Snow Day -- part one (WIP)
Apr. 25th, 2009 12:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rabidsamfan--
John T. McIntyre, M.D., still, after all these years, known as Trapper to most of his friends and staff at San Francisco Memorial Hospital, breezed into the office he hadn't seen for more than a month and stopped when he discovered two familiar figures parked at opposite ends of his big comfortable couch. He smiled to himself in private amusement at seeing those two slumped in reflecting poses, because otherwise they were a study in contrasts.
The crumpled surgical greens and wild black curls belonged to "Gonzo" Gates, Trapper's most promising protege in the Surgical Department. He lived the life of Riley in a battered trailer he called the Titanic that was generally parked in the hospital lot. Opinionated but generous, Gonzo had matched Trapper so well in temperament and talent it was already hard to remember how he had gotten along without him.
The neatly pressed lab coat, and the straight dishwater brown hair belonged to Stanley Riverside II, the youngest Chief of Emergency Services in any hospital in the country. It was frequently assumed that Stanley had gotten that position because his father was the president of the board of directors for the hospital, but the longer Trapper had known the Riversides per et fils , the more he had become convinced that Stanley had gotten as far as he had in spite of his paternal parent rather than because of him. The classic poor little rich kid, Stanley had always had everything he wanted but affection, but his quirks didn't stop him from being a fine doctor.
For these two, who didn't always see eye to eye, to both be crashed in Trapper's office argued that something had happened last night, and Trapper began to wish he had bothered to turn on the news when he'd gotten in, but it was too late to worry about it now.
He made his way over to his desk and settled down, still careful of the surgical scars that had given him an unexpected vacation. He'd been hit by a car, just before Thanksgiving, and Stanley and Gonzo were largely responsible for having put the pieces back together. Now it was the beginning of January, and with one more weekend to rest up before he had to come back to work, Trapper had decided he was tired of Hawaii and had come back to spend a few days in the mountains with an old friend. He'd stopped off at the hospital to see how much paperwork had piled up, and to reassure his colleagues, but he hadn't expected to find them in his office. He looked them over fondly, noting the blue smudges under their eyes, and pulled the first pile of paper to the middle of the desk. Might as well take the chance to catch up on a few things while he was here.
He had gotten through two piles of requisitions when a door banged down the hall, startling both of his somnolent guests into consciousness. They blinked at him, and then erupted from the couch in surprise.
"Trapper!" Gonzo exclaimed, grabbing him by the hand and giving him a quick hug across the shoulders. "What are you doing here? We thought you were still in Hawaii!"
Stanley bounced on his heels, just as excited, but he was blocked by the bulk of the desk from doing much more than taking the other hand and shaking it. "Good morning, John. It's wonderful to have you back."
"Good morning, Stanley, Gonzo. I'm not really back. I just stopped off to see how the place is holding together without me. You two are here awfully early this morning."
"Never left last night," Stanley admitted, flushing a little. "There was a messy accident between a bus and a chemical truck last night, and since I was still in my office catching up on some paperwork..."
"3 DOA's, 17 critical cases, 15 severe, and 12 minor injured," Gonzo put in hastily, knowing that Trapper was still concerned about Stanley overworking after a recent incident. "And all of them contaminated with PCBs."
"Gates was kind enough to help out," Stanley said formally, his face sobering at the reminder, "since Baker is still on vacation and Izbecki called in sick."
"You must've had every doctor in the building down here," Trapper said.
"Just about," Gonzo said. "It was worse than New Year's Eve."
"And it still wasn't enough," Stanley said, sinking into one of the chairs and running a hand unhappily over the stubble on his chin.
Trapper looked and saw that Gonzo was just as upset before he asked the question he didn't want the answer to. "How many did you lose?"
"Four," Gonzo said.
"Five," Stanley corrected. "The pierced lung," he added when Gonzo looked to him.
"Shit." Gonzo sat back down on the couch, leaned on one elbow and jammed a hand into his hair. Stanley slumped down into his chair. Trapper pulled off his glasses and looked at them thoughtfully. Each man held silent, facing yet again the uncomfortable truth of how little sometimes all their efforts would avail.
"I suppose I could have ..." Trapper started, but Gonzo stopped him.
"I don't think it would have made a difference, Trapper. They didn't even get cut out of the bus until nearly ninety minutes after the accident." Gonzo shook his head. "And besides, you're supposed to be convalescing."
"That's right," Stanley said. "And I thought you got Arnold to pay for an all expenses paid trip to Hawaii."
"I did," Trapper said. "But I've got a friend who invited me up for a weekend in the mountains a long time ago, and I was getting tired of pineapples."
"You're not going to try skiing are you?" Gonzo asked, alarmed. "I do good work, but it hasn't been all that long yet."
"No, no skiing," Trapper laughed. Just then the door opened.
"Hey, Trapper," a tall balding man in Forest Service uniform stuck his head in the door.
"Mike!" Trapper exclaimed, rising to his feet and waving him to the spare chair. "I wasn't expecting to see you this early. Gonzo, Stanley, this is Mike Houlihan, Mike this is Gonzo Gates and this is Stanley Riverside the second."
Gonzo shook hands with an interested eye. "You must be the guy who invited Trapper up to his cabin for the weekend. He's been telling us he's going to have a nice quiet weekend, right Trap?"
"Something like that," Trap laughed, and aimed Mike at Stanley.
Stanley had been waiting for his handshake by studying the broad, honest face under the fringe of blond hair. "Houlihan.... weren't you in here with a depressed skull fracture about six years ago?"
"That's right," Mike said, grinning. "I got kicked by a moose. Wait -- I remember you. Aren't you the doctor who kept me from going to sleep by telling me stories about his father?"
"You remember!" Stanley smiled with simple delight, "That's wonderful! Injuries like that so often cause memory loss."
"Thanks to you and Trapper," Houlihan said. "I don't even have headaches from it. How is your father doing, by the way? After all those stories, I feel like I know him."
"He's fine," Stanley said, brightening as usual at the chance to talk about his favorite subject. "He just left for New Zealand yesterday, as a matter of fact."
Gonzo frowned. "Wait a minute, Stan. Wasn't this the weekend you and your dad were going to go down to Palm Springs together?" Trapper remembered Stanley mentioning the trip, too, in one of his letters, and guessed that he knew why Stanley had been doing paperwork late yesterday.
"Well, yes." Stanley said, hesitating only a moment before years of experience helped him over the difficulty. "It was business. You know. Urgent. I'm sure Dad was very disappointed."
Mike Houlihan promptly proved that he really did remember the stories Stanley had told him. He glanced at Trapper for permission and then said. "Look, if your weekend plans have fallen through, why don't you join Trapper and me up at the cabin. It's a beautiful spot. You too, Dr. Gates," he added, seeing Stanley's hesitation and Gonzo's wistfulness. "You can sleep for two days if you want to, or come down and swap lies with me and John, whichever you prefer. But it's quiet, and the stars at night are so bright you'll feel like you can reach out and grab a handful of them."
"We're on duty tomorrow," Stanley protested, but weakly.
"So come up after your shift." Trapper said. "Look, Baker'll be back tomorrow evening and neither one of you is scheduled again until Tuesday. We could all come down together on Monday afternoon and that would save Mike the trip."
"I've got enough food up there to feed an army," Mike added. "And plenty of bed space."
"Just bring up some extra beer," Trapper said.
"Well," Stanley began, "it's nice of you to want me to come. But I just don't have anything appropriate to wear."
"I was about to drag Trapper over to Murphy's with me right now," Mike said. "Why don't you tag along and get what you need."
"I've got everything I need," Gonzo said seeing that Trapper looked pretty happy with the idea of having two gatecrashers join the party. "Go on, Stan. Jackpot and I can hold down the fort for now, and if anyone needs to beep you it's only about three blocks."
"Well..." Stanley hesitated. "I guess it can't do any harm."
They paused in Stanley's office long enough for him to get his overcoat, and then set off. Murphy's was only a few blocks away. A venerable institution, the outfitters had everything imaginable for the outdoorsman, and Trapper and Mike watched in amusement as Stanley drifted over to the racks of nifty camper gadgets. "Look, John! They've got cups that fold!"
"That's right, Stan." Trapper headed over to the clothing, while Mike went back to the climbing equipment. He pulled out long johns and socks for himself, and, after a moment of hesitation, the same, plus a blue chamois shirt and gray wool pants for Stanley. He hoped he had the sizes right. Stanley had lost some weight while Trapper had been in Hawaii. By the time he got back to the front of the store, Stanley had an
armful of little packets.
"Look, there's a metal match, and a compass, and a signaling mirror, and a folding cup, and one of those space blankets like they use in the ambulances, and a little first aid kit, and a little sewing kit, and a thermometer that hangs from your zipper tab."
"Stan, we're only going to be up there for three days," Trapper said, and regretted it when the enthusiasm went out of his friend's eyes. "But get them anyway. I'll show you how everything works when we get up there, and you'll have them for next summer, when I take you fishing."
Stanley lit up again. "Fishing? Really? My dad has a fishing lodge up in Alberta, but I've never been there."
Trapper wasn't surprised, but he held his tongue. "Look, you'll need a jackknife for the metal match, and some triple-ought steel wool. They're over at the counter."
"A jackknife." Stanley had never had one of those, either, Trapper guessed from the look on his face. But he'd wanted one. After some debate he settled for a Swiss Army knife with slightly fewer gadgets than the biggest one, and the salesman settled into the happy task of talking him into buying a parka with a dozen pockets, a woolen ski mask, special long woolen mittens and gaiters to go over the clutter boots that Trapper insisted he should try on. They got a nylon stuff bag for the clothing, and at the last minute, Stanley added a pair of snowshoes to the pile. "Just in case," he said with a sheepish grin, to Trapper's look.
"Just in case," Trapper agreed, laughing, now that he saw that Stanley knew he was buying toys just for the sake of having toys. "Mike can teach you how to use them, can't you, Mike?"
"Of course I can," Houlihan said, piling ropes and hardware onto the counter to pay for them. "And I'll teach you too, you old ski bum. Everyone ought to know how to use snowshoes."
"Snowshoes?" Gonzo exclaimed with delayed disbelief once they were safe in Trapper's office and Stanley had shown off his new equipment to the staff in ER. "And that parka looks heavy enough to be something from an Admiral Peary expedition."
"It'll be heavier before Stan's through with it," Trapper said, explaining about the gadgets Stanley had chosen. "And the pockets that don't have gadgets will probably have chocolate bars and gorp."
"Gorp? Where did Stanley ever learn about Good Old Raisins and Peanuts?"
"Well he was in ROTC, at least for a while, until his father raised an objection to it. But I think it was the sales guy at Murphy's who gave him the recipe."
Gonzo shook his head, laughing. "You never can tell what Stanley will do next, can you?"
"On the contrary, I think I can predict what he'll do tomorrow pretty accurately. He'll bring the extra clothing I told him to bring, set everything up, and then back out of the trip -- unless you make sure he doesn't."
"Why would he back out? You've got him looking forward to it."
"Yes, but it isn't the sort of thing Stanley Sr. would expect him to do. And Stanley Jr. is used to working away his disappointments, not relaxing."
"True," Gonzo conceded.
"So, since I'm going on ahead tonight, I'm depending on you to make sure that Stanley gets there."
"I get it. No Stanley, no Gonzo. Don't worry, Trap. I'll get him up there if I have to tie him in behind the beer. Where is the cabin, anyway?"
"Just south of Mendocino Pass."
"Oh, I've been there. Do you mean the Ranger station? The one a couple of miles below tree line?"
"That's the one."
"No problem." Gonzo grinned confidently. "We'll be there with bells on."
And they would, Trapper was sure, given Gonzo's notorious charm. There were very few people on staff who could resist it, and Stanley wasn't one of them. He watched Gonzo leave and flipped open his calendar to the last page. "Remember - June - Take Stanley fishing," he wrote so he wouldn't forget. He knew Stan would remember.
