I think I'll go for a walk outside..
Who: Michael and Hal
Where: Fontaine Park
When: Morning
Michael hadn't really gotten the chance to enjoy New Year's. He'd been planning to take in an overnight showing of a Flash Gordon serial at the Apollo, but just as he was preparing to leave the clinic for the night, some friends had stopped by in urgent need of assistance. There had been a disagreement between his "friends" and some of their "business associates" that had ended with a couple of his friends suffering from a severe lead overdose. Thankfully, he'd been able to cure their problem with his usual skill, but by the time he finished, the serial would've been in its third chapter and he hated getting in on the middle of a story. So he'd gone to bed, downing about half a bottle of whiskey to help him get to sleep.
He'd woken up early enough that he had a little time before he was expected to show up at work. He rarely took a full day off- his services were too much in need for him to not be there. He took the long way to work, stopping by the park to see people setting up for the festival. It wasn't like the festival was particularly festive these days anyways, although the vendors were always hopeful. It was nice to see people with hope. Too many people he worked with didn't have it.
His knee was throbbing, though. He knew he'd pushed himself a little by walking this far, and the rain definitely wasn't helping. He'd hoped it would at least hold off until he got to the clinic, where he could take something to ease the pain. Obviously, his knee had other plans. Leaning heavily on his cane, he found the nearest bench that was at least semi-covered and sat down. He hated his cane, sometimes. It made him feel like an old man, not the thirty-something he was. But, it was a necessary evil, and he knew it was better than the alternative. Leaning back on the bench and stretching out his leg, his cane and umbrella leaning against the bench, he took a moment to take in the festival setup. The colors were at least an attempt at making things look like a party.
.
Hal had never been one for New Year. No - that wasn't right. He'd never been one for getting fall down drunk at New Year. Oh, he attended the parties - where he inevitably ended up standing in a corner, nursing a drink and watching everyone else have a good time. It was the same with office parties. He was always there, he just never seemed to have developed the knack of getting involved, letting himself go and going with the flow.
And so he was lacking a hangover the next day - he'd been up relatively early and he'd already been into the office - only to find that he was the only one there. He'd taken the opportunity of the peace and quiet to catch up on some work, then decided to take a break, heading out into the park - hat and coat on as protection against the inclement weather - to take in the stands and sights that made up this year's festival.
He remembered it as it was, before the incident some years beforehand, when it was a much more lively affair. One had to wonder how much of the subdued tone was due to memory, and how much to hangover and exhaustion, and it was this that was occupying most of his mind as he sat down on the bench next to the blonde man. He glanced over, after a moment or to, and gave the man a slight smile. "Happy Yew Year," he greeted, pleasantly.
.
Michael looked over towards the voice and returned the smile, although it was a little forced as usual. "Same to you," he said. He vaguely recognized the man- a reporter or something like that, if he wasn't mistaken. "Nice to see I'm not the only one who's able to be up and somewhat functional today." He shifted a little to give the man a little more room. "Wonder if anyone's going to come this year," he said absently, motioning to the festival still setting up. "Michael DuBois," he said, offering his hand.
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Hal chuckled a little. "True - but I think it'll be a while before people who don't have to be up crawl out from under their blankets today. But they'll come - they always do. Maybe not like they used to, but they'll still come," he said. That was one thing about this city - you couldn't keep people down for long, no matter what.
.
Michael smiled a little at the man's optimism. He wished he could have that positive an outlook on things, but he'd learned that such things were usually only temporary. "I used to be one of those people," he said, looking out at the festival. "But these days my idea of a hot night out is spending the evening at the movies." He chuckled. He'd had his wild days, yeah, but those were long behind him. "I was going to do that last night, but I had some last minute work I had to take care of."
.
"I don't think I've ever been one of those people. I quite liked the idea when I was younger, but it never seemed to work out for me." And like everything else in his life to date, it felt like a lost opportunity. "These days, I just don't try so hard - I like watching everyone else though. Seeing what people do, what they get up to - it'd be a shame if the festival died out. What else would get people out of bed on a day like today?" he asked with a twinkle in his eye.
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"Somehow I don't see you as the party type," Michael said, which was true. The man looked like he'd been born world-weary. "You strike me more as the sit at the bar and listen to everyone else type. Not that that's a bad thing," he added quickly with a bit of a chuckle.
Looking at the festival setting up, he sighed a little sadly. He remembered the festival in its better days. "It's too bad, too. The festival was always a great way to bring the city together. Such a shame." Of course, Michael knew that every DiGiovanni he patched up just kept the cycle going. But it was still preferable to the other options. Almost involuntarily, he massaged his shattered knee. "Maybe someday..." He trailed off into thought as he watched one of the vendors struggling to keep his tent up.
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"Yeah, well, that would be true. I've always been this old," Hal said, with dry humour. Some days it felt like it though, especially days like today, when he was just carrying on as normal and for most everyone else it was the day after the night before. "But the city will go on - and people eventually forget. It's only been a few years, as long as this can keep going in the meantime, the crowds will come back, just as raucous as before. And today? Today they might just be a little late - and the weather won't help that at all," he pointed out.
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"No kidding," Michael said as he looked up at the sky. It looked like there was a chance of the storm breaking, but really, it rarely did these days. Sometimes it seemed as if the city and the weather reflected the mood of the people. "I was hoping the weather wasn't going to be too much of an issue when I went for a walk," he said, motioning to his straightened leg. "Hurts like hell, though." He forced the smile again. "But isn't that why they always say 'Physician, heal thyself?'" He chuckled. "Still, it's nice to think about, isn't it? The park filled with people having fun again, no worries, not having to have extra security when less than half the people even show up?" He sighed. Yes, that would be nice. It would mean he wasn't having to work for them anymore. They paid him well, sure, but he'd trade it in a heartbeat for peace.
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"You one of those guys that can tell when it's going to rain?" Hal asked, nodding at the leg. He'd heard about that kind of thing - where old injuries ached when certain weather was coming. It could have just been an old wives tale, but Hal liked old wives tales - they generally had some basis in fact, and they made life just that little bit more interesting. "And yeah, it's nice to think about - and it'll come back, one day. Think we'll always have the weather though. You can't expect glorious sunshine in the middle of winter, after all. And if you get it, it'll just mean it'll be damn cold!"
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"Oh yes," Michael said, trying to flex his leg. "Something about the air pressure makes it throb quite nicely." He didn't fully understand it himself, but there it was. "On the other hand, if we had some sunshine, we could at least leave our umbrellas at home." He smiled a little and checked his watch. He still had a little time before he had to be at the clinic, which was good, since he really wasn't ready to get back up. "So what do you do, exactly, that gets you up on a day like this?"
.
"True, true - we'd trade them in for gloves and scarves. I miss summer," Hal jokingly moaned. He watched as a young girl wandered past, huddled under a brightly coloured umbrella, looking like she was on her way home from last night, rather than getting up to face the day. He watched her for a moment, thinking of where she might be going, where she might have been, before he turned back to the other guy. "I work for the Echo - name's Hal," he said, holding his hand out. "Mostly I'm up on a day like today because it felt much like every other day. And anyway, the news never sleeps - though given the few people who were in when I got there this morning, I think that maybe today it does."
.
Michael smiled and shook Hal's hand, pleased he'd been right. He thought the man had been a reporter. He watched the girl walking by as well. "Wonder what she did last night," he thought out loud. He turned back to Hal. "I'm a doctor, myself. I run The Clinic downtown." He didn't think he needed to clarify which clinic- if people could afford it, they went to the hospital. If they couldn't, they went to The Clinic. "In fact, I have a feeling that when I get there, I'll already have a line. Holidays are some of the worst times for us." He sighed and fingered his cane. "Seems like people get an extra dose of stupid around that time along with holiday cheer," he said with a dry chuckle.
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"Maybe stupid's an extra ingredient in some of the cocktails going around this year," Hal joked, casting a glance at the other guy, noting that he hadn't given his name, though he'd said where he worked. "Ahh, so you're one of the Clinic guys - that must keep you busy. Too many people here need it though," he added, aware of the mass of people who were on or below the breadline these days.
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"That's me," Michael said. "Dr. Michael Dubois. And yes, it's pretty busy work." He smiled sadly. "But I enjoy it, as much as you can enjoy something like that. I'm glad I can help people." He leaned forward with a sigh. "I'm not gonna lie, though, hopefully one day a clinic like mine won't be necessary." It was a nice dream, at least. But deep down, he knew there would always be a need for a clinic like his as long as there were people who couldn't afford it otherwise. He looked at his watch. "But in the meantime, duty calls, I suppose." Slowly, leaning on his cane, he stood up, stretching out a little to work the kinks out.
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"Your work is never done," Hal agreed, remaining sitting as Michael stood. "And it's a good cause - even if one day it might not be needed. Good luck with that - and I hope that you don't have too many people today who could probably have avoided being there," he added.
..
"Me too," Michael said, opening his umbrella. Sadly, he knew that many of
them probably could've avoided needing his services. "And I hope that if I
see you again, you're not in need of my services. If you are," he chuckled,
"I have a feeling you'll have bigger problems." He nodded and turned to
continue his journey, mentally going through his day-planner and hoping that
the line wasn't nearly as long as he feared it would be.