Chapter Text
The night was moving surprisingly slowly.
Dennis wouldn't say that out loud, for fear of jinxing the rest of their shift, but he couldn't help but think about it every time he looked at the clock and it had barely moved. During most shifts he would blink and an hour had passed.
Now, it was just past 3am and it felt like it had been for an impossibly long time.
He was tired, certainly, but no more than usual. His sleep schedule was still solidly screwed up after too long scraping by on restless nights spent keeping an ear out for danger instead of properly sleeping. And while it sucked that he still hadn't managed to rediscover being well rested, it did mean he wasn't a walking zombie when he had to jump in on nights.
Not that he did it often. This was only his third time. More were no doubt in his future, though. Pretty much everyone else on days was happy to duck their head any time a volunteer was needed.
This was the first time he'd regretted taking on a night shift though. He was bordering on bored as he finished updating the chart of a patient sleeping off a nasty high – an uncomplicated, noncombatant patient.
Technically it was a good thing. In reality it just felt...weird.
Tame.
With a sigh, Dennis stood from the computer and resigned himself to checking up on the kid that had gagged no less than four times in his direction when he'd been in there last. Test results said the flu. His instincts said he was going to be vomited on the second he stepped in there to report that.
“Where's Abbot?” Ellis practically stomps over to the nurse's station and leans in beside him like she has the weight of the world on her shoulders.
Dennis resists the urge to shift away. Trinity tended to hold her bad moods in her shoulders and, more importantly, elbows. She wasn't even lashing out half the time, just catching the nearest person (Dennis, usually) when she sprawled out, all tense and bony. Ellis wasn't likely to elbow him in the stomach by accident just because she was angry, though, so flinching away wouldn't be a good look.
“In with the potential organ donor's wife.”
“Which will take awhile because she's freaking out...” She groans, looking back at the closed door of the room she'd just come from. “Perfect.”
Lena looks up from the computer just long enough to give Ellis a quick once over, frowning. “Pope in there?”
“Yup.” Ellis rolls her eyes. “Between the wife and then completing all the other shit that's piled up, Abbot's not making it in there for awhile. Which means we've lost that room for no good fucking reason for who knows how long.”
“Uh, why, exactly?” Dennis can't imagine why she'd be this pissed about something that needs a second opinion from Abbot. It's not exactly a rare occurrence that a room is occupied for way too long just because an attending needs to take a look at the patient.
And it's not like they were exceedingly desperate for the room.
“He refuses to be seen by anyone but Abbot.” Ellis answers, like it isn't infuriatingly vague.
“Why?” Dennis prompts again.
“Because he's antisocial.” Shen pipes in, not skipping a beat as he heads between patients even though he can't have heard the entire conversation.
“Because we'd probably have to report whatever we find.” Ellis corrects bluntly.
“And Abbot wouldn't?”
“Abbot is his cousin or something. He covers for the guy.”
“Allegedly.” Lena stresses, sounding very much like she's had to correct Ellis on this before.
Dennis sighs and knocks his fist on the counter a few times, trying to talk himself out of what he's already decided to do. Abbot was going to be occupied for awhile and the guy had already been waiting way too long if he'd been stabbed or shot, like was being implied.
“Let me try?” He offers, internally kicking himself.
Lena sighs. Ellis laughs. “Your funeral, man.”
“Ha ha.” Dennis responds flatly. She was probably kidding.
He points out what patient he'd been about to check on and asks her to cover before heading off.
“We'll make Abbot pay for it!” Ellis shouts. There was a beat, and then she groans when she realizes the patient he'd swapped her for. “Nevermind, you deserve it!”
He turns to give her an unapologetic half-shrug before steeling himself and knocking on the door to this mystery patient's room as he enters.
“Hi, I'm –”
“No.” The guy interrupts him, not exactly mean but sharp. Stern.
He's sitting on the exam bed like he's trying not to touch it, hunched over with one hand pressed to his side and the other tense against his thigh. His shirt is too dark to see it but it's almost certainly bloodstained to hell. This Pope looks so much like Abbot it's uncanny, just younger with darker hair and a way-too-intense look on his face.
He stamps down the instant wash of embarrassment. Getting scolded by an authority figure was still one of his hang-ups. Which he'd argue up and down was pretty understandable, but Trinity mocked him for at least once a week.
This was going to feature in some nightmares for sure.
Dennis holds his hands up in mock surrender, shoulders high and tense. “Listen, I know you only want Dr. Abbot to see you. But he's not coming any time soon and you're bleeding. Can I at least –”
“No.”
“Were you shot?”
“No.” The guy is definitely irritated now. His jaw is clenched and he's staring down Dennis in earnest.
Sighing, he crosses his arms. It's not the first time he's been in a similar situation, considering his work with the street team. A few of the regulars they treated would only tolerate one or two people and refuse to be helped by someone else. They needed to built up comfort.
They also needed to trust that they wouldn't be ratted out.
In a last ditch effort, he decides to lean into the stonewalling. “Ok, keep with that answer. Can you tell me how you were hurt?”
“No...” The answer is more hesitant – thrown off.
“Great. Sounds like I have enough plausible deniability that if I do patch you up, the details can stay between us.”
Abbot covering for an evil criminal mastermind seemed unlikely and it wouldn't be the first time he's turned a blind eye to something he technically shouldn't have. An unspoken requirement of the street team was being willing to bend the mandatory reporting rules for things short of child abuse. Sometimes treating the patient was more important than following every step of the rule book.
At least McKay would be proud. Maybe that was worth knowing exactly how Abbot's angry face would look directed at him.
Pope's eyebrows furrowed.
“Look, it's silly for you to wait around for Dr. Abbot if you don't need to.”
He's not immediately shot down again, but it's clear he's not convinced the guy yet.
Time to pull out his second best trick, then.
This one tended to be more useful for older patients and stressed out parents, but it was worth a shot. He was tapped out on arguments otherwise.
“Honestly, you'd be doing me a favor. If I leave now, I'm off to handle a patient that is almost certainly going to projectile vomit all over me.”
Pope grimaces a little, showing more emotion than he has this whole time.
Bingo.
“I've been on a hot streak of not having to change my scrubs mid-shift. Please.”
Unsurprisingly, Pope doesn't verbally admit defeat. He does shift, though, putting his injured side closer to Dennis and lifting his hand.
Making himself the butt of the situation triumphs again. Trinity would be elated.
“Thank you.” He says earnestly, rushing to put on a pair of gloves this begrudging permission is revoked.
Pope's expression changes slightly. It's as intense as ever, but it's less scathing and more scrutinizing.
Dennis is a little terrified that he won't find whatever he's looking for. He's gotten better under pressure but he still fumbles with the gloves for a second longer than normal under the observation.
Still, he at least has the sense to kick the stool into place before sitting. He'd done too many awkward little shuffles on those damn things. “I'll check it over first to see what needs done.”
Pope nods slightly, which is honestly more than he was expecting. Dennis nods back, relieved.
He takes in the way the fabric of the shirt is practically glued to the wound. It helped limit the bleeding, but it wouldn't be pleasant to remove. “It might be painful as I lift your shirt. You'll probably start bleeding again, so I'll try to be fast, but if you need a break –”
“I won't.”
“Right.” Dennis leans in – not as close as he normally would.
'If they're cagey it's better to keep a ways back.' McKay's voice echoes in his head. Nervous people acted on instinct and sometimes those instincts were violent.
He took a deep breath to steady himself, trying to be subtle about it. No doubt Pope could see it anyway, considering his gaze was still boring a hole into him.
As carefully as he could without needlessly prolonging the process, he peeled back the ruined fabric. Blood bubbled from the wound with renewed vigor but didn't come out in a rush. Couldn't be too deep of an injury, then.
The shirt left less debris than Dennis was used to seeing. Bits of string and fuzz were matted against the skin. It must have been pretty nice pre-slice.
“I'm going to feel around the wound to get a better sense of it now. Offer is still on the table if you need a break at any point.”
No reply. But at least he wasn't ready to kick him out again.
Dennis began to carefully press around the area. Pope's face was pinched but not giving too much away in terms of pain.
It was clearly more of a slicing than a stabbing. The knife unknown object had made about a six inch long laceration.
He sat back, create a mental to-do list. “The good news is nothing vital was hit. You do need stitches, though.”
Pope just blinked, seemingly unsurprised. Which made sense, considering his alleged history.
Dennis rolled over to the supply cart to retrieve a placeholder bandage, a little less worried about making any sudden movements (and looking like a dork). The guy didn't seem dangerous or unpredictable at the moment.
He peeled open the sterile pad, Pope watching him carefully the entire time.
“Alright, hold this here for a second. I'll go get some pain meds –”
“No. I can handle it.” He seemed agitated at the idea of medication, shifting in place with a wild look in his eyes. The hand now holding the bandage against his side was pressing in hard, like the pain would ground him.
“But that doesn't mean you should.” Dennis pointed out, eyebrows furrowing. “How about a local anesthetic at least? It'll help numb the area but it won't impair your thinking.”
Pope seemed to consider it, at least. He relaxed on the pressure to his side.
“It'll be a few localized shots around the injury itself. Nothing altering or invasive.”
If he'd seen Abbot before, he might know all that, but it couldn't hurt to reassure him.
“I don't need it.”
“But do you want it?”
Pope's breath hitched just slightly, like he was startled by the question.
Then, finally, “Fine.”
Dennis grinned and nodded, peeling off his gloves and dumping them in the trash. “Great. I'll be right back.”
He stood up and turned to go, barely getting his hand on the door before Pope spoke again. “Dr...?”
“Dennis.” He flushed, spinning back around a little too quickly to not seem flustered. “Whitaker, I mean. Dr. Whitaker. Obviously Dennis is my...” He waves his hand vaguely.
“Thanks, Dr. Whitaker.” Pope says slowly, like the words are foreign. He's not smiling, exactly, but his face is more of a neutral-leaning-towards-amusement than a true neutral.
“Happy to help, uh...”
Pope was almost certainly a nickname. Was he allowed to use it?
“Andrew.”
Apparently not. Good thing he asked.
“Andrew. I will be back soon.”
He slips out of the room, smiling wider than he logically should be. Sure, he always liked winning over difficult patients, but this was different. Andrew was...interesting.
Lena looked up as he breezed past, playfully narrowing her eyes. “Overachiever.”
“It's the day shift in me.” Dennis quips, feeling confident enough to bite back.
“Take it back there. We don't want it.”
“I'm going to give you the local anesthetic now. You'll feel a pinch, but it should definitely hurt less than the laceration.”
“Laceration...” Andrew repeats the word like it's kind of funny.
It probably is, considering they both know what kind of injury it is specifically.
“Laceration inflicted by an unknown object.” Dennis confirms for him. Reassuring him his trust wasn't misplaced.
“You can tell what it is.”
It's not a question. Andrew seems to give into the amusement a little though, a small half smirk finally schooling his face into something less serious.
Dennis shrugs as he reaches for the suture tools, finally ready to start. “I'm just a first year doctor. To be sure, I'd need to run it by my attending.”
“Jack.”
“Yeah. It's ultimately his judgment call to make.”
The mention of Jack has brought back the furrowed brow. He looks away for the first time in awhile – maybe even since the start. His eyes dart across the wall. “I didn't deserve it. The laceration.”
Dennis' eyes widened. “I didn't assume you did.”
It's not even a lie. He's not in the habit of assigning fault to most injuries anyway. So, sure, it seems like Andrew had quite the reputation with the staff but he didn't know enough to even guess at the context of his previous visits.
Not to mention he trusted Abbot. Family or not, he didn't seem the type to invite a monster that deserved to be stabbed into his co-workers vicinity.
Trinity was going to give him hell for trusting a man over the red flags of the situation, but that was fine. It feels a little bit like giving her enrichment time when she gets to freak out over non-issues.
Andrew's eyes slip back to him.
Dennis glances up and his breath catches, drying his mouth out. There's a sort of open awe to his look now, like somehow he'd stumbled onto the right answer to an impossible question.
He's leaned in closer, too. Only a little, but enough to feel important.
Damn it.
Dennis blushes furiously and ducks his head to hide it, focusing back in on the finishing the sutures like he should. Because he's a doctor and this was a patient.
A patient that looked like his fucking boss.
As if summoned by his inappropriate thoughts, the door opens behind him.
“Alright Pope, let's get this over with.” Abbot steps into the room, sounding more put out than Dennis had ever heard before.
“Actually, we're just finishing up.” Dennis says, nodding to Andrew.
Abbot raises his head, eyebrows intently furrowed in an incredibly similar way to Andrew's. “Whitaker?” He takes used supplies on the nearby tray with a sort of confused awe. “How did you manage this?”
“I can be very convincing.”
His point is a little undercut by Andrew shifting away like being he'd rather be anywhere else than near him.
“Uh huh.” Abbot regards him for a moment, expression inscrutable. “So what did he get into this time?”
Andrew tenses even more, fists clenching and unclenching. Dennis peels off his gloves and turns to Abbot apologetically. “He's your family, right? And he was my patient, so...” He shrugs. “It's not my place to say.”
He's a little nervous that Abbot won't exactly like that answer. Behind him, Andrew sucks in a surprised breath.
For a moment, Abbot is completely still. Then, he huffs out a laugh and nods. “Fair enough, kid. I'm not used to him not being my patient. Bandage him up and then grab me. I need to talk to my brother alone when you're done.”
Brother. Not a cousin.
He kind of wants the floor to swallow him whole.
“Will do, Dr. Abbot.”
The door sounds overly loud when it clicks shut again, Abbot leaving as quickly as he'd come in. Andrew is still staring in that direction with a frown.
Dennis clears his throat softly to get his attention, feeling as awkward as he had when he's first stepped into the room. “Just the bandage left, like he said.”
Andrew is also as tense as he had been at the start. It was like all the progress they'd made was completely shattered.
Still looking away, he nods in acknowledgment.
Dennis finishes up as quickly and quietly as he can, adhering the bandage over the area securely even as he worries about letting his hands linger even a millisecond. “You might know the drill already, but no getting the stitches wet for 48 hours. No bathing or swimming until they're out.”
“Jack can handle that.” Andrew responds flatly, adjusting his ruined shirt back down over his stomach.
His eyes flicker to Dennis again.
“I could too.” He blurts out before he can stop himself. Before Andrew can look away again. “I'm normally on day shift. If those hours work better for you...you can ask for me.”
Andrew doesn't respond. He also doesn't look away again.
With a weak smile, Dennis stands again. “I'll go get Abbot for you. It was nice meeting you.”
He darts out the door before Andrew's continued lack of a response could possibly hurt his feelings.
Because it shouldn't.
Abbot is waiting directly outside the door when he exits, leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. He'd been frowning, but he smiles at Dennis when he comes out.
“All done.” Dennis announces needlessly.
“I see that.” Abbot responds, not unkindly. He's looking Dennis up and down like a puzzle to solve.
It's familiar and also not.
“I'm sorry if I overstepped. You were just so busy – ”
“You didn't overstep. You did great.” He knocks a fist playfully against Dennis' shoulder. “If you want on night shift permanently, you don't have to try and impress me.”
“I wasn't –”
“You've already got a place on nights if you want it.”
Dennis' mind is still searching for a polite way to say absolutely not by the time Abbot disappears back into the room.
Back to business, then.
He only gets to check on one patient before running into trouble, which is one more than he thought he'd manage and about 70 fewer than he'd like.
“Look who it is!” Ellis nudges Shen as they pop out of the break room. “We thought you were dead for sure.”
Dennis narrows his eyes. “And you didn't think to check on me?”
“I was too busy de-barfing myself, asshole.” Ellis gestures to her clean scrubs dramatically.
He smothers a laugh.
“And we heard the guy is a neat freak. Thought we'd give him time to clean up the crime scene. Save our crew the trouble, you know?” Shen takes a sip of his coffee in a poor attempt to hide his self-satisfied smirk and heads back into the fray.
“This is why night shift has a bad reputation!” Dennis calls after him, not at all loudly.
Ellis gasps dramatically, but when Dennis turns to grab another patient he catches sight of Lena nodding in solemn agreement.
The end of the shift is more of a welcome relief than usual. Things had picked up considerably post-Andrew, but it wasn't enough to actually distract him from thinking about him.
Which made every time he made eye contact with Abbot a little weird.
It's not like he's thinking about Andrew in a weird way. He's just thinking about him. A lot.
Objectively more than he should.
He darts out of the locker room in the hopes of escaping before Trinity can see him and somehow pull all of his thoughts out of his head in an entirely unprompted verbal vomit session.
Naturally he nearly runs straight into her in the process.
“Jesus fuck, Huckleberry.”
“Sorry!” He stumbles back, accidentally dropping his backpack. “Just trying to get home before I crash.”
“Except you're beholden to the bus schedule when I'm not hauling you around.” Trinity points out suspiciously.
“He's worried we're going to try and convince him to join the dark side.” Ellis jokes as she walks up to join them.
Shen trails behind her. He waves at Trinity, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Watch out, we've almost got him.”
Trinity glares before she can help herself, quickly redirecting it at Dennis in a silent warning.
“Ok, a few hours ago you wanted me dead.” Dennis fires back before he can remember that he really doesn't want to bring this up around Trinity yet.
Shen slaps him on the back. “We didn't want you dead. We were just letting nature take it's course.”
“What?” Trinity asks tightly, glare intensifying. She's ping-ponging the look between the three of them.
“Went above and beyond for a notorious bad boy.” Ellis leans forward like she's whispering conspiratorially even though her volume doesn't change at all. “Probably got himself a stalker for his efforts.”
“Gossiping is beneath all of you!” Abbot cuts in, not slowing down in his walk out of the building.
Dennis nods in agreement while Trinity immediately waves him off.
Ellis doesn't flinch. “No it isn't.”
“No it isn't?” Shen echoes, sounding confused by the very suggestion.
“It's beneath me.” Dennis lies petulantly, taking the moment of distraction to get the hell out of there.
“This isn't over!” Trinity shouts after him. “I know where you sleep, idiot!”