Chapter Text
Dr. Anthony J. Crowley was anything but nervous. A bit apprehensive, sure. Curious about his new co-workers, absolutely. But never nervous. He had no reason to be. His record was only slightly muddied despite the brutal and often devastating field he had found himself in. Patients that were lucky enough to have him as their doctor often found themselves alive simply because Dr. Crowley willed it so. He did not make stupid mistakes, and he did not tolerate mediocrity. Whatever would be thrown at him here, he could take it. Because he was a trauma surgeon. He considered himself the toughest doctor in the hospital, no matter what day it was or which hospital he was employed with. In fact, the reason that he had left Tadfield Regional Medical Center after 5 years of being relatively happy there was a lack of excitement. He was bored.
He never expected to be here.
The whole reason he had gone to medical school in the first place was to help children. Sure, he had helped on a few peds cases here or there if a kid came in and needed a trauma evaluation. But that wasn’t what he had dreamed about. He’d wanted to be someone who could be a positive role model for kids who had grown up like he did, with no one around to possibly look up to. And then, in his third year of medical school, he found surgery.
“Ezra?” he’d said one Monday night out of the blue, while they were sharing Chinese take-out and pouring over notes together. It was right before their surgery shelf exam; their first big clinical exam of med school. “Yes, my dear?” Ezra’s voice was music to Anthony’s ears. The only sound he ever needed to hear. “I… I don’t think I want to be a pediatrician anymore,” he said, as golden eyes met deep ocean blue, “I think I want to do pediatric surgery.” Ezra’s smile grew wide and shone like the sun. “Well, then it’s settled. You’ve just found your calling.”
“Uh, doctor, hello?” Dr. Crowley didn’t seem to hear the scrub technician. “Is he nervous or something?” The nurse anesthetist whispered to the circulator. That seemed to snap Dr. Crowley out of his Ezra-induced flashback. “I’m not nervous, I don’t get nervous!” he snipped to his staff, ready to get his first operation at a new hospital underway. “Now let’s get this show on the road, shall we? Knife! No, not the 10 blade, I specifically asked for an 11 blade!” Fortunately, he wasn’t on trauma call today, and this was a run of the mill laparoscopic inguinal hernia repair. Easy enough. What wasn’t easy and what Dr. Crowley wasn’t looking forward to was having a very eager medical student, a third year named Adam Young, in his operating room asking him questions. He would have to get used to that.
His staff were in awe of him as he worked, lithe hands quick as lightning but the surest they’d ever seen. They watched as he completed his work, finishing with a smile. “Go ahead and close, Adam,” he said to the eager medical student. “Really?” came the reply, Adam’s eyes alight. “Yeah, just throw your subcuticular sutures in each small incision, should do the trick nicely. Besides, it looks like you have a great team on your side in case you really mess it up,” he winked at the young man. He wasn’t sure why he was in a good mood all of a sudden, though perhaps the questions he was able to answer for young Adam had perked him up more than he’d anticipated.
As he broke scrub for the first time in a new hospital, Dr. Crowley couldn’t help but to feel proud of himself. He smiled under his mask and announced to the staff of operating room 2, “Oh, and next time, I wouldn’t mind a little music while we work, huh? Queen’s Greatest Hits, anyone?” He was careful to include the ‘we’ in that statement. Though they all wore masks, he saw each one of them smile, some even with genuine warmth. “Won’t let you down boss,” the circulator smirked and saluted as Dr. Crowley grinned back, exiting the operating room. During his residency training he had done his fair share to alienate the nursing staff, and he was not about to repeat his past mistakes. Unfortunately for Dr. Crowley, his past had a way of haunting him; the spectre usually taking the form of a beautiful, fair-haired boy. His memory was suddenly aflame with the memory of Ezra’s face, glowing as if lit from within. The sudden searing image made Anthony want to cry out. He slowly gathered his wits, realizing it was probably about time to meet his new boss downstairs in the Emergency Department. Stealing a quick glance at the clock down the hall, Dr. Crowley couldn’t help but notice a man with golden curls hidden under his surgical cap as he disappeared around the corner.
***
Dr. Ezra Fell hummed to himself, as he did every morning, while he got ready for work. He simply adored his career as an OB/GYN, and he had adored it even more for the past 3 years now that he had the opportunity to work with medical students, residents, and even fellows! It was truly sublime. Though he must admit, operating was not his forte. He did well enough, never had any severe consequences, and was always well-versed on the latest operating techniques. He was proud to say that he was a blend of the old school and the new when it came to the practice of obstetrics and gynecology. What he loved about the operating room, and about State University Teaching Hospital was just that: the teaching of it all. He smiled softly to himself as he remembered that he would be working with his favorite resident this morning. His smile was reflected back in the locker room mirror as he played at his headband, hoping to catch each white-gold curl within the soft blue mesh of his surgical cap.
This Monday, this day in the OR, seemed different than others somehow. Slowly, he made the Sign of the Cross as his mouth fell agape. He had just happened to glance at the surgical board for the morning. The only information that he really needed to know was which operating room he was scheduled in at 0700. The thing he needed to know least of all in the entire universe was that his best friend throughout his undergraduate and medical school years, whom he hadn’t spoken a word to in 10 years, was operating in the room right next to his. As Dr. Fell closed his eyes he prayed for something he had never prayed for before. He prayed for a complication.
“ Oh God, please let one of us have something go wrong today. I simply cannot face him. Not here, not now!” His thoughts were racing, desperate, until he was brought back to Earth by a kind hand on his shoulder. “Dr. Fell, is everything alright?” came the calm voice of his most trusted resident, Dr. Device. Anathema, as she preferred everyone call her, was in her final year of training as an OB/GYN and applying to gynecological oncology fellowship programs. Ezra knew she would excel at her chosen career, and he had been her mentor from day one of her residency training. He secretly hoped she would be able to remain nearby for her training. “Oh, yes, yes dear, I’m so sorry, it’s just, we haven’t been in room 3 for quite a while now, have we?” Anathema’s only reply was simply to quirk an eyebrow. She was fairly certain they had performed an ovarian cyst removal in that same operating room last week, but she had a feeling something else was going on. Something much deeper. “Okay Dr. Fell, no problem, I’ll make sure the crew has everything just the way you like it,” she replied as cheerfully as possible while he continued to stare up at the screen. As if sheer will were enough to make that name change to any other name at all.
Dr. Fell let Dr. Device take the lead on this case, a run of the mill hysterectomy. He had performed plenty of them, she needed the experience, and honestly, his mind was still reeling. Had Anthony really started working here? Or were there many other ‘AJ Crowley, MD’s running around, doing work as surgeons? He figured not, though when last they spoke Anthony still had his heart set on pediatrics. Which was odd, considering the case he was slated for was a 59-year-old patient. Ezra tried to push it from his mind as he assisted Anathema but memories came back to him, as if they were bits of a dream. The warmth of a steady hand in his own, trembling. The fleeting union of lips. Confessions made in a darkened room. Feeling so, completely loved. “No!” he said aloud, suddenly. Anathema looked up at him, just about to cut the uterus free. “Is everything okay Dr. Fell?” she asked in a rush, tears almost apparent in her eyes. She was an excellent surgeon, of course everything was okay. “Yes, I’m so sorry my dear, I seem to have forgotten myself,” was the only explanation he could think of.
As they scrubbed out together, Anathema asked him again, “are you sure everything is okay Dr. Fell? You’ve been acting off since you saw the board this morning.” Dr. Fell’s only reply was to sigh heavily. He had hidden the truth long enough. He trusted Anathema, loved her like a sister, almost. She deserved the truth. “Let’s get a coffee, my dear,” he said with a weary smile, “we have some time before our next case. And there is so much that I need to tell you.”