Rating: PG

Summary: I used to be a sign language interpreter, and one of the things I did was interpret for medical students. I 'created' (their word, not mine) two doctors over a ten-year period...so I've spent way too much time in hospitals. P.S. They're both in practice, and quite successful...I'm very proud of them.

Ever wondered what Byers would look like in Langly's clothes? I did. So I let him play in his closet.

Spoilers: Not unless you count the Ramones T-shirt, and hey, my husband has the same shirt.
 

March 1, 2001

MICHAEL:

God, the alarm went off already.

I am totally dragging my ass. And I feel truly like shit. I feel bad enough that I'd skip class but I've got a midterm. Fortunately, it's calc II, no big deal, I'll muddle through it.

Been a long time since I got nailed by a stomach virus. And I haven't missed it a bit.

I'm trying to wake up in the shower. Not happening. I keep feeling like I'm gonna barf.

Maybe some crackers and milk would do the trick.

Not really.

I give up on the idea of shaving. I'm just not up for it. I'll feel better later on, I'll do it then. I mean, Kelly's not gonna kill me for missing one day.

I grab my backpack and my keys, and I feel the room start to sway when I reach down for them.

And by the time I get to my car, I end up barfing up the crackers and milk.

I'd like to point out that I did this BEFORE I got in my car.

It's gonna be a long fucking morning.
 

ALLY:

I remembered what I hated most about my first pregnancy.

Quitting smoking.

I started doing patches two weeks ago. They help, but they make me really edgy, and I really miss smoking. I realize it's not politically correct to say that, but tough.

I've got four more weeks of these babies.

And we don't even know yet if we passed the med screenings. Mine was Tuesday.

It's not one of my better afternoons in memory. It should be a crime to stick someone with needles that many times. By the time the afternoon was over, I felt that if someone attempted to touch me, I'd have to hurt them.

"Have fun," I told Langly when it was over.

"That bad, huh?"

"Oh, yeah."

It's his turn today. Then we should know sometime next week if we're candidates or not. The only satisfaction I get from this is knowing that he's got to go through a similar routine.

Mean, cruel, catty, bitchy. But it's nice to know that they expect potential fathers to suffer right along with their partners.

We're filling up our commuter mugs, preparing to leave, when Miranda yells that she's out of here.

We haven't told her yet. We plan to tell her if we're accepted into the program.

I don't think she's going to react well to this.
 

MICHAEL:

Thank God it was a cake midterm. I'd have died if it wasn't. I told the instructor I was sick, honest, and he was like, okay, just get up if you have to. I had to go and heave my guts twice. Embarrassing as hell.

I had three hours to do the test, but I got done in a little over an hour. Didn't even check my work. I'm sure it's good. I just didn't have it in me to do it.

I'm supposed to do some TMB work this afternoon, so maybe what I'll do is head over there, take a nap for a while, and head into the offices later on. Dad's doing some consult for Miss Russell, so he's not gonna be in till the afternoon.

I think he likes working for her. She seems to like what he does, she keeps giving him more work.

I think he likes the money, but man, he is stressed. I wish he'd take it easy.

Uh-huh. And I'd like to be six feet tall, too.

My stomach is killing me. And it's not just feeling like I'm gonna keep being sick, either. My abs really, really hurt. It's hard to even stretch out my legs.

Only person at Chateau Langly is the prof, and he's out in the offices. I should head out there, but I really need a nap. I head for the sofa. Tiny sees me and goes nuts, she tries to jump all over me and gets her ball and wants to play, and when I tell her no, she starts to whimper.

Sorry doggie. Not right now.

So she curls up on the bottom of the sofa-I think she's taking up more room than I am right now. Only way I can even get a little comfortable is just to curl up in a ball. I pull one of the sofa blankets over me-these people have more fucking blankets in their house. It's a good thing. I'm freezing. I go for a second one. Better. But not much.

Hurry up and get home, Kelly.

I forget. She works till five today. Shit.
 

I feel worse and worse. I can barely move. I want Kelly. I want my dad. I have no idea why. It's not like they can make it go away. But at least they'd be here.

I hear somebody come in the house. Probably the prof.

"Byers?" I call out to him.

I bet he didn't hear me.

I try a little harder this time.

"Byers!"

The prof comes in, still suited up from teaching class, and I guess the sight of me on the sofa sort of worries him a little. "What's wrong?"

"I don't feel so great."

He comes over and runs a hand over my face. Like the prof himself, the hands are smooth and cool. "Warm. Are you nauseous?"

"You could say that."

"Can I take you to your doctor?"

Oh fuck. That reminds me, I forgot I had a therapy appointment today. Shit.

Maybe the prof would do this for me.

I ask him if he'd mind cancelling for me, and he's like, of course, not a problem. He picks up the phone and asks if I remember the number-which of course right now I can't. He's like, no problem, calls DC info, makes the call, he's like so smooth about it, like he does it every day.

"When's my dad gonna get here?"

"It's around 2:30...he said he should be here, barring any major difficulties, no later than 3:00."

This could be a real long half hour.

I took a bunch of Tylenols when I got here, but they aren't helping a bit. In fact, I think they fucked up my stomach even more, because now I'm really feeling like it's coming up...

And I can't get up in time...

And I turn my head and barf all over the prof's shoes.

The guy is like so cool, he doesn't even flinch. He just pulls his shoes off and takes them outside, comes back in, heads off probably to Langly's closet, and comes back out wearing Langly's Wile E. Coyote slippers. The kind with the heads on them.

I wanna laugh but it just hurts so bad.

He shrugs. "It was that or the old Converses, and I figured, being newer, they'd be cleaner."

Only the prof could carry off wearing a suit with Wile E. Coyote slippers and still be cool.

"You don't have to stay in here, you know."

"Don't be ridiculous. Unless you'd like to be alone."

"No...not right now...not really."

In spite of the fact that the footwear of his I just decimated probably cost more than everything in my wardrobe, he moves his chair in a bit closer. He's not a super affectionate guy, not like my dad is, but he does kind of smooth my hair out, and it's soothing, as much as anything is right now.

"Do you want some water?"

I can't keep a fucking thing down right now, I shake my head no.

I just want my dad to get here.

"Michael...are you swollen on the right side of the abdomen?"

"Why?"

"I just remember when I was in college, I felt like you did now...and I had a great deal of tenderness in the right side. The only way I could get even marginally comfortable was to curl up like you are now."

"Uh-huh."

"I had an inflamed appendix...and I'm concerned you have the same."

"Can I just wait till my dad gets here?"

"As long as he's here soon. And I'm sure he will be." The prof has a real calm voice. I bet he's a good teacher. "But if it is, you really ought to not wait long."

Under the blanket I press down on my right side...and I just about scream when I do.

I want my dad to get here NOW.

I've got damn near nothing in my stomach, but it's coming up, whatever the hell it is...and I can't get up. The prof tries to help me, but I end up barfing...this time, all over his suit.

He just shrugs again, heads toward's Langly's room, and he comes out a few minutes later in a pair of his 501s, which are too big, and one of Langly's sweatshirts, the one that says "Mr. Peabody's Private School for the Extremely Clever."

He shrugs again. "It's Friday. Might as well be comfortable."

He's still got the Wile E. Coyote slippers on.

Good thing he didn't go for the Ramones T-shirt. I'm not sure I could have handled that.
 

This can't be happening. I'm shaking like crazy, I can't get warm, I hurt like hell...and it's my birthday tomorrow. My 25th. A milestone.

Tell the truth, I wasn't sure I'd make it to 25 for a long time...God, still a chance I won't?

I hate these kinds of cruel tricks.

Maybe it's just the flu, like I thought it was. I'll sleep the rest of the day and tomorrow we can go out skating, me and Kelly, just like we planned, and then she was gonna take me to dinner at this Thai place...

"Michael, I think your dad is here." The prof gets up to go out and meet whoever it is that just pulled in.

I hope it's my dad. I hope, I hope.
 

It's Dad. I feel a little relieved, but I know he's gonna be upset when he finds me like this.

I don't need him to get upset right now.

God knows I'm enough of a bastard to him already.

Dad I'm really sorry for all the shit...I can feel my eyes leaking. I don't know if it's just the pain or if I'm feeling like an asshole because of all the stuff he has to put up with about me...

I can feel his hands. I know what they feel like. He wraps his arms around me, but not hard, he knows I'm in a world of hurt right now...

"Do you think we can carry him?" Byers asks my dad.

"No. If Langly was here, he probably could, but us..." he turns his head back towards me. "Michael. We have to go. I know this is going to hurt, but we have to get you up."

How about if you just stay here with me Dad and let me curl up and die right here.

Standing up, even with both of them helping me, is murder. I hear this yell coming from somewhere...then I realize it's me that yelled.

And I can feel my face getting wet.

Christ. Now they've ALL seen me like this.

So much for ever getting any respect around here.
 

Only thing I remember from going to the hospital is my dad asking Byers when he started dressing like Langly.

"When I started raiding his closet," the prof probably figures, that was simple enough.

"And why did you make the decision to step down in the world?" Dad's asking him, he's sort of laughing.

Byers laughs back. "It's Friday. I felt like being comfortable. Langly won't mind."

Thank you, Byers.
 

God, I hate hospitals...and the more I'm in them, the less I like them. The only decent thing they do here is give good drugs...and they haven't given me any yet. Just saline so far.

I just about scream when they do ultrasound. Ultrasound's not painful, but my side sure as hell is.

I didn't even notice that they drew a bunch of blood, that's how bad it's hurting. Only way I know is I can see a thin stream of blood on my arm with some gauze on it.

I wanna go home. Now. I want Kelly. I want my dad. I want out of here.

And some drugs would help.

They let Dad come and hang with me when they're done working me over. He rubs my back in little circles, like he does when he wants to soothe me.

I start crying again. Shit, shit, shit.

He just does the crooning thing he does when he's trying to calm me down, just like when I was little. I'm not little anymore, but right now, I don't care...I need him here big time.

"I wanna go home," I'm sobbing still.

"Soon, soon," he whispers. "They'll tell us what's happening soon, and we'll take it from there."

"You're not gonna go anywhere?"

"No. I'll be right here. I'm not going anywhere."

"I want Kelly."

"What time does she come home?"

"She gets off at 5."

"I'll have her here as soon as she gets home. She'll be here soon."

"Where's Langly?"

My dad grins a bit. "He's got a...fertility workup this afternoon. I'll call him later."

"They're really gonna do it." I figured as much. Ally quit smoking, and she's been a total bitch.

"Well...that's not a given yet."

"Think it'll work for them?"

Dad smiles a bit. "I hope so, in a way...kids are a blessing, the best one."

He can say that right now?!

He's crazier than I thought.

But that's okay. He's here. And he'll be here. He said he would be.
 

I don't even know who the person was that came in and told me and my dad, yeah, I've got appendicitis, they recommend doing surgery soon since I look like I'm about to pop.

"How soon?" Dad asks.

"Within the hour, we'd like to get started. It doesn't take that long."

They go through the whole thing of do they have my permission, blah blah blah, and give me something to sign, Dad reads it through, and I tell him it's okay to sign it for me. He hands the dude back the paperwork, and then another guy comes in. Says he's the anesthesiologist. As seems to be the habit of everyone who walks into my cubicle here, he asks me if this is what I'm here for and did I consent to it and so on and so on and so on...

But this guy is okay. He takes out a syringe, I can tell it's one even without my lenses in, they took those from me when I got admitted, but he pops it in my line, not my skin, and about a minute later...

It's like, life is a whole lot better. I feel about six inches off the ground and I don't hurt so much.

"This is decent," I tell him.

"Versed."

"Relaxant," my dad explains.

No kidding.

I think I fell asleep for a little, because it's like I open my eyes and the anesthesiology dude is back, this time, he says he's gonna give me a memory block so I don't remember the procedure.

I remember my dad kissing me on top of the head and saying he loves me...

Just before everything gets real dark and quiet.
 

ALLY:

I get home, and before I can even stick my keys in the lock, Byers pulls in behind me.

I'm a bit surprised, because on Friday he's usually here all day, but he might have had something unusual to do...

I'm more than a bit surprised when I see him wearing clothes that look...

Like they came out of Langly's closet.

"John? Those look a lot like Langly's," I giggle at him.

"They are." He smiles, but the crease between the brow returns. "I had...a problem with my suit."

"Uh-huh." Just so long as he doesn't start wearing MY clothes.

"Is Kelly here yet?"

"No, I'm not expecting her for another hour or so. Why?"

"Michael's having surgery."

"Oh fuck. What happened?"

"Appendectomy...he'll be fine. I went through this when I was around his age. It tends to not be too bad."

"Is Daddy there with him?"

"Oh, yeah."

"How's he holding up?"

"I think he could have used some of the meds that they gave Michael."

"Figured as much. So what's the plan now?"

"Has Langly come back yet?"

"I don't think so...today's the day for him."

Byers blushes a little; I suspect he has an idea of what's involved here. "I know the boy asked for him. And Kelly, of course."

"Well, when Langly finds out, I'm sure we'll all be there...hey, isn't it Michael's birthday tomorrow?"

"That's what Frohike says. Can you imagine a more miserable set of circumstances in which to turn 25?"

"Some. But I think this one sucks enough."

"I'm going to go home, get out of these clothes-I promise they'll be laundered-"

Jesus, this is Byers. That's the least of my concerns.

"-and I need to get the cat from the vet. Tivvy had her...operation today." He blushes lightly again.

"Hmm, you really want to distress Langly?" I grin wickedly at him.

Byers gives a glimmer of a devious smile. "Maybe. What did you have in mind?"

"Just bring up Tivoli's surgery to him today."

"Ally, Tivvy's female."

I really give him an evil look. "I suspect that doesn't matter right now."

END OF PART 72