Sobriety II (Gideon delivers a piece of background information) Pt 2 - text
Author: Scotianova
Beta-fairy: Carol38
Disclaimer: I don't own them and writing about them is just for fun.
Genre/Moods: Insecurity, hurt, illumination leading to COMFORT :)
Pairing: Of course this journey is about Luke and Reid, however Gideon Masterson,
Reid’s assistant, and some other characters are joining them.
Warning: Noah is there - but less narrow-minded as I usually picture him.
Rating: sexual contents in some chapters
AN 1:This is my first attempt to write a multi-chapter story in the first-person-perspectives. It’s kind of a
correspondent-story to ‘Farouche’, because there I tried to explore Reid's 'inapproachableness' and here I focus on his 'sobriety-
calmness-desurgency'.
AN 2: And it's kind of homage to a very special man, my best friend!
AN 2: Gideon is NOT Reid’s love interest!
Summary: “I thought I was in control of everything. Structure, strategy, methodology meant almost everything to me; I had figured out my whole life - my professional and my personal. Then I met fate - face to face - I met it several times. But only the last encounter made me
understand: There is an elemental force out there. Call it fate, call it God, call it coincidence - whatever name you put on it doesn’t matter,
but it’s there and you are powerless to fight it. You are supposed to go with it.” (Reid S. Oliver, MD, professor of neurology at Harvard Medical School)
Gideon
We want to believe that all humans were created equally, but they are not, actually they are very different. However there are a few conditions in which people become equal and every difference loses its meaning. All newborns for instance are the epitome of innocence, and if someone is moribund it doesn’t matter if they are rich or poor, smart or simpleminded, they are generally facing the same ultimate challenge. Isn’t this fascinating? That we are on the same page the moment we’re born and the moment we’re going to leave this world? So, most differences are the result of our own human creations and decisions.
Then there is this thing about the most overrated and simultaneously underrated feeling in the world: Love. OMG. I don’t want to go there, but being confronted with a pretty messed up looking example of a person who seems to have a strange view on relationships I can’t help it.
Well, if someone is truly in love they act like lovable idiots and if they are lovesick they all suffer from the same pain. Getting to the point, I think pain is the one condition that makes all humans as human as possible.
Well, I don’t claim to understand human nature in general, but I do understand and recognize pain - instantly. So I see that Mr. Snyder is in real, palpable pain. I don’t know why nor do I see why he is even here, since he is the one…but I hadn’t seen the guy for months and can’t say I was sad about it but now he is here again standing in front of my desk - the picture of misery. Stating that he’s changed would be the understatement of the year. He must have lost about 20 pounds; his baby face has changed into a gaunt, masculine face.
“Please, Gideon (he persistently refuses to call me by my last name) I really need to talk to him, it’s been over 9 months and I haven’t heard one single word from him.”
Am I supposed to feel satisfaction seeing the guy squirm in front of me? I still can’t forgive him for what he’s done to our baby. But I am not satisfied; I only feel pity for him.
“Look, Mr. Snyder, maybe it’s hard to understand, but my chief is definitely NOT here! He is still abroad and although I know when he is coming back, I won’t tell you.”
“But…”
“What’s with these ‘buts’ all the time, Mr. Snyder? “
“I know, you hate me, and I can understand why, but I have waited without bothering you for months and now… (now his underlip is quivering and I am prepared to reach for the box of tissues when he fortunately controls himself.)…I can’t… now… I can’t…”
“Hate is a strong word, Mr. Snyder, and I don’t hate you, I only think you are the wrong guy for Reid. And I happen to be right, right? But tell me, what can’t you do?” I am really interested in what he couldn’t do.
“I can’t keep going the way I have since Reid left. (As if he senses that his statement lacks an explanation that would impress me he adds)
I can’t sleep anymore, I can’t eat, all I can do is thinking of him and…”
I believe him but that doesn’t change the crucial point:
“Listen, if he was here I would ask him if he wanted to speak to you. But he’s not. So you can’t do anything but wait until he returns. And I am not a psychic, so I don’t know if he will want to see you then.”
“But could you please promise me to not interfere when he’s back and I try to talk to him?”
“I have never interfered in Reid’s life - believe it or not - and what makes you think Reid would tolerate anybody’s interference in his life?” (Except you, you little shit?)
“I think there is a reason he calls you Cerberus…” he smiles then and I see the hint of a reason why Reid has fallen for him. Luke Snyder is charming, even if he uses his charms to mess with Reid’s life.
Well, there are five people I would go all-out for: My mum, Jeff, who is the love of my life, Michael - my oldest brother, Eva - my little sister and Reid Oliver.
I know it sounds probably weird, but yes, Reid Oliver, the world-class neurologist has grown on me, and he needs to be protected from people who hurt him and most importantly from himself. The way I feel about Reid might seem weird because he doesn’t even know that I am his designated protector. Maybe he senses it a bit. What can I say? I adore him and I love him - in a totally nonsexual way, btw. And that’s not because I don’t see that he’s a fine, attractive man, but because I am with Jeff, my boyfriend for over 12 years now and we love each other - plain and simple! And also because sex has never been an issue between Reid and me. However I‘ve liked tall, strong guys my whole life, can’t help it, so the lean, small-boned Reid never attracted me this way. Maybe I think of him as being like a baby brother because of our beginnings, the way we met. Additionally being the second youngest of six children myself, cuddling my “adopted” brother is nice for a change. Maybe it’s in the genes - being 6.5 feet I tend to cuddle smaller creatures. I am literally drawn to them. Always have been. So I responded to Reid’s helplessness instantly. All Mastersons are carers, it's just the way we are.
The day Reid and I met my life was basically changed.
Sighing I wonder, why nobody can protect another human being from the kind of mess Reid is in - a mess incarnated in this handsome blond man standing in front of me?
I’d worked at Mass Gen for many years when the 911 call came in an hour before my shift ended and I cursed all the idiots who didn’t deserve their driver licenses. I wanted to go home, enjoy a beer, make dinner and wait for Jeff to come home and our weekend to begin. The first weekend off I had in weeks. And then this: A car-crash on an arterial highway, a truck, a bus and several cars involved. I had seen a lot so far, but this was something else. 15 dead people and 30 severely injured ones.
I’ll never forget the moment the paramedics rushed him in: “Colleague involved, go ahead! We’re losing him! Hurry up!”
And there on the stretcher lay Dr. Reid Oliver, our best neurosurgeon and the rudest one.
Phil, the paramedic told me later:
You and Milo, Dr. Milo Batic, the second genius of Massachusetts General Hospital, but far more sociable had been on your way out of town when you were involved in the accident jammed and trapped in your car, smashed to pieces, literally, the car and the two of you.
You and Milo Batic, the hotshot and the small dreamer walking two feet above earth were mostly seen in tandem walking through the hospital, you talking and Milo nodding.
Phil shivered describing the scene he had found: You were terribly distorted, had obviously tried everything to get nearer to Milo, it must have hurt unbelievably. But there you lay; your upper body was splayed across the gear change and you held the dead man in your arms. The rescue guys needed an hour to cut you out of that damn metal casket, while you slipped in and out of consciousness, murmuring, begging: “Stay with me!”
But Milo couldn’t, he was gone.
And although it was obvious that you meant him, the dead man in your arms, your pleading did something to me. I listened to Phil and suddenly I imagined hearing your silent whisper:
“Stay with me, please, please stay with me…”
“You know, Gideon he continued this faint, half-unconscious plea in the ambulance while we were rushing him to the hospital really got to me. I was sitting beside him, holding the drip bottle, trying to soothe his pain at least a bit, and whispering unintelligible words although I knew there was no help for this kind of pain. It was terrible and heartbreaking, Gideon!”
Back then I called Jeff to tell him it would be a long night and I waited for you to come out of the emergency surgery. I didn’t leave the unit but stayed with you until the following morning.
It was as if you fought the anesthesia, being incredibly restless.
It was a mystery to me; you were supposed to be totally unconscious for a long time since your colleagues kept you heavily sedated because the pain would have killed you.
“Milo…?” was your first thought, question and word waking up.
“Dr. Oliver, it’s Gideon Masterson, you’re in the ICU…”
“Where is Milo?”
What was I supposed to say? It’s incredibly hard to tell healthy relatives the truth but telling a man who should concentrate his efforts on surviving himself that his friend or maybe his lover was dead was even worse. So I hesitated too long - obviously.
“He didn’t make it?”
“No, he didn’t. I am very sorry. He was already gone when the paramedics got you out of the car. I am really sorry for your loss!”
“They should have saved him, not me!” You continued as if you hadn’t heard my answer.
Then you closed your eyes and retreated to a place where only you and Milo had access.
I stayed with you; I was there when you came out of the second surgery and the third one…I finally lost count.
But then on the very day you woke up from the latest ordeal they put you through I had my day off. Coming out of the shower with Jeff I was pissed when the hospital called. But when they told me it was about you, I kissed my beloved man, gobbled down my cereal and biked to the hospital.
“Come on Gid, our famous but severely injured patient, Dr. Reid Oliver, has asked for the “huge giant of a nurse ….”
I was speechless wondering what you wanted from me.
When I entered the ICU you stared me down looking tiny and so fucking injured.
“Where were you?”
Well, that had been unexpected, but the combination of your weak, mistreated body and your angry, obnoxious behavior made me smile.
“Hey, sue me, but today is my day off.”
“Sorry - but you seem the only halfway competent man around…”
“Is this a compliment or a hidden insult?”
You ignored my question not in the mood for a little bantering.
“Tell me about Milo - Dr. Batic - why didn’t he make it? …Please!”
“All I know is when they finally got through to you, he was already gone.”
You kept staring at me searching my face for indications of a lie before you nodded almost imperceptively and closed your eyes. I could see, that even closing your eyes hurt you and then I saw tears searching their way down your face. You couldn’t wipe them away, since both your hands and arms were taped.
“Do you want me to wipe them away?”
You deeply inhaled and uttered a sound, a mix of snort, sigh, sorrow and desperation that was so heartbreaking that I didn’t wait for an answer but wiped away your tears that refused to stop.
“You were very close…were the two of you in a relationship?”
I know I could ask you that, you never kept it a secret to be gay, neither had I.
It took you a while to regain control.
“We’ve known each other since we were two years old…” it was hard for you to use past tense, for you he was probably still alive.
“Do you know what caused his death? They won’t tell me, since I am not family. Can you believe that? They know we worked together for years, we are best friends and they dare to throw that shit into my face…”
Your anger covered your desperation, over-weighed your pain. And I understood you so well.
“I have no access to the medical report, but a friend of mine works in pathology…”
(multi-fractured spine…)
“Thanks! As for…We weren’t lovers.”
You left it with that remark.
Many months later you told me about Milo’s last minutes.
“Milo! Stay with me, I hear the ambulances. They will get us! Stay! You know I need you in my life to save me from messing it up.”
“Reid, kiss me…”
There was no time and place to show your astonishment, to ask: ”What?”
So you only bent down and did it, you kissed him.
You kissed him carefully, slowly, trying to not hurt him with movements.
“I don’t feel any pain, Reid!”
So you kissed him deeper, thoroughly, showing him that he was a desirable man, even if he’d always doubted it.
“I love you, always have…”
You told me that was the moment you realized Milo knew he was dying. Being in love with each other had never been an issue between the two of you, at least not an explicit one, admitting it now - it was his way of telling you that he was dying and wanted you to know it. You tried everything to make his last moments something else, you held him and kissed him, kissed him…. kissed him until he didn’t respond anymore.
Even after three years you can’t think of this moment without freezing and zooming out.
“I’ll never forgive myself that I couldn’t help him!”
“Look at it this way: You gave him the best moment of his life. He died knowing that he wasn’t alone. He died in the arms of the man he’d loved his whole life. It’s painful for you, but for him, I am sure it was exactly what he wanted and needed in that very moment.”
I know you didn’t see it that way and still don’t, but you’ve overcome the rancor at least, you don’t blame fate and Heaven anymore for taking Milo from you, at least you don’t do it explicitly.
“We were always close, like identical twins, I couldn’t imagine a life without him. I took it for granted that he’d be always there with me, for me. I was such a fool!”
In moments like these there are no words, so I kept silent but didn’t release your hand that I’d been holding for quite some time.
I kept looking at you but was unable to say anything that made any sense.
You know, I was aware of the rumors of you being an ass sometimes and giving the staff a hard time when you detected ‘incompetence’ as you used to call it. I heard a hundred times that you made nurses cry and Milo Batic always made it up to them with his awkward kindness. I also assumed that you’d probably forget my name, but it was then when you eventually stopped crying that all that ceased to matter. All that mattered was that you were a physically and emotionally hurting and devastated person who was alone and needed someone to lean on.
The rest is history.
I asked the COS to become responsible for your care as long as you stayed in the hospital. He wasn’t surprised; maybe he was happy to have someone take on the challenge of a difficult colleague and patient. So I took you to physiotherapy, I lifted you in and out of the bath, carried you in my arms countless times - you were just a handful. You didn’t kick, you rarely complained, you simply accepted me being a new part of your life. I can’t remember one single time either of us felt embarrassed at the intimacy this unexpected situation caused. In the end we were both medical professionals and in moments like those there was no place and time for embarrassment and shyness. So as a result, I am the man who knows every single inch of your body. It has become a great body now, but back then…well you looked like the gnawed off Hansel having lost your Gretel.
I think the reason why Jeff and I work so well is that he’s my emotional twin. The first time I told him about what had happened to you, he melted and the first time he saw you, he melted even more. “So that’s supposed to be the scary doc who makes the nurses cry?” Jeff whispered to me raising his brow. We’d invited you over for Thanksgiving. Two hours later the two of you were bonding over Jeff’s chessboard while I sat close to my man fondling his back and watched the both of you getting along amazingly well. Later Jeff praised himself for giving you a hard time to win, but I believe you only had an attack of courtesy.
However - it took you long months to recover physically and it took you over a year staying abroad to recover mentally. Lately I am not sure if you’ve recovered emotionally, but coming back from “La Place” after your first stay there you looked so much better, were so much calmer, balanced. *
Back then, you were damaged in all regards. Although you were fully restored at least by AMA standards, I saw you start trembling when people asked you to get back in the operating room. I witnessed you losing tracks. And after the COS forced you to see a psychologist, it got even worse. I don’t know what the two of you, Dr. Goldman and you talked about, but I could tell it didn’t help.
“The point is, Gid, what has my childhood to do with Milo being demolished and ripped out of my life? He was my childhood and my youth and… so why am I supposed to ‘learn to cope with my loss’? I don’t want to deal with it!” You had been so upset and bewildered.
And then I realized you were slithering into deep depression after realizing that you couldn’t stand the pressure in the operating room anymore and therefore had to quit your career as a neurosurgeon. So both of us, Jeff and I, were deeply concerned and finally I called Michael, my oldest brother, who I hadn’t seen in years, yet I am very close to.
Well, I called him and asked him to take you in as long as you needed to get better, because I knew you wouldn’t recover being reminded of Milo’s death and your “failure in the operating field” every day.
I wasn’t sure if Michael would take you in, since it was clear you didn’t want to become a member of his community “La Place”. But he agreed to help you and even sent someone to pick you up in Boston. One of the ‘Brothers’ visited his family at home and took you with him after his stay was over.
We had no contact while you were there but I can tell you were changed when you came back, totally changed in a good way. You stayed there for over a year and Michael only sent you back when he was sure you would make it. So you returned, even skinnier, with your head shorn, but with a stable mind and applied for a professorship in neurology at Harvard. Well since then this Zen-like attitude has become your second nature, and I can live with that, although I miss your snarky and obnoxious behavior sometimes. It was so funny - at least if you’re not the one on the receiving end.
The most absurd thing of all? The disaster of your life made you a very wealthy man.
You had assured your hands with a ridiculously high sum and together with Milo’s life assurance, you hadn’t even known he had one, and the damages you obtained from the trucking company who had caused the fateful accident meant that you didn’t need to worry about money ever again. Yeah, as cynical as it may sound the tragedy made you a millionaire. So you had gotten the best medical care available, even though you were still forced to quit surgery. I know you were often ready to give up and jump from the Hancock Tower and I thank God every day that you didn’t and that I had finally had the guts to call Michael.
Back from ‘La Place’ Harvard happily hired you.
And then you asked me to work with you and I didn’t need a minute to think about it, so I changed my job, became your assistant and since then I am with you, not always by your side, but within sight.
You bought several houses on Green Hill and Jeff and I moved in two doors next to you.
Our brotherhood isn’t one-sided at all, we give each other so much, you got Jeff a new job and we give you the family you don’t have. Well, we couldn’t protect you from being hurt again, emotionally, but one of us will always be there to hold you and to tell you it will be okay some day. Of course I know it wasn’t HIS fault alone. You were an adult, a reasonable and smart man, when you got yourself into this mess, but I am not objective at all, when it comes to you and Luke Snyder.
And again you needed Michael to get back on track, a shorter period this time, but yes, after finishing your sabbatical term you went to your shelter hidden in some strange high mountains belonging to a beautiful landscape in France.
It’s not an easy thing to do - staying professional while talking to Luke Snyder. But as I said before, I feel pity for him this time because he looks like shit. I ignore his ‘Cerberus’-comment; only you are allowed to call me that, so I just stare at him, unimpressed by his smile.
“I don’t know, what he’s told you about what has happened…”
“Mr. Snyder, don’t do this. Don’t try to explain yourself to me - I am the wrong person. There is nothing you can do but wait until he comes back and hope he’ll talk to you.”
Finally he gets lost but a week after your return he’s back again and I do know that I can’t keep him away from the door behind me.
And as if the devil has his say in this, your door opens and the colleague you have had an appointment with leaves your office.
“Gideon - please reschedule the appointment with Mr. Baxter tomorrow…”
You stop in the middle of your sentence and I don’t need to turn back to know, you are totally unprepared to meet Luke Snyder.
You sharply inhale but say nothing. Shit! Should I have warned you while you were in conversation with Duke Baker?
I hope you have your fiddling-urge under control; I simply don’t want Luke Snyder to know how much he affects you, especially not after you’ve been gone for almost a year.
Of course Mr. Snyder starts babbling first, stating the obvious:
“Reid! You’re back!”
“Well, I can hardly deny that. Hello to you too, Luke.”
Thank God I hear amusement in your voice. But wasn’t your amusement the beginning of that crazy thing between you and lil’ Snyder over two years ago when Luke Snyder showed up - unannounced in your office? Okay, my ears are reaching Dumbo-like size and I’ll be prepared this time to have my say in all this.
“Please, can I have a minute?”
Since when does Luke Snyder settle for “minutes”? The first time he wanted “minutes” turned out to be years…
“Actually I have an appointment in an hour, so there isn’t much time.”
As if that qualifies as an allowance Luke Snyder is through the door of Reid’s office and I am left to do nothing but hope this might go well.
Only seconds after the door is closed, I am startled to notice the inconspicuous green light blinking on the intercom.
This is interesting, very interesting!
Since a student tried to blackmail you with sexual harassment in your first year as a professor at Harvard and only the fact that she could finally be convinced of your undeniable and untreatable gayness prevented you from getting into a mess, you and I have an arrangement. When you are uncomfortable with a visitor and every time you have an appointment with a student, I listen in on it.
Maybe it’s an accident, maybe you’ve turned on the speaker unintentionally, but somehow I doubt it, you want me to witness what Luke has to say to you.
Do I care? Do I feel ashamed being the overhearer of a probably emotional encounter?
NO!