#but like- if anybody were to pull out a chart im pretty sure EVEN on a good day 60/70% of profits (and this is my lower estimate) would like

[rainbowgod666]

Captcha more like Craptcha

[mclennunf]

In My Life - Part Three

A/N: im so sorry it took so long for me to post this new part - but please enjoy

Dr. McCartney

"Mr. Kite has stomach cancer, Dr. Lennon."

Dr. Lennon's face was beat red. My heart was racing and I wanted to walk away, but I knew I had to stay put and stand my ground. I had just completely shown up my attending doctor, and I needed him to know that I was strong and wasn't going to take any of his shit. We stared intensely in each other's eyes for what seemed like an eternity. As I stood there, frozen with fear and hoping it was coming off as courage, I noticed his eyes. They were a beautiful light brown, and his eyelashes framed the beautiful shape of his eyes perfectly. I realized how long we had been staring at each other and I quickly cleared my throat and looked back down at the chart. "I suggest we start chemotherapy as soon as possible." I broke the silence and looked back up at Dr. Lennon smugly.

Dr. Lennon cleared his throat, obviously feeling some sort of tension. Apart of me hoped he had felt the same odd tension that I had felt. "You seem to be smug about the fact that one of my favourite patients could be dying of stomach cancer. All because you got a win. I suggest you march your smug little ass in there and explain this illness to Mr. Kite and give him his options. This is on you now, McCartney." Dr. Lennon said in a deep growl of a tone. I now doubted he felt the odd tension. I hadn't had to tell anybody they might be dying before. "We won't know if the cancer is terminal until the tumour is removed, so you'll need to convince him that surgery is his only hope of survival." Dr. Lennon added, crossing his arms and leaning in quite close to me.

"Yes, sir." My stomach tingled as I spoke the words. I told myself it was from my nerves, but I believed it had something to do with those beautiful light brown eyes. He rolled his eyes and walked away from me and into another patients room. I took a few deep breaths before reaching into my pocket and grabbing my phone.

Paul: Hell. Went behind Lennon's back to do a procedure he told me not to do, turns out the patient has cancer. One McCartney, zero Lennon.

Jane: Come over tonight, I wanna hear all about it.

Paul: See you tonight.

I put my phone away and held back a smile. I didn't want people thinking I was some soft resident craving approval from my attending. I had to mentally prepare myself to talk to Mr. Kite.  People his age had a higher risk of complications or death during a serious surgery. This definitely was a serious surgery. Surgery or not, he's risking his life. This was all part of the job, though. I knew this wouldn't be the most difficult thing I'd have to tell someone as a doctor, but that didn't mean it wasn't going to be difficult. I walked into Mr. Kites room and closed the door. "Hi, Mr. Kite," I began, trying to hide the shakiness of my voice. "What's going on, doctor? Cut to the chase." Mr. Kite said trying to sound tough. I could tell he was nervous. Hell, after a procedure like that I would've been nervous about the results too. "Well, Mr. Kite, we found a tumour in your stomach. Unfortunately, there's no way for us to tell if it's terminal until it's removed. That means we'll have to schedule you for surgery. But I want you to know that someone your age does have a higher risk of complication during surgery." I said softly, choosing every word that came out of my mouth with the utmost care and respect. "So, basically what you're saying is, I might die without the surgery and I might die with the surgery?" Mr. Kite asked, his eyes brimming with tears.

I felt my heart begin to beat fast as I nodded, confirming his question in regards to his likelihood to live. "That's correct, sir. But if you'd like my professional opinion, I'd suggest you go with the surgery. Our surgical team here is top notch, and we will take such good care of you... I'm so sorry Mr. Kite. If you need anything at all, please let me know." I said as calmly and collectively as I could. "Please just....just give me a few minutes." Mr. Kite requested. "Take all of the time you need, sir." I said as I stood up and exited the room slowly and silently. I sighed and leaned against the nurses station, rubbing my face. "First death sentence?" I heard Sadie's voice. I looked up and saw her sympathetic face. I half smiled and nodded. "Aw, love." She added and patted my shoulder. "That poor man." I mumbled and rubbed my eyes. "How long have you been here?" Sadie asked me as she began pouring a cup of coffee. "Since 5am yesterday." I yawned. Sadie slid the cup of black coffee into my hand. "Thank you." I said as I blew on it and took a sip. "Jesus, McCartney. Go home." She said as she took the empty cup of coffee I had sucked down away. I nodded. "I suppose I should. Thanks, Sadie." I smiled at her and headed for the doctors lounge.

I changed into my street clothes and threw my scrubs in the large hamper. I carefully put my stethoscope into my locker and locked it up. I leaned on my locker briefly and thought about Mr. Kite. I shook my head. The poor man had to decide which way he may or may not die. "You did a good thing." I heard a low growl. I turned to see Dr. Lennon standing in the door way. I straightened my back and flashed a fake smile. He shut the door and sat down on the bench facing me. He held his hands together and looked up at me with those beautiful light brown eyes. They looked tired. "I know it's difficult, McCartney. But you stood up and did what you thought was best for your patient. Even if it meant disobeying your attendings orders." I was surprised at how calm he had been speaking to me. "Look, about that, I'm sorry." I said, mustering up the courage to sit down beside him. I brushed his shoulder against mine as I sat down, sending a weird feeling shooting throughout my body. We looked at each other for a few moments. "Dr. Lennon, I won't go behind your back again." I said, breaking our eye contact and looking down at my feet. "Call me John." He said softly.

His voice sounded completely different. "You're a good doctor, Paul. You trusted your gut instinct." John observed. I nodded, the fact that he was being kind to me was astonishing. "You're lightyears ahead of the other residents in this hospital. Just don't let it get to your head, okay?" John told me, locking eyes with me again. "Thank you, John." I said quietly, not breaking our eye contact. His eyes were so intense and so soft at the same time. "Ye best not be tellin' the other residents I'm being nice to you. I have a reputation to uphold, y'know." John said. He was blushing. Dr. John Lennon was blushing. Was he? No. He couldn't be. Oh God, I had been staring at him. I laughed to hide my nervousness. "I'll take it to my grave." I joked. He stood up and opened his locker. He shimmied off his white coat and stripped his shirt, grabbing one out of his locker. I found myself staring at his broad shoulders, the strong protruding muscles in his back. I shook my head to snap myself out of it and jumped up, grabbing my bag. "I should go, thanks again John." I said confused and nervously. "D'ye wanna get a pint? There's a pub just across the way." John spun around, still shirtless and fumbling with the black long sleeve shirt in his hands. My eyes and his collar bones were like magnets. I couldn't take my eyes off of them until he slipped the shirt on. "Sure, a pint sounds good." I managed to spit out. I pulled out my phone as he finished gathering his things.

Paul: Gotta cancel.. Going for a pint with Lennon. Just invited me.

Jane: Ouu, sounds like someone has a crush. That's okay though, I had to pick up a shift.

Paul: Don't get me started lol.

"Ready?" John was in front of me, smiling now. I smiled out the side of my mouth and nodded. We exited the hospital into the late afternoon grey sky. John wasn't lying when he said the pub was just across the way, it took us less than 30 steps from the door of the hospital to the two stools in front of the bar. John was obviously a regular, because the man behind the bar flashed him a smile and John held up two fingers. The man nodded and brought us two pints. "So," John began as he took a long swig from his pint. "Where did you go to med school?" He asked. "Quarrybank. Not the nicest of schools, but me Dad never had a lot of money. Rode through school on as many scholarships as I could get." I told him, taking a swig from my own. It felt so nice to taste that pint after all of the shit I had dealt with in the last 24 hours. "Ah, Quarrybank. I went there meself. Not bad at all." John smiled, obviously reminiscing on the memory. "You can't be much older than me, how come I never saw you?" I asked. "I started when I was 18, graduated when I was 21.I'm 26 now,  I'm a bit older than ye, Macca." John said, making me smile at the nickname. "I'm 23 now. So I suppose you would've graduated the year before I started." I observed. John seemed like a completely different person when he didn't have his white coat on.

"23 eh? You seem older." John said, ordering two more pints. "Eh! What's that suppose to mean?" I laughed and touched my face, jokingly checking for wrinkles. John chuckled. "Bugger off, Macca. I just mean that yer very mature and extremely smart." John complimented me. "Ah, you are soft." I laughed and elbowed his arm, feeling that same weird feeling shoot through my body as I touched him. "I said bugger off!" John was literally giggling now. "I'm just observant. I can make pretty good judgement. I had a good idea about you when I met you. You're one of the only residents who isn't struggling. Bloody hell mate," John chucked, "Wait until you have to deal with interns. I swear to God they get stupider every year." He told me. I thought of George. "One of me mates is one of your interns. Harrison." I told him, hoping for a positive response. "Ah Harrison. He's the small one? I think he'll do fine. He's a nervous bugger, though. He'll have to get over that. Gave him a good scare, I did." John chuckled again. I was relieved that he didn't say anything too negative. "I'm not surprised. What's with the tough guy act, anyhow?" I asked, sipping on my third pint. "It's not an act, really. I don't get along with many people, and I want to make sure my interns and residents turn out to be good doctors. Figure the arsehole attending should be able to scare it into them." John told me as he shrugged.

I shrugged as well and finished my pint. "Another?" John asked, waving at the bartender before I could even answer. "I suppose so." I laughed and flashed him a smile, he paused and looked at me. He smiled as I watched his eyes linger on my lips for a few moments before we were interrupted by the bartender replacing our empty glasses with full pints. John held up his pint.

"To you, McCartney. Welcome to Sgt. Peppers." John said, flashing the smile that would soon be imprinted in my mind.