The Doc Is In

Doctor!

Mike cheered me up at the diner and I wasn't so angry anymore. I still felt like I would find some strength within me and beat him to a pulp, if I go back to work and he's still there.

"Babe... don't look behind you." Mike then said as his eyes followed the movements of someone.

Of course, telling me not to look is going to make me want to look, so I did. Only to find my dad walking towards us.

"Hey, I'm right here." Mike said and held my hand under the table.

"Hannah." My dad said and I didn't look up, I just continued eating my sandwich.

"Ok, seriously, this man is Russian, are you sure he's not a secret mafia don or something."

He got the reaction he wanted out of me.

"Of damn course I know him, I've worked with him for several months, Mike wouldn't hurt a fly, he cries if he loses a patient. Why the hell are you following us around, leave me and him the fuck alone!"

This time I was fuming, I would have lunged across the table to hit my dad, if Mike wasn't hanging tightly onto my hand underneath the table.

He laughed in my face, so I decide to be civil, if for even a few seconds.

"Why are you here after all those years when you left me and Sara? When Mom was struggling to take care of both of us?" I asked.

"Struggling? You guys got famous and made money."

"Sara got famous, not all of us. She auditioned for one commercial and then companies everywhere wanted her face in their commercials. That's how we survived, that's how we went to med school." I said, driving it into his head.

"I just want to be here for you girls now."

I gave him an 'are you serious' look and gestured to a waiter.

As the waiter walked towards us, I raised the bill for the waiter to see and placed it on the table.

With Mike's hand still in mine, we left, not before I turned around to say something to my dad:

"You are twenty years too late."

We left the diner, walking around in the cool, afternoon breeze. It wasn't too chilly as in months before back in winter.

Mike stayed silent with his hand in mine as we strolled through the little park near the hospital.

I liked being with Mike. He made everything better. It was time to go back to work and I was met by the head nurse telling me that I have a VIP I need to get to and that someone else is going to take over my patient consultations.

I said goodbye to Mike and someone's chart was pushed into my hands as I made my way to the room I was sent to. I read the name on the chart: Zayn Malik.

He's the VIP for today. I looked onto his charts at everything and his blood alcohol level was very dangerously high.

I rushed off to the room and Zayn was clutching his stomach tightly and throwing up in a garbage can as a nurse rubbed his back.

Zayn was half conscious and I questioned him. How many drinks did he have, what other drugs has he taken and the necessary questions.

Zayn managed to answer my questions, he said he had so much drinks he stopped counting and that he didn't take any drugs. I took his words with a grain of salt and still sent him to get some tests, before I noticed Zayn was going in and out of it.

"He's going to need his stomach pumped." I said and contacted the ER to get me an empty room.

I gathered a team to join me and we rushed Zayn to the ER, immediately hooking him up to some IV to get him rehydrated. I felt sorry for him, more than on a doctor level, but on a fan level. Sara and I used to dance around to One Direction and we attended Zayn's concerts whenever we could and now he's here and really drunk.