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myficsTitle: Modern Medicine 4/6
Co-Written With: The absolutely lovely and talented![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dancinbutterfly
Rating: R
Pairing(s): Todd/Doug, JD/Elliot, Keith/Elliot, Turk/Carla.
Word Count: 6,316 of 31,805
Summary: After the events of My Self-Improvement, Doug and Todd try to hold together their budding relationship while JD tries to win back an old one.
Disclaimer: Bill Lawrence & NBC own Scrubs. Not for profit.
Thank You: Toagirlcalledkil for the amazing beta and dancinbutterfly for co-writing and kicking me into shape.
"Hello?" Molly says cheerfully. She's the type of person who loves phone calls. They're like little surprises in electronic form and she always answers as if she can't wait to find out what the surprise is going to be. "Molly Clock here. What's up?"
Todd pulls the paper towel away from his mouth and says, "I threw up." It's an odd way to start a conversation and he knows it, but he has no idea what he's supposed to say to her. He was going to try. They agreed on that. He was going to do that thing where he'd let Doug love him. It didn't work out too well for him, and he kind of feels like a puppy who messed the carpet after being repeatedly told not to. Only this is about a billion times worse and his messing also hurt the one person on the entire planet who could actually ever love him.
"Todd?" Molly asks and he can almost hear her sit up straighter. "Todd, take a slow, deep breath for me okay? Can you do that for me?"
Todd obliges, unable to ignore the way his breath sounds like a ragged, sickly pant. He wonders if it sounds as bad through the phone. "I fucked up," he tells her. And okay, for all of Todd's talk to the ladies of Sacred Heart, he actually has a whole lot of respect for Molly and would, under any other circumstances, try to avoid using words like that in front of her. But really, it's the only word bad enough for what he did, and even then it's still not as horrible as the actual event itself was.
"Okay. Why don't you take a few more deep breaths and tell me how you fucked up," Molly says calmly. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not as bad as you think it is. Things rarely are. Once you tell me, it may seem less like a catastrophe and more like a regular old mistake."
Todd sighs. Oh, where to begin? Should he start with the part where he had a panic attack in the middle of sex and ran out on Doug? Or how about the part where Doug tried three times to show Todd that he still cared about him, and Todd shot him down every time? Maybe starting with the thing about oh, yeah, apparently Doug was in love with him and then segueing into exactly why it's a "was" instead of an "is" in there would be best. Probably best to start at the beginning, he supposes, give her the full tour of The Hell That is Todd's Brain.
"Doug sucked me off," he begins, because…well, that was the start of the trouble, wasn't it? "And then he tried to…well, he tried things. And I freaked out and he told me he loved me, and I left and he's been like, ridiculously awesome to me ever since, and I basically just told him to fuck off because he was completely useless and not even a real doctor, and if I were him, I wouldn't ever forgive me, and the really fucked up part is that I'm not even sure I want him to because in a way it'd be easier if he didn't."
"Hm." Is all Molly has to say for a long moment. "Can I ask you something personal here Todd?"
Todd says yes because at this point, he really has nothing left to lose. "I guess. But I really don't know what good it'll do."
"Of these three things, which scares you the most - never speaking to Doug ever again, having penetrative sex with Doug, or letting him hold you?" she asks curiously. "Ooh, and if you want, you can rank them on a scale of one to ten - like one being dropped in a pit of flesh eating crabs and ten being cuddled up safe and sound with your favorite stuffed animal."
Todd shifts to find a more comfortable position on the floor of the bathroom. "I don't know," he says with a shrug she can't see. "I…I've been okay with him holding me, I think. I mean, not always. Sometimes it really scares me, but usually I'm okay. And never speaking to him again…that's like a 1 and a 10 at the same time. Because…yeah, I really, really like him, and the thought of never being with him again…it's terrifying. But part of me really thinks it'd be easier to just go back to being numb to the world, and so that part of me almost wishes it would happen. And sex…that's like…if 1 is the worst, then it's like a negative eight thousand."
"So...I just want to be clear with the situation. He made a mistake and pushed too far sexually and you reacted badly. Have his gestures been sexual in nature? Because if they are, then I'd say you're well within your rights to react so intensely. Even if you weren't a survivor, sexual harassment is disturbing," Molly says firmly. "And if you really feel as though you were harassed, I think I'd have to recommend that you talk to Dr. Kelso."
Todd closes his eyes and thinks back. Were they? The first one hadn't been. It had been sort of sweet. And the second one…well, the second one had been kind of weird, but it hadn't been sexual harassment. The closest it'd been to it was when he called Todd "hot," but that hadn't been harassment or made Todd feel uncomfortable (it was more the general idea of being pursued, actually), and this last one had been…well, Todd thinks that some people might've found it romantic, actually, and he would've too if he was in any kind of mindset to be open to the possibility.
"No," he says finally. "They weren't sexual. They were sweet. Which was…actually kind of worse."
"Okay," Molly says thoughtfully. "You have an adverse reaction to sex and that is understandable but Todd, you've had sex before. With women, which is the sex your abuser was so it almost seems like counterintuitive reaction to me. And now you've made yourself sick over Doug being too kind to you. And I'm guessing it was genuine kindness, not patronizing or pitying kindness. I don't remember him that well but he doesn't seem like the type. Pity doesn't usually motivate beta males like Doug. They tend to save that for soup kitchens and food drives," she muses. "Anyway, the point is - it's not sex that messed you up. Right? So what we really need to be addressing with you is your intimacy issues." She pauses. "Do I sound like I'm close? This is so much harder when I can't see your face."
Todd sighs. Why does she always have to be right? "The sex…before. With the women, I mean. I…" He's not even sure if it's relevant to tell her this, but he knows now that he wants help. He's heard drug addicts talking about hitting rock bottom, and he's pretty sure this is his. "I was in control then. I was…doing the…you know. Initiating. And um…penetrating." That should not be so hard to say, he thinks. "I don't know if that helps you any or whatever, but…yeah, it's…it's hard. I mean…it's like…if he wants me, then there's got to be something wrong with him. And I guess that's a bad thing to think because the problem is totally me, but…"
There's a long silence. Then Molly speaks. "Is there something wrong with me?" she asks. "Because I like you, Todd. And I consider you a friend. And I think you're smart and interesting and no, I don't always like your sense of humor but I see all this good in you. Do you think I'm crazy or bad or broken inside because I think that about you?"
"I—" Todd freezes. "I didn't mean…I…no. You're not. But you don't want…it's not the same."
"Wanting is physical Todd. You're a doctor. You did a neurosurgery rotation. You know as well as any doctor that sexual desire is a chemical reaction to stimuli that takes place in the brain. Want is easy. Want doesn't take any work. I mean, come on, I wanted my last boyfriend. He was six feet tall with a dragon tattoo on his back and really amazing Roman features. He also liked to get drunk, beat guys up in dive bars, and get himself arrested. Also? He was really mean to my cat. But that's not the point. The point is that while I didn't like him, the sexual vibe was still there." She heaves a sigh. "There's no thought or consideration in something that's just physical, Todd. You know that. It takes a lot more to like a person. And I like you. So does Elliot and everyone else at Sacred Heart—especially Doug. How long has he known you?"
Todd knows she's right, but that doesn't make it any easier to accept. "We've worked here for five and a half years," he says after doing a quick count on his fingers. "I didn't know him before that."
"So five years isn't enough time for him to decide whether or not you were a decent human being?" Molly asks. "Not whether or not you think you're a decent human being - but for him to decide. You don't think five and a half years was enough? Okay. How many years do you think it would take, for Doug - an adult and a doctor - to make a decision like that do you think? How long did you know me before you decided I was decent? How about Dr. Turk? Or JD? Or the nurse, oh man I'm awful with names... Turk's wife?"
"'Til about the first time they helped me out," he says finally. "I mean, I probably knew before that, but that's what sort of…you know, proved it. But even if he thought I was a good person before, now he knows. He knows."
"Then he knows that your mother was an abusive bitch who didn't deserve a child as gentle and caring as you are." Molly says sharply, shocking Todd a little. He didn't think that therapists could say things like that. "And that you're a survivor. That's what he knows, Todd. You are not your abuse. You are Doctor Todd Quinlan and you are a good man. That's who you are and if you went in to work tomorrow and told every single person in the hospital what happened to you, not one of them would stop being your friend. Not. One."
"You can't know that," he sighs. "And even if you're right…what if I can't handle them knowing? Maybe they're okay with it, but I'm not."
"I'm not saying you should go in and do that. I'm just saying, you can't judge other people badly for reacting well to what happened." She sighs. "If you want so desperately to die alone, Todd, why are you calling me? Because this - this phone call - leads me to believe that you want something more than the shallow existence you had. Maybe it's Doug, maybe it's just a chance at a normal life. But if you keep being self-defeating you will never have it." He hears her take a deep breath. "Why are you calling me if you don't want me to help you? If you're going to fight the truth so hard?"
"I'm not fighting the truth," he insists. "I'm fighting your truth. Mine's entirely different. I…" he takes a deep breath and thinks. Really, and truly thinks, the kind that has a tendency to make him want to curl up into a ball for a few hours after he finishes, but he's not going to do that this time. He's going to be honest instead. "I don't want to die alone," he says quietly. "I sort of expected to, and then…there was this guy offering me a chance to not. And I thought I'd be okay, but…I wasn't. And I can't ask him to slow down, Molly, I just can't. It's not fair to him. But…but I want him." He rests his forehead against his knees as he speaks. "I want him so badly. I want to be good for him, and I know that I'm not. And I can't stand to have him…have him be with me when I'm not good."
"Then you have to listen," Molly chokes, and she's crying now. "Please, Todd. I want you to have this. I want you to have him. I want you to live happily ever after and if you don't listen you can't, so please. Please try?" She sniffles slightly and takes a few deep breaths. "I don't do this, Todd. I don't ever ever get emotionally involved with my patients. Ever. But I am and if you want him even half as much as I want you to have him, then you have to trust me."
"I trust you," Todd tells her. "I think I trust you more than I trust me." He sighs. "Please don't cry. I hate it when chicks cry." It's a stupid thing to say, but Todd feels stupid at the moment. What kind of guy makes women cry? Jerks and Todd. What a nice group to be a part of.
"Well, I hate it when people I care about hurt themselves." She chuckles and sniffs again. "If you trust me, then you need to start believing what I tell you about your innocence and your goodness and your complete lack of blame. I know it's not as simple as just 'Oh hi, I suddenly have rebuilt my shattered self-esteem from the ashes'. There are exercises you can do - written and mental - mantra, self-talk, journaling. It's scut work and it's hard but if you really do want him, you'll do it. I promise, I swear that you'll be happier eventually. Even if you lose him, you'll get healthier if you just let yourself put in some effort for it. It's like that old joke - How many therapists does it take to change a light bulb?"
"Just two," Todd replies. "One to change it and a second one to ask the first how it made them feel." He laughs, but it quickly turns into a groan. "You're right," he admits. "I hate it, but you are."
"I was going to say one," Molly says softly. "It only takes one therapist to change a light bulb, Todd, but the light bulb has to be willing to change. So," she asks, brightness flooding back into her voice, "How about it, Light Bulb? Are you willing to change?"
It's not fair, Todd thinks. He shouldn't have to change. He should be like everyone else he knows, already happy and carefree. He should not have to work to be happy. But Todd also knows that life isn't fair, and the only way to break even is to fight for his right to do so. And…and he thinks it's going to be worth it. Even if Doug won't take him back (and Todd wouldn't blame him if he didn't), just getting to a place in his life where he's finally happy is going to be worth it. So yeah, he's willing.
"Yes," he says after a moment's pause. "I am. I need help," he adds, "but I am."
"Awesome! Awesome. Okay, this is awesome. I'm going to give you some homework and I want you to call me in a week. Can you handle that?"
He can. Doesn't mean he'll like it. "Yes," he says again. "What is it?"
"Okay. Three things. One - I want you to get a notebook or journal and start a list. It a list about The Todd. And every day you're going to add to the list things that you like or that are good about yourself. You have to add at least three new things to this list every single day. No matter what. No exceptions. No repeats. I don't care if all you can come up with is 'my big toes are exactly symmetrical' - you have to always give me three things. That's the first thing. The second is that you have to stop, and think - really think - about what Doug has done since you two started going out. What made you feel good? What made you feel bad? Write those things down in your notebook, too but on a separate page. And three - this is easier but really important, and really more for the dating things than your mental health - give yourself permission to take a break from Doug, guilt free. For seven days, you will not allow yourself to feel guilty around Doug. You do that how ever you need to, but you are allowed to go slow. You are allowed to need to go slow. And you're allowed to say so. And this is an exercise in doing just that. But this isn't about Doug giving you permission. It's about The Todd giving The Todd permission. Journal, talk to yourself like JD does, hum, get one of those little rubber bands smokers use to quit - but every time you even start to feel guilty over Doug, I want you to say or think 'I have the right to take things at my speed, my way.' This is your mantra, Todd. Learn it, live it. Then next week, you'll tell me how you did. Okay?"
Todd wishes he had a pen. That's a lot to remember. "Okay," he says, I mean, I don't know how good I'll be at that stuff, but I'll try." He will. He'll try his ass off if that's what it takes. He's tired of hurting all the time and if this will make it go away, then…well, then that's what he's going to do. "You're kind of awesome," he tells her. "Without the kind of."
"Why, thank you Todd. You're awesome too, you know."
He almost tells her that she's wrong, but bites it back. He's supposed to be learning how to not do that. "Thanks," he says instead, but it doesn't come out easily. Maybe it will in time.
"You're welcome," Molly replies warmly. "One day you're going to believe me."
"Maybe," he agrees, and shuts the phone. He's supposed to be on duty, after all.
***
Doug's very familiar with this particular storage closet. He was an intern - he's practically got his name engraved on this closet.
It's always been his place. Since that first patient died, forty-five minutes into that first day, this has been the place where he goes to break.
This feels a lot like that first fatality - the crushing feeling of guilt that you've killed something. Something special and unique. Only this time it's not a person, thank God. No, it's just a whole bunch of dreams.
He's going to have to apologize to Ted and the rest of the Peons when he's done here. Ted's one of his best friends - an awesome guy with luck that's worse than his and no self-esteem - but he did try. Everyone's tried.
Everyone except Todd.
Doug sniffs and rubs at his eyes sharply. He's got practice with this too - going from heartbroken to normal. Three years' worth.
It's one of the reasons he's so grateful to be in pathology. He doesn't have to bleed everyday over what he's done wrong down there. In fact, if anything, he gets most things right. Sure, he's misplaced a corpse or two but he's never hurt anyone since switching to pathology.
Until today.
He'd almost forgotten - how it feels to know you've damaged someone. He'd forgotten about the sinking sensation, the twisting in your gut, the lack of air. He'd forgotten about that acute pain that lances through his heart when he screwed up and someone got hurt.
Well, he remembers now. And it's not just Todd, though yeah, it's mostly Todd. It's every mistake he's ever made - in and outside of the hospital.
He takes long deep breaths and gives himself, on the clock, a half hour to cry and flip out. Then he collects himself and heads back into the hospital he has to share with Todd.
He can do this. He spent three years of his life numbing himself to his fuck ups, many and spectacular though they were. It's the only way he could live with the number of lives on his conscience in his internship. And it's the only way he can live with the pain of what Todd said now.
"Hey, Doug." JD is standing leaned against the door. He points in at the closet Doug has just emerged from. "That one's my favorite. Roomy."
"I like it," Doug agrees. He rubs the back of his neck. "So you heard, huh?'
"Yes," JD says, and he smiles. "And I thought it was lovely. You sounded just like Frankie Lymon."
"I didn't."
"No, but you still sounded good."
Doug smiles a little but it hurts his face. "Thanks, JD."
"So, they've got chocolate cake in the cafeteria and as my residents are currently doing my bidding, I've got some time. And a craving. Want cake?"
Doug's never been a man who could turn down sweets.
They sit at JD's usual table and Doug picks at his cake. JD's is more than half gone before he opens his mouth to speak again.
"Like ambrosia," he sighs dreamily. Doug raises an eyebrow wonders how, of the two of them, he ended up the one who sleeps with men.
"It's pretty good," he agrees, happy for the distraction. It's a slow day in the morgue today. It was before the disaster went down and if the trends stay true, it will be for another day or two before he gets swamped.
"So, what happened?" JD asks conversationally. No pressure, just sensitive guy JD the emissary from a group of worried medical professionals.
Doug has to admit, JD's the best choice. Ted is probably his best friend, but he can't talk to Ted about this. Ted's own personal life is a disaster of epic proportions. Turk's Todd's friend first, and the Janitor...yeah, after the little dance thing a few weeks ago - he scares Doug a little.
"It just didn't go well."
JD's lips purse and his eyes narrow. He looks off to the right and Doug snaps his fingers in front of his face.
"Don't." He says sharply, "Just don't. Because whatever you think he said? It's not what happened. And what did happen? Isn't your business."
"But...you made him so happy," JD flounders. "You were both really happy. What happened to the happy?" He asks like a little boy who's just been told that, no John, there's no such thing as Santa. Or the Tooth Fairy. The Easter Bunny is fake, too. Also? The moon landing (although that was a matter of opinion, Doug admits).
"I don't think he wants to be happy with me, JD," Doug says with a shrug and tries to pretend that it doesn't cut him so deep it feels like he's bleeding out. "I won't force him to if he doesn't want to."
"But...he's wrong." JD argues. "You guys are like the cutest couple in the hospital. You're hot for him even though he's...The Todd. Which I'm not saying is a bad thing but still - you're kind of the only one, and he should be able to see how awesome that makes you. For him." JD frowns and looks right again, dissecting his sentence.
"You should just let it go, JD," Doug says gently, pushing his cake towards him. "That's what I'm trying to do."
"But...we did World's Most Giant Doctor In Love With Todd..." JD exclaims. "Key words being- in love with Todd. You're in love with him. How can you just let it go?!"
Doug sighs and props himself up with his elbows against the tabletop. "I have to. He won't let me hold on to it. I have to be okay with him not wanting to be with me. I can't function otherwise."
And Doug is ready to make it so. No matter how cold it makes him in the process.
JD opens and shuts his mouth a few times before he looks down. He grabs Doug's abandoned cake and shovels a forkful in his mouth. When he looks to the right this time, Doug can see his eyes glitter.
***
Doug gets invited to Elliot's spontaneous proposal at the bar and agrees to go only because he's tired of spending his evenings alone. He's not looking for anything other than some light socializing, maybe talking to JD about if he's okay or not with his ex getting married. He knows JD has to be taking this hard, even though he's swearing to all and sundry that he doesn't care anymore and that he's happy for Elliot.
Doug knows what it's like to have an ex be happy when you're not. He knows it pretty damn well thanks to Raoul traipsing all over their old hangouts with his man-whorey boyfriend the fishmonger.
Except then he gets there and oh, great, Todd's there, too, and it's suddenly yet another hour of the day that he has to try and ignore the thump thump thump of his heart drumming in his chest.
It's not right, Doug thinks. When two people break up, one of them should be forced to move across the country like Zach and Alex and Anna and Lindsay on The O.C.
"Hey, JD," he says as he side-steps Carla and joins JD at the bar.
JD hands him a beer without speaking.
Doug sets the beer down and makes a face. He doesn't drink. As accident prone as he is, drinking or smoking or in any way altering his normal body levels is pretty much asking for trouble. He got drunk once and only once, and…well, that was enough to teach him that lesson good and proper.
"How are you?" he asks, gesturing around at the bar filled with Elliot and Keith's friends.
"I'm fine," JD says a little too forcefully, but Doug has gotten worse this week than JD's attitude, so he ignores it.
"Please," Doug says, raising one eyebrow. "After my last boyfriend Raoul left me, he showed up at our favorite video store with his new guy—trampy fishmonger named Letharo, by the way, and I ended up hiding in the horror section for twenty minutes until they left. Do you know how scary that was? They shouldn't be allowed to put that kind of stuff on the boxes." JD gives him a 'is there a point to this?' look, which Doug finds more than a little ironic coming from JD, but he presses on. "And the thing is…they tell you that you should try to be friends with your exes, but…it never really works out that way, does it? So…I'm just saying. If you need to talk about Elliot and," he gestures again around the room, "I'll listen."
JD looks momentarily speechless, and Doug kind of wants to do a victory dance over that. Surely he's the first person in the entire hospital to accomplish it.
"I'm fine," he repeats after a moment. "Really."
He's lying, and they both know it, but Doug lets it slide. He's learned his lesson with pushing. He kept trying to force his way into a place where he so clearly wasn't wanted, and now he's lost Todd forever. He's not doing that ever again.
Doug opens his mouth to speak again, but JD gets up and wanders over to talk to Melody, Elliot's sorority sister. Doug had been encouraging JD to sleep with her earlier, but now that he sees up close and personal just how much Elliot getting engaged is affecting him, he kind of thinks that was a bad idea. Sleeping with someone just to get over an ex or take your mind off of your pain is never a good idea. Doug's got a story about that, too, but there's no one to tell it to, so he keeps his mouth shut and listens to Melody as she announces that the proposal is happening in less than sixty seconds. Doug's never attended a proposal before, and if he weren't currently suffering through his own personal version of hell, he'd be somewhat excited. As it is, he's imagining what it would be like to just drown his sorrows in that beer without the consequences. It'd be nice to just be numb for a while.
"When she gets here, let's be quiet and give her our full and complete attention," Jordan adds, and Doug kind of wants to hide behind something. She's not even looking at him, and he still feels his insides run cold.
"I'll tell you what's at full attention," Todd announces to everyone present, and Doug knows, instinctively without looking, that he's gesturing to his crotch.
The thunk that resonates through the room as the glass bottle hits Todd's forehead makes Doug flinch in sympathetic pain. He doesn't have to look at it to know that it had to hurt. His first instinct is to rush to Todd's side to see if he's okay, but he fights it down. Todd made it perfectly clear that he did not want Doug's help at feeling better, and Doug wants to honor that wish. It's the least he can do after pushing Todd so hard that he literally broke.
He can't just stand there though and not do anything at all, so he turns to the bartender and asks for a Ziplock full of ice. If the bartender thinks it's a strange request, he doesn't comment, and hands Doug a sandwich bag stuffed to the brim with ice.
"Here," Doug says to Turk. "For Todd."
"Why don't you give it to him yourself?" Turk suggests, and Doug knows exactly what he's getting at.
"You know why," he sighs. "Just give it to him, please? That had to hurt."
"Which is exactly why he could use someone to kiss it better," Carla chimes in.
"He doesn't want me to kiss it better," Doug mumbles. "Just give it to him, please?"
Turk frowns and gives Doug a "this is against my better judgment" look, but nods and makes his way through the crowd with the bag.
"I don't see why you two can't just forgive each other for whatever it was that you did to each other, because whatever it was, it can't be worth the two of you being this miserable," Carla says softly.
"I'm not miserable," Doug says defensively. "I'm unhappy at worst."
"It's still such a waste," she says, taking Doug's face in her hands. They're warm and soft and Doug thinks that if he were ever going to be with a woman, it would have to be her. "You two are so good together," she continues. "I've never seen The Todd happier than he was when he was with you. Do you know he didn't hit on a single one of my nurses the entire time you two were dating?"
"I…" Doug says softly, and he feels like he's choking.
She sighs and lets go of his face, but pats his arm kindly. "I'm sorry," she says. "I've been trying to work on not butting in as much."
"Good luck with that," he tells her.
She laughs. "I didn't say I was any good at it."
"It's complicated," he tells her.
She nods. "It always is. Doesn't mean it's not worth pursuing. The best things in life are always the hardest to get."
He swallows roughly and opens his mouth to say something, anything, to make her understand that he did try, he tried his behind off and failed, but Turk returns from giving the ice bag to Todd and lifts Carla off her feet and carries her out of the bar.
And then Doug's alone, which seems to have been his permanent state of being since Raoul left. And it sucks and it hurts and God, he's tired of it, but he feels completely freaking helpless.
JD's leaving, too, and Doug suddenly decides that he has no real place at this party. He can either be alone here with people getting increasingly drunker as the night wears on, or he can go home and be alone with a nice bowl of chocolate pudding and a DVD. Bridget Jones, maybe, if he can find it.
He pays the bartender for the beer he didn't drink (half price, he notices, so Elliot must've given him a little boob), and starts making his way out of the bar. "Ow," he mutters as someone runs into him, and it's not until his eyes rake over the DOC tattoo across a very large bicep that he realizes that it's Todd. "Oh," he says as their eyes meet. "Sorry, I…I was just leaving."
Todd looks a little shell-shocked (probably from the bottle hitting his head), and Doug's suspicions are confirmed when Todd says, with a slight slur that does sounds drunk but not, "You're awesome. I should've seen that."
He sounds more punch-drunk than actually inebriated, and Doug knows that in a room full of doctors, no one would've been stupid enough to actually let Todd drink after a head injury.
"Todd, you're…you need to go home and rest," Doug tells him. He's not going to let himself listen to Todd's words. They'll only make him feel worse.
"No, listen," Todd says, more firmly now. It's such a bizarre paradox of loopiness and conviction that it almost makes Doug want to laugh. "You were great. It was…it was me. I always fuck things up."
"No, you don't," Doug says, and guides Todd to a table. "Sit down. There. Good." Todd slumps forward against the table, and Doug shakes him. "No, no, you can't go to sleep."
"But I want to," Todd tells him.
"I'm sorry," Doug says, then, to the rest of the bar patrons, "Guys, can someone come here? I think something's wrong with Todd."
A couple of people glance at Dr. Cox and he says, "No, I'm not going to say it. It's too easy." But he steps forward and begins to check up on Todd. Doug wishes he had better luck with living patients.
After a moment, Dr. Cox says, "Well, I can't be sure without running actual tests, but it looks like the scalpel jockey's got himself a concussion."
He glances at Jordan who replies, "What? It's not like you weren't all wishing you had the balls to do it, too."
Doug frowns and pokes Todd to keep him awake. "Todd, where are your keys?" Todd doesn't respond, so Doug sighs and sticks his hand in the pocket closest to him, fingers flexing as he searches for the keys.
Todd giggles. "If you wanted to get in my pants, all you had to do was ask."
"Where are your keys?" Doug repeats when he comes up empty, and Todd pulls them out of his other pocket and dangles them in front of Doug's face.
"Say please," he says playfully, and oh, this is just way too much for Doug to handle.
"Todd, please give me the keys."
"Are you going to drive me home?" Todd asks.
"No," Doug says as he takes the keys out of Todd's hands. "We're…we're going back to work, okay? You forgot something there."
"Did I?" Todd asks vaguely. "Okay."
"Good," Doug says soothingly as he helps Todd up and guides him out of the bar. He has no idea where the Mustang is, so he hits the car alarm button on the keys and follows the honking. He doesn't care if people get annoyed. Let them. They can get as angry at Doug as they want as long as Doug gets Todd to the hospital without him passing out.
Doug has his license, but it's been over a year since he got behind the wheel of a car. He's out of practice and it shows as he drives them back to Sacred Heart with one hand on the wheel and the other holding onto Todd, but they arrive without anything worse than a few drivers giving them the finger.
Snoop Dogg Attending is on call at the time, and he promises Doug that he'll take good care of Todd, but it doesn't stop him from pacing back and forth outside the examination room door while he waits.
"Is he okay? It's a concussion, right? Dr. Cox said he thought it was a concussion," Doug says as Snoop Dogg Attending steps back out of the examination room.
"He's fine, Doug, really. It's a concussion. But they're really easy to treat. You know that."
"Most of my patients died," Doug informs him. Sometimes, when Doug is in mid-panic, it's easy to forget that not every doctor on staff has quite the same track record as he does.
Snoop Dogg Attending gives him that dumb, blinky look like, "I have no idea what to do with that," and then says, as if Doug had not said anything, "He'll be fine, Doug. Why don't you go on home?"
"I…" It's a fair question. Why doesn't he? Why didn't he as soon as he dropped Todd off? It's not like he has any real reason to stay.
"Go home, Doug," Snoop Dogg Attending presses. "Get some sleep. You look like hell."
"Thanks," Doug replies. "Good to know."
"I'm just sayin'."
Doug sighs. "Okay. You're right. Good night." He can't help it. Part of him really wants to just say screw it and turn right around and run into the examination room to hold Todd's hand. He doesn't, but it's an exercise in self-restraint like he's never had before.
Click here to go to part 5.
Co-Written With: The absolutely lovely and talented
dancinbutterflyRating: R
Pairing(s): Todd/Doug, JD/Elliot, Keith/Elliot, Turk/Carla.
Word Count: 6,316 of 31,805
Summary: After the events of My Self-Improvement, Doug and Todd try to hold together their budding relationship while JD tries to win back an old one.
Disclaimer: Bill Lawrence & NBC own Scrubs. Not for profit.
Thank You: To
agirlcalledkil for the amazing beta and dancinbutterfly for co-writing and kicking me into shape."Hello?" Molly says cheerfully. She's the type of person who loves phone calls. They're like little surprises in electronic form and she always answers as if she can't wait to find out what the surprise is going to be. "Molly Clock here. What's up?"
Todd pulls the paper towel away from his mouth and says, "I threw up." It's an odd way to start a conversation and he knows it, but he has no idea what he's supposed to say to her. He was going to try. They agreed on that. He was going to do that thing where he'd let Doug love him. It didn't work out too well for him, and he kind of feels like a puppy who messed the carpet after being repeatedly told not to. Only this is about a billion times worse and his messing also hurt the one person on the entire planet who could actually ever love him.
"Todd?" Molly asks and he can almost hear her sit up straighter. "Todd, take a slow, deep breath for me okay? Can you do that for me?"
Todd obliges, unable to ignore the way his breath sounds like a ragged, sickly pant. He wonders if it sounds as bad through the phone. "I fucked up," he tells her. And okay, for all of Todd's talk to the ladies of Sacred Heart, he actually has a whole lot of respect for Molly and would, under any other circumstances, try to avoid using words like that in front of her. But really, it's the only word bad enough for what he did, and even then it's still not as horrible as the actual event itself was.
"Okay. Why don't you take a few more deep breaths and tell me how you fucked up," Molly says calmly. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it's not as bad as you think it is. Things rarely are. Once you tell me, it may seem less like a catastrophe and more like a regular old mistake."
Todd sighs. Oh, where to begin? Should he start with the part where he had a panic attack in the middle of sex and ran out on Doug? Or how about the part where Doug tried three times to show Todd that he still cared about him, and Todd shot him down every time? Maybe starting with the thing about oh, yeah, apparently Doug was in love with him and then segueing into exactly why it's a "was" instead of an "is" in there would be best. Probably best to start at the beginning, he supposes, give her the full tour of The Hell That is Todd's Brain.
"Doug sucked me off," he begins, because…well, that was the start of the trouble, wasn't it? "And then he tried to…well, he tried things. And I freaked out and he told me he loved me, and I left and he's been like, ridiculously awesome to me ever since, and I basically just told him to fuck off because he was completely useless and not even a real doctor, and if I were him, I wouldn't ever forgive me, and the really fucked up part is that I'm not even sure I want him to because in a way it'd be easier if he didn't."
"Hm." Is all Molly has to say for a long moment. "Can I ask you something personal here Todd?"
Todd says yes because at this point, he really has nothing left to lose. "I guess. But I really don't know what good it'll do."
"Of these three things, which scares you the most - never speaking to Doug ever again, having penetrative sex with Doug, or letting him hold you?" she asks curiously. "Ooh, and if you want, you can rank them on a scale of one to ten - like one being dropped in a pit of flesh eating crabs and ten being cuddled up safe and sound with your favorite stuffed animal."
Todd shifts to find a more comfortable position on the floor of the bathroom. "I don't know," he says with a shrug she can't see. "I…I've been okay with him holding me, I think. I mean, not always. Sometimes it really scares me, but usually I'm okay. And never speaking to him again…that's like a 1 and a 10 at the same time. Because…yeah, I really, really like him, and the thought of never being with him again…it's terrifying. But part of me really thinks it'd be easier to just go back to being numb to the world, and so that part of me almost wishes it would happen. And sex…that's like…if 1 is the worst, then it's like a negative eight thousand."
"So...I just want to be clear with the situation. He made a mistake and pushed too far sexually and you reacted badly. Have his gestures been sexual in nature? Because if they are, then I'd say you're well within your rights to react so intensely. Even if you weren't a survivor, sexual harassment is disturbing," Molly says firmly. "And if you really feel as though you were harassed, I think I'd have to recommend that you talk to Dr. Kelso."
Todd closes his eyes and thinks back. Were they? The first one hadn't been. It had been sort of sweet. And the second one…well, the second one had been kind of weird, but it hadn't been sexual harassment. The closest it'd been to it was when he called Todd "hot," but that hadn't been harassment or made Todd feel uncomfortable (it was more the general idea of being pursued, actually), and this last one had been…well, Todd thinks that some people might've found it romantic, actually, and he would've too if he was in any kind of mindset to be open to the possibility.
"No," he says finally. "They weren't sexual. They were sweet. Which was…actually kind of worse."
"Okay," Molly says thoughtfully. "You have an adverse reaction to sex and that is understandable but Todd, you've had sex before. With women, which is the sex your abuser was so it almost seems like counterintuitive reaction to me. And now you've made yourself sick over Doug being too kind to you. And I'm guessing it was genuine kindness, not patronizing or pitying kindness. I don't remember him that well but he doesn't seem like the type. Pity doesn't usually motivate beta males like Doug. They tend to save that for soup kitchens and food drives," she muses. "Anyway, the point is - it's not sex that messed you up. Right? So what we really need to be addressing with you is your intimacy issues." She pauses. "Do I sound like I'm close? This is so much harder when I can't see your face."
Todd sighs. Why does she always have to be right? "The sex…before. With the women, I mean. I…" He's not even sure if it's relevant to tell her this, but he knows now that he wants help. He's heard drug addicts talking about hitting rock bottom, and he's pretty sure this is his. "I was in control then. I was…doing the…you know. Initiating. And um…penetrating." That should not be so hard to say, he thinks. "I don't know if that helps you any or whatever, but…yeah, it's…it's hard. I mean…it's like…if he wants me, then there's got to be something wrong with him. And I guess that's a bad thing to think because the problem is totally me, but…"
There's a long silence. Then Molly speaks. "Is there something wrong with me?" she asks. "Because I like you, Todd. And I consider you a friend. And I think you're smart and interesting and no, I don't always like your sense of humor but I see all this good in you. Do you think I'm crazy or bad or broken inside because I think that about you?"
"I—" Todd freezes. "I didn't mean…I…no. You're not. But you don't want…it's not the same."
"Wanting is physical Todd. You're a doctor. You did a neurosurgery rotation. You know as well as any doctor that sexual desire is a chemical reaction to stimuli that takes place in the brain. Want is easy. Want doesn't take any work. I mean, come on, I wanted my last boyfriend. He was six feet tall with a dragon tattoo on his back and really amazing Roman features. He also liked to get drunk, beat guys up in dive bars, and get himself arrested. Also? He was really mean to my cat. But that's not the point. The point is that while I didn't like him, the sexual vibe was still there." She heaves a sigh. "There's no thought or consideration in something that's just physical, Todd. You know that. It takes a lot more to like a person. And I like you. So does Elliot and everyone else at Sacred Heart—especially Doug. How long has he known you?"
Todd knows she's right, but that doesn't make it any easier to accept. "We've worked here for five and a half years," he says after doing a quick count on his fingers. "I didn't know him before that."
"So five years isn't enough time for him to decide whether or not you were a decent human being?" Molly asks. "Not whether or not you think you're a decent human being - but for him to decide. You don't think five and a half years was enough? Okay. How many years do you think it would take, for Doug - an adult and a doctor - to make a decision like that do you think? How long did you know me before you decided I was decent? How about Dr. Turk? Or JD? Or the nurse, oh man I'm awful with names... Turk's wife?"
"'Til about the first time they helped me out," he says finally. "I mean, I probably knew before that, but that's what sort of…you know, proved it. But even if he thought I was a good person before, now he knows. He knows."
"Then he knows that your mother was an abusive bitch who didn't deserve a child as gentle and caring as you are." Molly says sharply, shocking Todd a little. He didn't think that therapists could say things like that. "And that you're a survivor. That's what he knows, Todd. You are not your abuse. You are Doctor Todd Quinlan and you are a good man. That's who you are and if you went in to work tomorrow and told every single person in the hospital what happened to you, not one of them would stop being your friend. Not. One."
"You can't know that," he sighs. "And even if you're right…what if I can't handle them knowing? Maybe they're okay with it, but I'm not."
"I'm not saying you should go in and do that. I'm just saying, you can't judge other people badly for reacting well to what happened." She sighs. "If you want so desperately to die alone, Todd, why are you calling me? Because this - this phone call - leads me to believe that you want something more than the shallow existence you had. Maybe it's Doug, maybe it's just a chance at a normal life. But if you keep being self-defeating you will never have it." He hears her take a deep breath. "Why are you calling me if you don't want me to help you? If you're going to fight the truth so hard?"
"I'm not fighting the truth," he insists. "I'm fighting your truth. Mine's entirely different. I…" he takes a deep breath and thinks. Really, and truly thinks, the kind that has a tendency to make him want to curl up into a ball for a few hours after he finishes, but he's not going to do that this time. He's going to be honest instead. "I don't want to die alone," he says quietly. "I sort of expected to, and then…there was this guy offering me a chance to not. And I thought I'd be okay, but…I wasn't. And I can't ask him to slow down, Molly, I just can't. It's not fair to him. But…but I want him." He rests his forehead against his knees as he speaks. "I want him so badly. I want to be good for him, and I know that I'm not. And I can't stand to have him…have him be with me when I'm not good."
"Then you have to listen," Molly chokes, and she's crying now. "Please, Todd. I want you to have this. I want you to have him. I want you to live happily ever after and if you don't listen you can't, so please. Please try?" She sniffles slightly and takes a few deep breaths. "I don't do this, Todd. I don't ever ever get emotionally involved with my patients. Ever. But I am and if you want him even half as much as I want you to have him, then you have to trust me."
"I trust you," Todd tells her. "I think I trust you more than I trust me." He sighs. "Please don't cry. I hate it when chicks cry." It's a stupid thing to say, but Todd feels stupid at the moment. What kind of guy makes women cry? Jerks and Todd. What a nice group to be a part of.
"Well, I hate it when people I care about hurt themselves." She chuckles and sniffs again. "If you trust me, then you need to start believing what I tell you about your innocence and your goodness and your complete lack of blame. I know it's not as simple as just 'Oh hi, I suddenly have rebuilt my shattered self-esteem from the ashes'. There are exercises you can do - written and mental - mantra, self-talk, journaling. It's scut work and it's hard but if you really do want him, you'll do it. I promise, I swear that you'll be happier eventually. Even if you lose him, you'll get healthier if you just let yourself put in some effort for it. It's like that old joke - How many therapists does it take to change a light bulb?"
"Just two," Todd replies. "One to change it and a second one to ask the first how it made them feel." He laughs, but it quickly turns into a groan. "You're right," he admits. "I hate it, but you are."
"I was going to say one," Molly says softly. "It only takes one therapist to change a light bulb, Todd, but the light bulb has to be willing to change. So," she asks, brightness flooding back into her voice, "How about it, Light Bulb? Are you willing to change?"
It's not fair, Todd thinks. He shouldn't have to change. He should be like everyone else he knows, already happy and carefree. He should not have to work to be happy. But Todd also knows that life isn't fair, and the only way to break even is to fight for his right to do so. And…and he thinks it's going to be worth it. Even if Doug won't take him back (and Todd wouldn't blame him if he didn't), just getting to a place in his life where he's finally happy is going to be worth it. So yeah, he's willing.
"Yes," he says after a moment's pause. "I am. I need help," he adds, "but I am."
"Awesome! Awesome. Okay, this is awesome. I'm going to give you some homework and I want you to call me in a week. Can you handle that?"
He can. Doesn't mean he'll like it. "Yes," he says again. "What is it?"
"Okay. Three things. One - I want you to get a notebook or journal and start a list. It a list about The Todd. And every day you're going to add to the list things that you like or that are good about yourself. You have to add at least three new things to this list every single day. No matter what. No exceptions. No repeats. I don't care if all you can come up with is 'my big toes are exactly symmetrical' - you have to always give me three things. That's the first thing. The second is that you have to stop, and think - really think - about what Doug has done since you two started going out. What made you feel good? What made you feel bad? Write those things down in your notebook, too but on a separate page. And three - this is easier but really important, and really more for the dating things than your mental health - give yourself permission to take a break from Doug, guilt free. For seven days, you will not allow yourself to feel guilty around Doug. You do that how ever you need to, but you are allowed to go slow. You are allowed to need to go slow. And you're allowed to say so. And this is an exercise in doing just that. But this isn't about Doug giving you permission. It's about The Todd giving The Todd permission. Journal, talk to yourself like JD does, hum, get one of those little rubber bands smokers use to quit - but every time you even start to feel guilty over Doug, I want you to say or think 'I have the right to take things at my speed, my way.' This is your mantra, Todd. Learn it, live it. Then next week, you'll tell me how you did. Okay?"
Todd wishes he had a pen. That's a lot to remember. "Okay," he says, I mean, I don't know how good I'll be at that stuff, but I'll try." He will. He'll try his ass off if that's what it takes. He's tired of hurting all the time and if this will make it go away, then…well, then that's what he's going to do. "You're kind of awesome," he tells her. "Without the kind of."
"Why, thank you Todd. You're awesome too, you know."
He almost tells her that she's wrong, but bites it back. He's supposed to be learning how to not do that. "Thanks," he says instead, but it doesn't come out easily. Maybe it will in time.
"You're welcome," Molly replies warmly. "One day you're going to believe me."
"Maybe," he agrees, and shuts the phone. He's supposed to be on duty, after all.
Doug's very familiar with this particular storage closet. He was an intern - he's practically got his name engraved on this closet.
It's always been his place. Since that first patient died, forty-five minutes into that first day, this has been the place where he goes to break.
This feels a lot like that first fatality - the crushing feeling of guilt that you've killed something. Something special and unique. Only this time it's not a person, thank God. No, it's just a whole bunch of dreams.
He's going to have to apologize to Ted and the rest of the Peons when he's done here. Ted's one of his best friends - an awesome guy with luck that's worse than his and no self-esteem - but he did try. Everyone's tried.
Everyone except Todd.
Doug sniffs and rubs at his eyes sharply. He's got practice with this too - going from heartbroken to normal. Three years' worth.
It's one of the reasons he's so grateful to be in pathology. He doesn't have to bleed everyday over what he's done wrong down there. In fact, if anything, he gets most things right. Sure, he's misplaced a corpse or two but he's never hurt anyone since switching to pathology.
Until today.
He'd almost forgotten - how it feels to know you've damaged someone. He'd forgotten about the sinking sensation, the twisting in your gut, the lack of air. He'd forgotten about that acute pain that lances through his heart when he screwed up and someone got hurt.
Well, he remembers now. And it's not just Todd, though yeah, it's mostly Todd. It's every mistake he's ever made - in and outside of the hospital.
He takes long deep breaths and gives himself, on the clock, a half hour to cry and flip out. Then he collects himself and heads back into the hospital he has to share with Todd.
He can do this. He spent three years of his life numbing himself to his fuck ups, many and spectacular though they were. It's the only way he could live with the number of lives on his conscience in his internship. And it's the only way he can live with the pain of what Todd said now.
"Hey, Doug." JD is standing leaned against the door. He points in at the closet Doug has just emerged from. "That one's my favorite. Roomy."
"I like it," Doug agrees. He rubs the back of his neck. "So you heard, huh?'
"Yes," JD says, and he smiles. "And I thought it was lovely. You sounded just like Frankie Lymon."
"I didn't."
"No, but you still sounded good."
Doug smiles a little but it hurts his face. "Thanks, JD."
"So, they've got chocolate cake in the cafeteria and as my residents are currently doing my bidding, I've got some time. And a craving. Want cake?"
Doug's never been a man who could turn down sweets.
They sit at JD's usual table and Doug picks at his cake. JD's is more than half gone before he opens his mouth to speak again.
"Like ambrosia," he sighs dreamily. Doug raises an eyebrow wonders how, of the two of them, he ended up the one who sleeps with men.
"It's pretty good," he agrees, happy for the distraction. It's a slow day in the morgue today. It was before the disaster went down and if the trends stay true, it will be for another day or two before he gets swamped.
"So, what happened?" JD asks conversationally. No pressure, just sensitive guy JD the emissary from a group of worried medical professionals.
Doug has to admit, JD's the best choice. Ted is probably his best friend, but he can't talk to Ted about this. Ted's own personal life is a disaster of epic proportions. Turk's Todd's friend first, and the Janitor...yeah, after the little dance thing a few weeks ago - he scares Doug a little.
"It just didn't go well."
JD's lips purse and his eyes narrow. He looks off to the right and Doug snaps his fingers in front of his face.
"Don't." He says sharply, "Just don't. Because whatever you think he said? It's not what happened. And what did happen? Isn't your business."
"But...you made him so happy," JD flounders. "You were both really happy. What happened to the happy?" He asks like a little boy who's just been told that, no John, there's no such thing as Santa. Or the Tooth Fairy. The Easter Bunny is fake, too. Also? The moon landing (although that was a matter of opinion, Doug admits).
"I don't think he wants to be happy with me, JD," Doug says with a shrug and tries to pretend that it doesn't cut him so deep it feels like he's bleeding out. "I won't force him to if he doesn't want to."
"But...he's wrong." JD argues. "You guys are like the cutest couple in the hospital. You're hot for him even though he's...The Todd. Which I'm not saying is a bad thing but still - you're kind of the only one, and he should be able to see how awesome that makes you. For him." JD frowns and looks right again, dissecting his sentence.
"You should just let it go, JD," Doug says gently, pushing his cake towards him. "That's what I'm trying to do."
"But...we did World's Most Giant Doctor In Love With Todd..." JD exclaims. "Key words being- in love with Todd. You're in love with him. How can you just let it go?!"
Doug sighs and props himself up with his elbows against the tabletop. "I have to. He won't let me hold on to it. I have to be okay with him not wanting to be with me. I can't function otherwise."
And Doug is ready to make it so. No matter how cold it makes him in the process.
JD opens and shuts his mouth a few times before he looks down. He grabs Doug's abandoned cake and shovels a forkful in his mouth. When he looks to the right this time, Doug can see his eyes glitter.
Doug gets invited to Elliot's spontaneous proposal at the bar and agrees to go only because he's tired of spending his evenings alone. He's not looking for anything other than some light socializing, maybe talking to JD about if he's okay or not with his ex getting married. He knows JD has to be taking this hard, even though he's swearing to all and sundry that he doesn't care anymore and that he's happy for Elliot.
Doug knows what it's like to have an ex be happy when you're not. He knows it pretty damn well thanks to Raoul traipsing all over their old hangouts with his man-whorey boyfriend the fishmonger.
Except then he gets there and oh, great, Todd's there, too, and it's suddenly yet another hour of the day that he has to try and ignore the thump thump thump of his heart drumming in his chest.
It's not right, Doug thinks. When two people break up, one of them should be forced to move across the country like Zach and Alex and Anna and Lindsay on The O.C.
"Hey, JD," he says as he side-steps Carla and joins JD at the bar.
JD hands him a beer without speaking.
Doug sets the beer down and makes a face. He doesn't drink. As accident prone as he is, drinking or smoking or in any way altering his normal body levels is pretty much asking for trouble. He got drunk once and only once, and…well, that was enough to teach him that lesson good and proper.
"How are you?" he asks, gesturing around at the bar filled with Elliot and Keith's friends.
"I'm fine," JD says a little too forcefully, but Doug has gotten worse this week than JD's attitude, so he ignores it.
"Please," Doug says, raising one eyebrow. "After my last boyfriend Raoul left me, he showed up at our favorite video store with his new guy—trampy fishmonger named Letharo, by the way, and I ended up hiding in the horror section for twenty minutes until they left. Do you know how scary that was? They shouldn't be allowed to put that kind of stuff on the boxes." JD gives him a 'is there a point to this?' look, which Doug finds more than a little ironic coming from JD, but he presses on. "And the thing is…they tell you that you should try to be friends with your exes, but…it never really works out that way, does it? So…I'm just saying. If you need to talk about Elliot and," he gestures again around the room, "I'll listen."
JD looks momentarily speechless, and Doug kind of wants to do a victory dance over that. Surely he's the first person in the entire hospital to accomplish it.
"I'm fine," he repeats after a moment. "Really."
He's lying, and they both know it, but Doug lets it slide. He's learned his lesson with pushing. He kept trying to force his way into a place where he so clearly wasn't wanted, and now he's lost Todd forever. He's not doing that ever again.
Doug opens his mouth to speak again, but JD gets up and wanders over to talk to Melody, Elliot's sorority sister. Doug had been encouraging JD to sleep with her earlier, but now that he sees up close and personal just how much Elliot getting engaged is affecting him, he kind of thinks that was a bad idea. Sleeping with someone just to get over an ex or take your mind off of your pain is never a good idea. Doug's got a story about that, too, but there's no one to tell it to, so he keeps his mouth shut and listens to Melody as she announces that the proposal is happening in less than sixty seconds. Doug's never attended a proposal before, and if he weren't currently suffering through his own personal version of hell, he'd be somewhat excited. As it is, he's imagining what it would be like to just drown his sorrows in that beer without the consequences. It'd be nice to just be numb for a while.
"When she gets here, let's be quiet and give her our full and complete attention," Jordan adds, and Doug kind of wants to hide behind something. She's not even looking at him, and he still feels his insides run cold.
"I'll tell you what's at full attention," Todd announces to everyone present, and Doug knows, instinctively without looking, that he's gesturing to his crotch.
The thunk that resonates through the room as the glass bottle hits Todd's forehead makes Doug flinch in sympathetic pain. He doesn't have to look at it to know that it had to hurt. His first instinct is to rush to Todd's side to see if he's okay, but he fights it down. Todd made it perfectly clear that he did not want Doug's help at feeling better, and Doug wants to honor that wish. It's the least he can do after pushing Todd so hard that he literally broke.
He can't just stand there though and not do anything at all, so he turns to the bartender and asks for a Ziplock full of ice. If the bartender thinks it's a strange request, he doesn't comment, and hands Doug a sandwich bag stuffed to the brim with ice.
"Here," Doug says to Turk. "For Todd."
"Why don't you give it to him yourself?" Turk suggests, and Doug knows exactly what he's getting at.
"You know why," he sighs. "Just give it to him, please? That had to hurt."
"Which is exactly why he could use someone to kiss it better," Carla chimes in.
"He doesn't want me to kiss it better," Doug mumbles. "Just give it to him, please?"
Turk frowns and gives Doug a "this is against my better judgment" look, but nods and makes his way through the crowd with the bag.
"I don't see why you two can't just forgive each other for whatever it was that you did to each other, because whatever it was, it can't be worth the two of you being this miserable," Carla says softly.
"I'm not miserable," Doug says defensively. "I'm unhappy at worst."
"It's still such a waste," she says, taking Doug's face in her hands. They're warm and soft and Doug thinks that if he were ever going to be with a woman, it would have to be her. "You two are so good together," she continues. "I've never seen The Todd happier than he was when he was with you. Do you know he didn't hit on a single one of my nurses the entire time you two were dating?"
"I…" Doug says softly, and he feels like he's choking.
She sighs and lets go of his face, but pats his arm kindly. "I'm sorry," she says. "I've been trying to work on not butting in as much."
"Good luck with that," he tells her.
She laughs. "I didn't say I was any good at it."
"It's complicated," he tells her.
She nods. "It always is. Doesn't mean it's not worth pursuing. The best things in life are always the hardest to get."
He swallows roughly and opens his mouth to say something, anything, to make her understand that he did try, he tried his behind off and failed, but Turk returns from giving the ice bag to Todd and lifts Carla off her feet and carries her out of the bar.
And then Doug's alone, which seems to have been his permanent state of being since Raoul left. And it sucks and it hurts and God, he's tired of it, but he feels completely freaking helpless.
JD's leaving, too, and Doug suddenly decides that he has no real place at this party. He can either be alone here with people getting increasingly drunker as the night wears on, or he can go home and be alone with a nice bowl of chocolate pudding and a DVD. Bridget Jones, maybe, if he can find it.
He pays the bartender for the beer he didn't drink (half price, he notices, so Elliot must've given him a little boob), and starts making his way out of the bar. "Ow," he mutters as someone runs into him, and it's not until his eyes rake over the DOC tattoo across a very large bicep that he realizes that it's Todd. "Oh," he says as their eyes meet. "Sorry, I…I was just leaving."
Todd looks a little shell-shocked (probably from the bottle hitting his head), and Doug's suspicions are confirmed when Todd says, with a slight slur that does sounds drunk but not, "You're awesome. I should've seen that."
He sounds more punch-drunk than actually inebriated, and Doug knows that in a room full of doctors, no one would've been stupid enough to actually let Todd drink after a head injury.
"Todd, you're…you need to go home and rest," Doug tells him. He's not going to let himself listen to Todd's words. They'll only make him feel worse.
"No, listen," Todd says, more firmly now. It's such a bizarre paradox of loopiness and conviction that it almost makes Doug want to laugh. "You were great. It was…it was me. I always fuck things up."
"No, you don't," Doug says, and guides Todd to a table. "Sit down. There. Good." Todd slumps forward against the table, and Doug shakes him. "No, no, you can't go to sleep."
"But I want to," Todd tells him.
"I'm sorry," Doug says, then, to the rest of the bar patrons, "Guys, can someone come here? I think something's wrong with Todd."
A couple of people glance at Dr. Cox and he says, "No, I'm not going to say it. It's too easy." But he steps forward and begins to check up on Todd. Doug wishes he had better luck with living patients.
After a moment, Dr. Cox says, "Well, I can't be sure without running actual tests, but it looks like the scalpel jockey's got himself a concussion."
He glances at Jordan who replies, "What? It's not like you weren't all wishing you had the balls to do it, too."
Doug frowns and pokes Todd to keep him awake. "Todd, where are your keys?" Todd doesn't respond, so Doug sighs and sticks his hand in the pocket closest to him, fingers flexing as he searches for the keys.
Todd giggles. "If you wanted to get in my pants, all you had to do was ask."
"Where are your keys?" Doug repeats when he comes up empty, and Todd pulls them out of his other pocket and dangles them in front of Doug's face.
"Say please," he says playfully, and oh, this is just way too much for Doug to handle.
"Todd, please give me the keys."
"Are you going to drive me home?" Todd asks.
"No," Doug says as he takes the keys out of Todd's hands. "We're…we're going back to work, okay? You forgot something there."
"Did I?" Todd asks vaguely. "Okay."
"Good," Doug says soothingly as he helps Todd up and guides him out of the bar. He has no idea where the Mustang is, so he hits the car alarm button on the keys and follows the honking. He doesn't care if people get annoyed. Let them. They can get as angry at Doug as they want as long as Doug gets Todd to the hospital without him passing out.
Doug has his license, but it's been over a year since he got behind the wheel of a car. He's out of practice and it shows as he drives them back to Sacred Heart with one hand on the wheel and the other holding onto Todd, but they arrive without anything worse than a few drivers giving them the finger.
Snoop Dogg Attending is on call at the time, and he promises Doug that he'll take good care of Todd, but it doesn't stop him from pacing back and forth outside the examination room door while he waits.
"Is he okay? It's a concussion, right? Dr. Cox said he thought it was a concussion," Doug says as Snoop Dogg Attending steps back out of the examination room.
"He's fine, Doug, really. It's a concussion. But they're really easy to treat. You know that."
"Most of my patients died," Doug informs him. Sometimes, when Doug is in mid-panic, it's easy to forget that not every doctor on staff has quite the same track record as he does.
Snoop Dogg Attending gives him that dumb, blinky look like, "I have no idea what to do with that," and then says, as if Doug had not said anything, "He'll be fine, Doug. Why don't you go on home?"
"I…" It's a fair question. Why doesn't he? Why didn't he as soon as he dropped Todd off? It's not like he has any real reason to stay.
"Go home, Doug," Snoop Dogg Attending presses. "Get some sleep. You look like hell."
"Thanks," Doug replies. "Good to know."
"I'm just sayin'."
Doug sighs. "Okay. You're right. Good night." He can't help it. Part of him really wants to just say screw it and turn right around and run into the examination room to hold Todd's hand. He doesn't, but it's an exercise in self-restraint like he's never had before.
Click here to go to part 5.
