’d see if you could get anywhere by seducing anyone you might have a use for?”
Reid wasn’t so much irritated by the attack as he was bewildered. “What?” he sputtered. “What are you--? Are you talking about your friend Patrick?”
“I’m talking about him, I’m talking about that…” Luke’s face puckered in distaste, “…that person you were just flirting with…. You know, if you’re trying to make people think you’re Reid Oliver, you’re making a big mistake. Reid would never use his work at the hospital as a ploy to cruise men for cheap sex.”
Reid snorted in disbelief at Luke’s accusation. “Seriously? You honestly think…” His voice trailed off as a sudden flash of insight struck him. “How well did you actually know your Reid Oliver?”
Luke’s jaw hit the proverbial floor. “How well did I know him?” he repeated hotly. “I loved him!”
With a wave of his hand, Reid dismissed that response as unimportant. “He… Your Reid came here in January, right? And he died in, what, early September?” Reid took Luke’s silence as confirmation. “So even if you two were going absolutely balls to the wall from the day you first met-which I doubt, since Katie tells me he originally came here to operate on your long-time boyfriend-you still wouldn't have reached the stage of showing your dark underbellies, would you? No, you couldn’t have, or you’d know that someone like that-“ Reid pointed in the direction the sales rep had taken-“someone with no games, no pointless courting rituals, and no question of wanting more than an evening of dinner and sex-that is exactly the kind of man your Reid would have gone for. You didn’t know your Reid Oliver at all.”
“That’s a lie!” Luke roared.
Reid laughed humorlessly, shaking his head as he followed his train of logic to the next inevitable conclusion. “It’s no wonder you can’t believe I’m the same man. Your Reid must have died just as you were getting started, just as you were finally getting to know him, and so you filled in all the gaps in your knowledge of him with things you wanted to believe. You’ve created this picture-perfect image of the perfect martyred boyfriend, and there’s no way I... no way anyone with actual flesh could ever hope to live up to such an impossible standard.”
Luke was now visibly trembling with fury. “Reid said I knew the important things,” he bit out, “and he was right. Reid wasn’t perfect; he was rude and arrogant and… and even when he tried, he couldn’t manage five minutes of small talk without saying something offensive. But underneath all the bluster, Reid cared so much about things. He cared about Katie’s happiness, even if she found it with someone who doesn’t deserve her or anything he’s gotten in life. He cared about Bob Hughes, even if Bob stood by and did nothing when Reid was the one who needed him. And he cared about me, even when I went on my stupid crusade to make him show the kind of man he was, like it wasn’t obvious to anyone smart enough to look for it.”
Luke’s voice was so thick with emotion as he went on, it was almost a struggle for Reid to distinguish the words. “Reid cared so much about his patients and friends and… and selfish brats with ridiculous hangups, it’s what finally got him killed in the end. So you may have done your homework, you may look like him and talk like him, and maybe even play chess like him. But in all this time you’ve been here, I’ve never even once seen you show that you care about anyone or anything but yourself.” He took a deep, calming breath, and then continued with a brutal certainty. “And that’s why I will never believe you’re Reid Oliver.”
Reid found himself blanching before the harsh condemnation in Luke’s eyes. “I-I…” he sputtered, fumbling for a response.
He was saved by the sound of the lab doors behind him slamming open to let the harried lab supervisor rush through.
“Doctor Oliver!” the man cried. “You’re needed in the ER, stat!”
====
As Reid stepped from the stairwell into the emergency ward, a visibly troubled nurse in pink scrubs looked up from her station to wave him in the direction of the triage room. Reid pushed through the double doors and instantly caught sight of John Dixon in a conversation with a slight, balding man whom Reid vaguely recognized as Memorial’s acting Chief of Neurosurgery.
The neurosurgeon (though based on the general competence of this staff, Reid suspected the description was true only in the loosest sense of the word) was holding out a film for John Dixon to study. “Two year old girl,” Reid heard the man say, “slipped through the railings of an inside staircase and fell about fifteen feet onto a marble landing. Patient is unresponsive, left pupil fixed and dilated, BP 80 over 50. CT scans indicate an acute epidural hematoma in the temporal region with…”
As the man continued, a look of exasperation crossed John Dixon’s mustached face. “I like to be kept informed, Bill, so don’t take this the wrong way-but why the hell are you standing here talking to me, then? You should be prepping this little girl for surgery.”
“Doctor,” the neurosurgeon answered, “I didn’t think I needed to remind you that we don’t have a pediatric neurosurgeon on staff here. Standard protocol is to stabilize the patient for transfer to Chicago Children’s Hospital, but as rapidly as the intracranial pressure is building, I’m afraid she won’t…”
There was no way Reid could remain silent. “You want to throw an infant with a brain hemorrhage on a 90 minute helicopter ride?” he interjected, stepping forward to rip the film from the other doctor’s hands. “She’ll be lucky if she makes it off the ground. What the hell kind of moron are you, anyway?”
“As I was saying, John,” the other doctor continued, pointedly ignoring Reid’s interruption, “in this child’s condition, putting her on a helicopter is nothing short of a death sentence. We have no choice but to operate here.”
“If you’re asking my permission, Bill, you’ve got it,” John said tersely.
But the neurosurgeon was shaking his head even as Dixon finished. “Dr. Dixon, the youngest patient I’ve ever performed surgery on was a 17-year-old boy. Children’s brains are completely different from adults, developmentally, physiologically… if I opened her up without knowing what to expect, I could end up doing her more harm than good. I’m simply not willing to take that risk. Not if Dr. Oliver is willing to offer his expertise.”
At the sound of his name, Reid looked up from his perusal of the CT scan results, to find the neurosurgeon staring at him in an open plea for his assistance. Reid looked back and forth between Dixon and the other doctor for a moment, mute with surprise and a sense of outrage that he was being asked to perform surgery when they both knew goddamned well he didn't technically have an active license to practice medicine. He opened his mouth to wish them a nice trip to the deepest circle of hell... but then a sense of cool rationale struck him, and he recognized the need to grasp an opportunity when presented to him. If there was any room for doubt that he was Reid Oliver, the best damn neurosurgeon in America if not the globe, then this was his best (and perhaps only) chance to demonstrate the talents that earned him that reputation.
Reid cleared his throat. "Of course I'll...."
“No!” The cry of dismay came from directly behind Reid. He peered over his shoulder and discovered (what a surprise!) that Luke Snyder had obviously abandoned his claim of having no further interest in following Reid around. Pushing forward in blatant disregard of the Hospital Staff Only sign posted in bold letters on the double doors, Luke approached the group of doctors. “This man is not who he says, you know that, John. You can’t possibly allow him to operate on someone.”
Reid cursed. “Mr. Snyder, what exactly is it going to take for you to stay the hell out of my life?”
The blond waved his hand at Reid's response, as if swatting at a buzzing insect. "You'd be insane to let him anywhere near the OR. For all you know, he's not any more qualified to operate on someone than I am!"
“Young man,” the neurosurgeon said loftily, “I’m aware there’s been some… irregularity… as far as Dr. Oliver’s position at Memorial, but I assure you, he is perfectly qualified to perform this surgery. Dr. Oliver performed hundreds of successful surgeries on young children during his time in Dallas. We’re very fortunate to have him.”
“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you people all along,” Reid put in. “Now…”
“John!” Luke clearly had not yet given up on the argument. “You’re not actually considering this, are you?”
“I…” John hedged.
“My baby! What’s going on with my baby!” This latest was from a new voice-a voice Reid quickly traced to a distraught blond woman of about fortyish, who perched dramatically at the double doors before rushing forward past the pink-scrubbed nurse.
“Ma’am,” the nurse tried to halt her, “I’m sorry, you can’t be in here!”
“Why won’t anyone tell me what’s going on?” the woman cried, tears thickening her voice and casting an unnatural shine on her face. “John! John, tell me what’s happening to my baby!”
“Emily?” Luke said, curiously. “What are you…?" He stopped suddenly, with a start of realization. "Are they talking about Eliza? What happened?”
“I only looked away for a second!” the woman sobbed. “I just went to answer the phone, and then I heard the crash, and oh my God, there was so much blood! Oh, my baby, my baby!”
Luke reached out to put an awkward arm around the hysterical woman, then cast beseeching brown eyes up at Dixon. When Reid followed Luke's gaze to look back at the Chief of Staff, he found Dixon studying him with a shrewdly measuring glance.
“You understand how serious this is,” Dixon said somberly. “A child’s life is hanging in the balance. We can’t afford to take foolish risks.”
Reid scowled. “Then you’d better stop wasting my time,” he said firmly.
Dixon eyed him a moment longer, then nodded. “Fine,” he agreed. “But I want Dr. Wallace here to scrub in with you.”
Reid greeted that order with a careless shrug. “Send the whole staff in to observe,” he said flippantly. “Maybe they’ll actually learn something useful, for a change.”
As Reid turned away, fingers already tingling with the prospect of holding a scalpel once more, he heard Dixon approach Richie Rich and the sobbing baby mom. “Luke,” Dixon said, cutting off what Reid was sure to be Luke’s last-ditch effort to change Dixon’s mind, “why don’t you join me in assuring Emily that her daughter’s in good hands right now? And let’s see if we can’t get her family here, hmm? She shouldn’t have to be here alone.”
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Three hours, twenty minutes, and 200 cc’s of O negative later, Reid tossed his facemask and surgical gown into the proper receptacle and made his way to the waiting room outside the OR. Dr. Wallace, the head neurosurgeon who’d been assigned to supervise the operation, trotted along at Reid’s side, chattering mindlessly about drug protocols and postoperative management. Reid was feeling a bit worn, but it was a kind of weariness that Reid relished, the kind that came from testing his deft hands and powerful mind to the limit against a nearly inconceivable medical challenge.
As he entered the waiting room, he found the small lounge almost bursting at the seams with Oakdale natives. He saw the patient’s mother, red-eyed but blessedly not sobbing for the moment, her head resting on the shoulder of a sandy-haired man with a slightly bemused look about him. He recognized Loud Shirt from his first night in Oakdale-once again dressed in shirt with a blindingly discordant mixture of colors-and this time sitting with a well-dressed older woman Reid hoped was not Loud Shirt’s mother, based on the way she had draped herself over the man’s lap. He knew Bob Hughes from the former Chief’s regular visits to the hospital, and vaguely remembered that the short haired woman holding hands with Loud Shirt’s companion was Bob’s wife. Lucinda Walsh was there too, along with John Dixon, the latter still wearing his lab coat and stethoscope.
Reid was unsurprised to see Luke Snyder still in the waiting room, sitting quietly with a girl of perhaps ten years of age sleeping at his side, but the presence of Holden Snyder and Lily Walsh was a bit more unexpected. The plump older woman at Holden’s side and the dark-haired man rubbing the shoulders of a very pregnant blonde had the look of a Snyder about them too-and it occurred to Reid that, as in-bred as Oakdale undoubtedly was, it was only natural to expect that his young patient might somehow be related to the Snyders as well as half the other natives in town.
The child’s mother gasped as she caught sight of Reid’s presence and jumped up to greet him, her companion (husband?) following closely behind. “Doctor!” she gasped tremblingly. “Is Eliza… is she….?”
“Your daughter is a very lucky girl,” Reid said casually. “Given the extent of the skull fracture and the location of the bleed, I would say she had maybe a one in a million chance of surviving.” Reid shrugged. “But that’s because only one in a million children with injuries like that have me there, ready to operate. The bleed is under control and the bone fragments have been removed. Your kid will be back to running and screaming and spreading germs again in no time.”
“Err….” Dr. Wallace said, stepping in front of Reid to lay a hand on the shoulder of the confused mother, “what Dr. Oliver means is, we’ll need to keep a close eye on Eliza, watch out for any signs of secondary injury or infection. And of course, we can’t expect her to regain consciousness until the swelling in her brain has decreased some more, probably at least another 24 hours. But thanks to Dr. Oliver here, the surgery couldn’t have gone any better. I see no reason to think she’ll have anything less than a complete recovery.”
“Oh!” the mother cried out, clapping her hands together in relief-a relief that was echoed by the murmurs and exclamations of joy throughout the room. “Thank you, thank you! Can I see her now? Oh, my baby!”
Wallace answered again. “She’s still in Recovery right now, but we’ll get you in to see her as soon as we can.”
The woman grasped Wallace’s hands in a gesture of thanks, and before Reid could take a step back or get his own hands out of the way, she had turned and clasped his in a crushing grip. “Thank you so much, Dr. Oliver!” she breathed, ignoring his squawk of protest. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you…”
“You could let go, before you…”
“…Oh, I can’t ever thank you enough. Oh, thank you both. John, thank you too!” And the woman was off again, accepting the congratulations of the others in the room. Her companion extended his own thanks to Reid and the other neurosurgeon, though with a bit less violence.
“Dr. Oliver?” The plump woman who had been sitting with Holden Snyder stepped forward to greet him, her voice shaking with disbelief and gratitude. “I… I don’t understand how you came to be here, but all I can say is thank heavens you’re here. You saved my granddaughter’s life!”
Holden had approached by her side. “I guess this is the kind of proof it’s hard to argue against," he observed. "Dr. Oliver. Thank you.”
Reid cast a look of pointed inquiry in John Dixon’s direction; the mustached Chief of Surgery gave a nod, then moved closer. “Dr. Oliver,” Dixon said significantly. “Welcome back to Oakdale.”
As a crowd of well-wishers surged around him, jostling for the chance to express their appreciation at the timely display of neurosurgical mastery, Reid peered out in search of a tousled shock of blond hair. His smile glowing with a mixture of satisfaction and pride at the successful operation, with a little bit of undiluted joy thrown in for the sheer pleasure of being restored to his calling, Reid needed only to see the look of acceptance on one man’s face in order for his triumph to be complete.
But Luke Snyder was nowhere to be seen.
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Anxious as he was to confirm for himself the success of his latest operation, it was another several hours before Reid could tear himself away from the hospital. The patient's parents had been shown to the ICU as soon as the young girl was ready for visitors, and the rest of the crowd in the waiting room had departed soon afterward, but Reid had stationed himself on a bench near the child's room, making a show of examining a chart while he kept his ears primed for any sound from the patient's monitors indicating trouble.
By the time Reid had reluctantly departed for his room at the Lakeview, weariness had given way to utter exhaustion. Reid dragged himself through the hotel lobby and headed in the direction of the stairwell, but the thought of trudging up several flights of stairs seemed impossible in his tired state. Heaving a sigh of resignation, Reid passed the staircase and pushed the button to call for an elevator. He hated elevators in the best of conditions, and the one time he’d foolishly taken the Lakeview elevator had been enough to convince Reid that this ancient piece of machinery was hardly the best of conditions-but not even one rickety old deathtrap was enough to daunt Reid in his quest for a well-earned night of sleep.
The elevator doors slid open, and Reid took a deep breath to steel himself for the ordeal-when a slight shove from behind took him by surprise and sent him stumbling forward a few steps.
With a gasp of surprise and turned to meet the eyes of the man who’d pushed him into the elevator.
Luke Snyder’s eyes were darkly serious. “You and I need to talk,” he said, as the elevator doors slid shut behind them.
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