Hospital Europeen Georges Pompidou

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Whether it be a small scratch or a major disease, take all your ailments here, to the hospital. You'll be patched up in no time and be ready to get back to the hustle and bustle of everyday Paris. And if not? Well, the doctors will send flowers.

[The Exodus]

OOC: Damien/Ashton, turning into Damien/Gerard. BIC:


Damien Blackwood-Michaud

There were few things more awkward than taking your father’s pregnant girlfriend to a doctor’s appointment. Damien tried to list them as he waited with Ashton for Doctor Bonnaire to call for “Greene”. Elephants were awkward. They were slow and clumsy, waddling along the African savannah. Come to think of it, Ashton was getting closer and closer to that point where she, too, would waddle slowly and need to be given a wide berth. Okay, that was a mean thought. But unlike the romantic notions Damien was sure his dad plied Ashton with, the younger man was honest. Ashton, who was usually graceful and slight, would soon look like she’d swallowed an inflated beach ball and she’d move clumsily and carefully, so the beach ball wouldn’t pop. Perhaps Damien was a little bitter. And it mostly wasn’t Ashton’s fault. Mostly.

After all, he thought. She didn’t have to pick Dad. She could have picked any other man in all of Paris. But, no. It was my dad she wanted to raise a family with. My dad, who already had a perfectly good family…

And a busy family, at that. Damien was surprised that he found time to go to a prenatal appointment while Lucian was at work. His dad was in Burgundy right now, preparing the vineyards for a particularly nasty storm due to happen on Tuesday. And Damien really, really ought to have been doing something work related. Probably cleaning up his work space, which still looked like Tinkerbell had thrown up fairy dust and sequins everywhere. But… No. He was here, pretending to be a supportive and good big brother to Ashton and Lucian’s unborn child.

He did a lot of pretending to make his family happy, didn’t he?

"I can't thank you enough for coming today,” Ashton said brightly. “I hate coming to these things by myself."

Damien tried to smile. It really ought to have been Lucian here. Mr. Politician would know what to say, much, much better than his awkward, artsy son.

"You know,” Ashton continued. “This is the first time you'll get to actually see the baby... are you excited?"

“Oh, yeah,” Damien said, not sure how much of his tone was false enthusiasm. The baby would probably look like a lava lamp right now and Damien had seen plenty of those. “I mean, he is… well… you know… my brother.”

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gerard Bonnaire

The coffee bubbled as it filled Gerard's mug, and the hint of hazelnut filling his nostrils for the fifth time that day. He sipped the scorching black liquid, looking casually at his next patient's file. He could remember being told about her before being handed off to his care-- she was pregnant and young, her boyfriend a great deal older than her. Gerard refused to jump to conclusions and went off what he was scrawled in the spaces provided in illegible cursive, which, honestly, was not much.

He sighed and made his way into the room to find her already in the double-breasted, blue hospital gown, bare feet dangling happily.

"Yeah..." she said to the man beside her, reaching for his hand, "He's really lucky, you know, having you as a brother..."

Many emotions ran rampant in prenatal and delivery rooms- happiness, fear, and, sometimes, depression. And Gerard had learned not to disrupt any of them-- they were sensitive things, emotions were-- breakable, fragile, and had to be handled and approached with care.

He made quick strides to the pair of them, clearing his throat. "Good afternoon! I'm Dr. Bonnaire!" He said extending a hand to each of them before rushing to the sink to scrub from it any dead skin cells they may have left behind.

"It's good to meet you, Dr. Bonnaire! I'm sure you'll be better than that idiot scum-sucker of a doctor I had before!" Ashton said far too brightly for an insult. Gerard bit back an amused smile. He agreed reluctantly with her-- she made a valid point, but he would never voice it; he still had to work with the man.

"I surely hope so, Ms. Greene. It's nice to meet you," he turned to the young man beside her. "And you, too. I'm assuming you aren't the father...?"

Again, Gerard was just going off what he knew from the file and word of mouth. This man didn't look especially older than Ashton like he had been told he would be.

Gerard sat on a stool and pulled over the sonogram machine and several handheld tools.

"Actually, who are you?"

[The Exodus]

Damien Blackwood-Michaud

In truth, it bothered Damien that Lucian exerted his droit du seigneur on Ashton. He couldn’t think of any other dad who would set his sights on their son’s fiancée. Obviously, this wasn’t a run-of-the-mill problem. It probably hadn’t been since The Code of Hammurabi was written or when mannish shoulder pads and mullets were considered high fashion. And regardless of Damien’s own sexual preference, Lucian and Ashton’s relationship still bothered him at least a little. It didn’t matter that Damien was gay; what mattered was that Lucian was forty-six and really ought to have been looking at orthopedic shoes and retirement homes instead of Ashton’s butt or whatever. The man should have been needling Damien about adoption and surrogacy and grandchildren instead of having another baby at his age. Bill had once said Lucian wasn’t going through a midlife crisis, but Damien thought the situation bleak if this sort of behavior was considered “normal”. He wanted to pity his dad, be the bigger person, but really, he just felt a little sorry for Ashton. She was the same age as Damien. It wasn’t like she could know what she was being dragged into, having a baby this young with someone as old as Lucian. Throwing away her life for a life of domesticity. Damien couldn’t have done that; giving up his dreams for someone twice his age. She was pretending they were all going to be a perfect little family. They wouldn’t be; she was a former friend, thrust into the weird in-between role of friend-enemy-and-stepmother. Explaining his family was going to be a Herculean task for Damien; he could scarcely imagine what Ashton was going to tell her unborn son.

"Yeah..." said Ashton, reaching for Damien’s hand. “He's really lucky, you know, having you as a brother..."

Damien didn’t recoil as he had in the living room. He instead, smiled as best he could, holding Ashton’s hand and wondering if she meant what she said at all or if she was sucking up to him for stealing his dad. He sucked on his teeth from behind his upturned lips. This was all so awkward and confusing and in a matter of weeks, Damien was bringing Toddy home to show off. In a matter of months, there’d be a new baby. And both Toddy and the baby would be thrown into this family dynamic made of sheer awkwardness. Now Damien didn’t feel bad for Lucian or Ashton or himself. Okay. He still felt bad for himself. And for a moment, Damien lost himself in pity. At least, he was lost in thought long enough not to see an exceptionally tall, mildly attractive man walk in.


"Good afternoon!” said insanely tall man. “I'm Dr. Bonnaire!"

He was mighty cheerful. Although, Damien supposed you would have to be if you were a doctor. Otherwise, you’d be so overwhelmed by doom and gloom, you’d go crazy. He shook Dr. Bonnaire’s hand out of habit more than anything else, but couldn’t bring himself to return that cheerful smile. He instead watched the doctor go to wash his hands.

"It's good to meet you, Dr. Bonnaire!” Ashton effused. “I'm sure you'll be better than that idiot scum-sucker of a doctor I had before!"

Damien’s eyes snapped wide and stuck to Ashton. This was why their engagement hadn’t worked out and just one of many reasons why he wondered how Lucian fell in love with her. She was so blunt, so forward, so… rude. It went against everything Lucian instilled in Damien to be; everything he was. And that unnerved Damien. How did people fall in love with their opposites? He’d dated Ben MaCarthy, but that hadn’t lasted because they were so different. So, how long would Ashton and Lucian last? A year? Two? Ten? Or would they make it a full twenty-three years before realizing they were kidding themselves?

"And you, too. I'm assuming you aren't the father...?" Dr. Bonnaire said to Damien.

See, again with the distraction thing. Damien hadn’t even realized he was being addressed. He looked over at the doctor and lifted his eyebrows. He was tempted to get sour and ask, “Do I look like the father?” But, given the situation, that question would probably not warrant any comforting answers.

"Actually, who are you?" Dr. Bonnaire asked.

“Damien. I’m the brother,” he said tightly. “The baby’s brother. Not Ashton’s.”

Cue the awkwardness.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gerard Bonnaire

Gerard was a people person; just as long as the people were clean. Which was why he loved working in the labour and delivery ward. There was less death and less number of lives that came to an end-- in fact, that was the theme of the whole floor. Every wall had a poster saying so. He loved seeing new life come into the world and the looks of pain on the mothers' faces become sheer and overpowering love. Plus, other than the actual birth, the process was far cleaner. There were a few million less germs lurking around and the patients were hacking up and expelling Pneumonia and the Rhino-virus.

“Damien. I’m the brother. The baby’s brother. Not Ashton’s.”

Gerard nodded, his smile wide and welcoming. "Well, Damien if you have any questions, feel free to ask. Here's my card"

Gerard turned to Ashton after procuring a card and offering it to Damien. "Lay down, please." And Ashton excitedly did so.

Gerard learned early on when he accidentally mistook a patient's sister for her brother not to ask questions when family portraits looked far from conventional.

Gerard guided his stethoscope along Ashton's abdomen, listening carefully to sound of two people breathing, two heartbeats.

Gerard had never been pregnant, had never been a woman, and the last baby he lived with was his sister Adele who was four years his junior. But somehow, putting his head between a woman's legs never seemed awkward for anyone in the room-- it was for the sake of health, purely medical. He remained, without trying, indifferent; focused, if anything, on his work. But in atmosphere already set up for awkward, Gerard prayed to God for an idea on how to make this check-up less scarring for his patient and company.

He would simply skip that part and move onto the ultrasound. They'd play catch-up later when she was here alone or when the father came along.

He lifted Ashton's gown and she reached for Damien's hand again, jumping at the contact with the cold goo Gerard placed on her. "Sorry," he said simply as a snow storm came into screen. "These always reminded me of old films. I love Cary Grant. Oh! There he is!" Gerard exclaimed as the baby swam into view.

He loved to see the expressions that crossed the faces of the people in the room. There was Ashton, her face glowing, unbridled delight and hope emanating from her face. It made Gerard happy that she was happy.

[The Exodus]

Damien Blackwood-Michaud

Damien was ready for judgment. His hackles were up on end; he was ready to defend his family, despite his own discomfort at its current form. He almost wanted Dr. Bonnaire to say something snide or go wide-eyed and repeat, “Brother?!?!” in some scandalized tone. Instead, Dr. Bonnaire smiled charmingly and effectively disarmed Damien’s word weapons.

"Well, Damien if you have any questions, feel free to ask. Here's my card," said the doctor. Damien took it stared at it blankly and wondered why he would have any questions. It wasn’t his baby. It wasn’t his responsibility unless Ashton needed a ride. And once the baby was born, even if Damien was babysitting, there was the internet. He could totally handle being a big brother. … Yeah. He could.

Of course, it was only a matter of time before Dr. Bonnaire would his head between Ashton’s knees and he was doing some sort of crazy medical-science-y stuff that made Damien feel a bit squeamish just thinking about it. He wanted to know what kind of person woke up one morning and said, “I would love to look up people’s hospital gowns all day, every day, for the rest of my life!” Or maybe he didn’t. It wasn’t an understandable calling. Not like art or teaching or law or even other branches of medicine. Actually, no. Medicine was useful. It was also probably full of whacked-out science-fiction doctors who called people “human specimens” and “Female 5608” or “Male 809” instead of their names because they saw them as something to be studied or—

Lucian was probably much less freaked out by all this than Damien was. Damien was relieved that he didn’t have to marry Ashton, after all. A squelching sound pulled Damien away from his mingled disgust and relief and Dr. Bonnaire spread jelly all over Ashton’s stomach.

Medicine was still disgusting.

Ashton seized Damien’s hand and he wondered if the jelly was painful or something , the way she was vice gripping his fingers…

"Sorry," said Doctor Bonnaire, looking at a fuzzy television set, like the one Damien’s maternal grandmother still had. "These always reminded me of old films. I love Cary Grant. Oh! There he is!"

“That’s not Cary Grant,” Damien said instantly, peering at the screen. It looked more like The Blob to Damien, but even he knew that was The Baby. His brother. And that he was supposed to say something more than ‘that’s not Cary Grant’ about him.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gerard Bonnaire

"That's not Cary Grant!" came Damien's response. Gerard looked at him, blinked a few times and continued with the exam.

"So, Miss Greene," he said, addressing Ashton now, "have you felt anything abnormal or anything you find concerning?"

"Well I woke up the other night, completely freaked out because I was feeling these crazy spasms. My stomach was actually bouncing." Ashton said, worry etched on her face. Gerard raised an eyebrow and jotted this down, running through his mind possible explanations.

"Did it hurt?"

"No..." Ashton said simply. "But it kept us up for a while. Do you think something's wrong?"

Gerard sucked on a spot inside his cheek, thinking. "Well that depends on exactly what you're feeling, Miss Greene. It could be a number of things. Tell me more. Did it happen again?"

"That whole day! Lucian was going to take me in, but since it didn't hurt, I didn't really see a point. But he was moving around so much so I though something was terribly wrong with him. The baby, not Lucian... That'd be weird," Ashton said with a bemused laugh.

Gerard didn't laugh along with her. He was watching the ultrasound intensely.

"You know, Miss Greene, it sounds like your son just had the hiccups is all. Nothing to worry about. Completely normal."

"That's a relief! Isn't that a relief?" Ashton said to Damien, taking in a huge sigh.

"Next time, come in to see me. I'm always here. You can never be too careful. I had a boyfriend who's sister didn't trust her doctor so came to see me with every little thing during her pregnancy-- from fetal movements to the actual birth. She would call at odd hours of the night, so I'm completely used to it. If you need anything at all, let me know."

Ashton beamed. "Definitely! I'll remember that! ....This is why i like you better than my other doctor. He gave me strict hours."

[Deleted]

OOC: Gerard and Valter woo! BIC:

Valter Gottfrid

Valter stood in the waiting room of the hospital, his right hand clutching a towel over his left. It had possibly been one of the weirder day of Valter's life. This beat out a lot of, no, most of everything that Valter had ever encountered. Why was it a weird day? Why was Valter standing in the waiting room of a hospital? Because of one person. Cheryl Rothstein.

Cheryl hadn't been anything to Valter, she had been less than something to Valter. The fling result of a drunken night. He had left her place in the morning and hadn't had any plans of speaking to her again. She called and called and pestered the him, embarrassing him at work and making sure that he was miserable. One day, she just stopped. He hadn't heard from her in almost 5 years, until today. Valter had been washing dishes when he answered the phone, hearing her voice on the other end of the line and the feeling of a cheese grater across every nerve in his body. The shock made him drop a dish that broke on the edge of the counter, cutting open his hand. She wanted to meet up tomorrow, great, now he would get to go to the hospital and see the woman who had made up some of his worst nightmares.

Valter snapped away from his thoughts and back to the stark white hospital before him.

"Gottfrid? Is there a Monsieur Gottfrid here?"

The nurse was calling him. About time. Valter stood, still holding his hand and approached the young woman.

"We'll just take your vitals and-"

Valter raised his towel covered hand to her eye level, not sure that she understood the gravity of the situation before her. "Will that involve removing the pressure on my hand that is keeping me from bleeding everywhere?"

The nurse looked at his hand in a way that said "Oh, sh*t." "If you'll follow me, Monsieur Gottfrid."

Valter followed her back to an exam room, still holding his hand and stressing over having to see Cheryl again. What was her last name? He couldn't remember and wasn't entirely sure he had ever known.

"The doctor will be right with you."

Valter nodded, returning to his thoughts with a deep sigh. It was fortunate he wore so many black t-shirts, he would hate to have ruined a white shirt with blood stains.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gerard Bonnaire

Gerard loved his job, but there were times like today when he wanted nothing more than to lie down and take a deep breath. On the days when he had patients in a schedule were slow and long, but the days like today when the ER was filled to the brim with patients, each with an odd ailment and story, were short and fast-paced. So why was it he liked holed up in the safety of his office better, writing prescriptions than he did removing screwdrivers from the heads of careless men? Because at the end of the ER days, he counted more grey hairs than he did sheep and with every disturbing a grotesque image he encountered, he felt at least one day of his life be taken away.

Today was no different with the exception that there was less blood and more attitude. When he finished with a young hypochondriatic man who insisted his kidney stone was cancer, Gerard was just about at his wits end. But he gathered himself together, scrubbed his hands and sent for the next patient.

A man walked in, one hand clutching the other one which was wrapped in a towel.

"That looks like it hurt," Gerard said. "I'm Dr. Bonnaire. I would shake your hand, but... you know." It had more to do with the fact that Gerard didn't feel like touching blood right now than it did with the fact that shaking the man's hand might hurt him. "Tell me what you did."

[Deleted]

Valter Gottfrid

The doctor before Valter began started in relatively quickly, seemingly able to assess the entire situation with not but a glance. He probably had a very quick mind but that was all that Valter really cared to observe about the man. He had had constant pressure on his hand for some time now and wasn't sure what state it was in or what shape it might be in after all this was taken care of. His prognosis was all he cared to know at the moment.

"That looks like it hurt," Gerard said.

Valter gave him a look that silently spoke the words, "Some doctor you are...." Of course it had hurt, he'd sliced his hand open on a ceramic plate!

"I'm Dr. Bonnaire. I would shake your hand, but... you know."

Valter nodded in understanding.

"Tell me what you did."

The Swede breathed deeply, collecting himself before explaining. "Well, Dr. Bonnaire, I was rather startled by a phone call I received while washing dishes. I dropped the dish I had been washing and it broke, cutting my hand." Valter raised his hands, still one holding the other, as if validating that this were the truth, "It was a ceramic dish if that is of any importance to you."

It was unlikely that the type of dish was important, it was unlikely that he would need anything more than a few stitches and some antibiotic ointment for solidarity's sake. Still, there was something wrong. Not with his hand but with his life. There was this feeling that he couldn't shake since that phone call and either something bizarre was about to happen to him or Cheryl really did have that creepy vibe that he remembered.

"What is it like to see injured, needy people on a daily basis?" Valter asked, "I'm not sure I could handle it. Reason number one that I didn't become a doctor."

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gerard Bonnaire

"Well, Dr. Bonnaire, I was rather startled by a phone call I received while washing dishes. I dropped the dish I had been washing and it broke, cutting my hand."

Gerard nodded and jotted down some notes. That wasn't the worst thing he had heard. One man came in and said he at work and dropped his chainsaw on his hand. Gerard didn't want to ask where he worked. Another woman was mountain climbing and sliced her hand with the rope. Gerard asked her if the rope was serrated and she only glowered at him so he figured it was best not to ask again. But a broken dish was normal-- a far cry from other horror stories of the ER-- and was welcome as a breath of fresh air.

"What is it like to see injured, needy people on a daily basis?I'm not sure I could handle it. Reason number one that I didn't become a doctor."

Gerard laughed, taking the man's hand in his. It was strong and soft as he carefully peeled back the towel to inspect the wound. "You develop a stronger stomach after a while, I suppose. It's worth it, really. What is it you do if you can't cope with injuries?" Gerard stood to get a kit to wash out the wound. "That's a very deep gash, by the way."

[Deleted]

Valter Gottfrid

"You develop a stronger stomach after a while, I suppose. It's worth it, really. What is it you do if you can't cope with injuries?"

Valter chucked a bit, "The injuries I can handle, my people skills; however, are greatly lacking in such situations."

Valter's mind drifted off, remembering some of the injuries he had seen in his time with the Swedish Marines. It wasn't a time of his life that he talked a lot about, not because it was a traumatic time of his life or anything like that. It was more because it was just something that wasn't relevant to what he'd become in the end. He had been briefly involved in some conflicts and then his time was up and he left. He supposed to that matter of fact way of dealing with things in the military may have influenced his lack of bedside attentiveness, though. Valter surfaced from his thoughts slowly, realizing that he'd never answered the doctor's medically irrelevant question. Granted, the small talk was welcome, Valter had been quite alone lately.

"I'm a businessman, I don't see too much aside from paper cuts anymore."

"That's a very deep gash, by the way."

Valter had been quite sure that it would be. He had felt the pit of his stomach drop to the depths of hell as the warmth of his own blood spread over his hand and knew that it was definitely going to become an emergency room trip. Of course, he didn't bother to tell Cheryl that she'd just been responsible for his injury and probably wouldn't mention it tomorrow either. He was still shocked that he had agreed to meet her and wasn't sure that he would have ever agreed had he not been trying to get her off the phone so he could get to a hospital.

"Stitches it is, then. No vital nerve or muscle tissues severed?"

Most of the reason he'd come to the hospital instead of just dealing with the injury himself was that he was quite afraid of losing the function in his hand. It wasn't as though he needed his hand for a job or anything, that would be practical. No, Valter was just vain, he wanted both hands in full function, full ability to hold a drink, full ability to touch the body of a woman, full ability to swing at his side as he walked down the street every day. The thing he feared most was probably the idea that he might one day be abnormal or somehow unattractive.

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gerard Bonnaire

"The injuries I can handle, my people skills; however, are greatly lacking in such situations."

Gerard let out a laugh. He could understand that. He believed that people who weren't good with people had no right to be in medicine. Like a certain co-worker that came to mind...

"I'm a businessman, I don't see too much aside from paper cuts anymore."

Gerard let out another chuckle. Paper cuts were a nice, welcome break from what he saw everyday.

"Stitches it is, then. No vital nerve or muscle tissues severed?"


"Well, hold your horses. I can't make a prognosis until I can take a good look at it. Let me clean it."

Gerard rubbed gently the stinging ointment into the deep cut. It really was deep. He held pressure to the cut.

"Tell me," he said, pinching the man's fingers. "Do you feel this?"

He moved his hand around by the wrist. "Can you squeeze your towel?"

[Deleted]

Valter Gottfrid

"Well, hold your horses. I can't make a prognosis until I can take a good look at it. Let me clean it."

Valter hated this part more than anything, he flinched before the doctor even got near his hand. The swede's teeth were clenched, the muscles in his arm flexing partly in want to remove his hand from such a remarkably painful situation and partly exercising the control to hold his wounded hand steady. The ointment stung like fire as it touched the freshly exposed flesh.

"Tell me," the doctor said, pinching the Valter's fingers. "Do you feel this?"

His blonde head nodded, glad to be able to feel his fingers. It hadn't particularly occurred to him to test that.

He moved his hand around by the wrist. "Can you squeeze your towel?"

Valter tried to squeeze the towel, emitting an "ow" that could have easily come from a small child as his hand quickly uncurled. The look on his face had quickly become one of vulnerability as his body looked past the adrenaline to realize the pain, his blue eyes seeming bigger than ever. He decided to try and direct conversation away from his pain and injury, maybe then he could regain his composure.

"How did you get into medicine?"

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gerard Bonnaire

The fact that the man could use his fingers and feel pain was a good sign. No nerve or muscle damage. Just stitches and a pain killer would be suffice.

"How did you get into medicine?"

His patient really had a funny way of coping with pain. When Gerard was in pain, he didn't talk it out; he went quiet instead. But each to his own and if Gerard had any kind of bedside manner, he would acquiesce to his silent request to keep conversation alive.

Gerard cleared his throat. "I was a vocal performance major until my friend was in an accident. He was essentially a paraplegic but by the grace of God and medicine, he's recovered most function of his legs again. Granted, it's taken years, but as soon as he ended up in the hospital, I knew this is what I wanted to do."

Gerard reached for his sewing kit. "You'll just need stitches. But before that, can you confirm your date of birth for me? I'm writing a prescription for ibuprofen and the pharmacist will need it on record."