Sweet slumber of no dreams… Alan had slept heavily the whole night through, not disturbed by his ringing cell phone. He awoke as he recognized the sound of knocking on his door, and he shot out of the sofa as he realized that he might have overslept to the psychiatric evaluation he was scheduled for this morning.
"Alan, are you in there?" a familiar voice yelled. Alan rushed to the door and opened it, still with confusion plastered to his drowsy face.
"Jeffrey???" He stared dumbly on the man standing outside in the hallway with a smile on his face.
"Alan, you look like crap!" he stated as he walked into the apartment and let Alan lock the door after him. Alan stared at him as if he didn't believe his own eyes.
"What are you *doing* here?" he asked with his forehead in a frown. Then his features turned into panic.
"What time is it???!" he squealed and rushed towards the bathroom.
"Don't worry, you have two hours till your little appointment!" Jeffrey assured from the living room: "And I'm here to make sure you make that appointment. I would advise you to change clothes, that suit you're wearing looks like you've slept in it!"
"That's because I *have*!" Alan yelled back as he squirted cold water into his face. Jeffrey was right, he looked like crap… The print of one of the sofa cushions was etched into his left cheek and his eyes were red and sore. Alan reckoned he needed a miracle to convince a psychiatric board of his sanity in this state.. And as if that wasn't enough he would be nauseous and moody due to the hormone shot he just took.
As Alan hurried over to the bedroom where he kept his clothes he couldn't help but wonder *why* Jeffrey was standing in his living room right now, glaring at one of Alan's paintings hanging on the wall. What was his interest in all of this? Why would he care about Alan making his appointment with a bunch of shrinks or not? As he dressed a sudden sting to his abdomen ordered him to calm down.
"Don't you starting acting up on me as well!" Alan muttered towards his belly as he buttoned his shirt.
"Are you talking to your tummy, Alan?" Jeffrey asked from the living room. Dammit that man had the hearing of a hare!
"I was talking to myself!" Alan said as he stepped into the living room, struggling with the knot of his tie.
"Sure, if you say so." Jeffrey raised his shoulders: "Are you ready?"
"Yes… I think so…" Alan said as he picked up his briefcase and the cell phone he found under an armchair. He had a nagging feeling that he'd forgotten something, but what…
"Wait!" he yelled as he realised what he'd forgotten. Jeffrey took his hand of the doorknob.
"What?!" Alan dropped his briefcase and hurried back to the bedroom.
"I forgot to put on the corset!" Jeffrey walked after him and yanked him away from the closet before Alan had the chance to open it.
"You don't need it any more, Alan. Everybody knows, remember?" he said and patted his shoulder. Jeffrey looked down on the visible bulk hiding behind the lawyer's jacket.
"It's time you let Junior roam free," he added with a crocked smile. Alan drew a deep breath and braced himself.
"Well, I guess it's time to meet the world, then.." he mumbled and walked outside the door with his back not as straight as usual.
*-*
"What the hell are you doing, supporting Alan like this!!!" Philip Watters' fury had no end these days, and now it was Jeffrey's turn to taste the heat.
"He's one man against the world, he's scared. He has no family, and he needs someone to back him up, "Jeffrey simply answered, not intimidated by the hissing Puerto Rican sitting in front of him.
"You're encouraging him to continue this lunacy!" Philip barked and slammed a fist to his desk. Jeffrey raised his eyebrows.
"I'm not encouraging anything! Alan is only a man, he needs some backup. Under this kind of pressure anyone might buckle."
"If you'd stayed out of this Alan would have agreed to go along with the abortion by now!" Philip wouldn't budge. He hadn't spoken a word to Alan since yesterday and wasn't going to either. Not until Alan had come to his senses. That Jeffrey had interfered and showed Alan some support drove Philip's plan to the ground. As long as no one had stepped forward and showed Alan some kindness he would have realized his error and gone along with the abortion. Cruel but effective. But of course the great Jeffrey Geiger finally decided to show some decency for a change and that when it was his cruelty Philip had hoped for.
"Why are you getting so upset by this, Philip? It's not like Alan's murdered someone or anything!" Jeffrey said with his arms across his chest. Philip glared at him.
"Alan's a man. Men don't give birth to children!"
"So it's a biblical thing?" Jeffrey asked and tilted his head. Philip's cheeks went red with fury in an instant.
"Of course it's a biblical thing!" he yelled: "And it's unnatural and it's not allowed!!! Alan deliberately went behind my back, Jeffrey! I'm not going to forget that! I trusted that man, he was like a son to me!"
"I had a son once. He died two years old, but he still did the wrong things sometimes, even when he knew daddy wouldn't approve," Jeffrey said with raised shoulders: "Children makes the wrong choices sometimes, and it's the parents' job to support them no matter what." Philip's eyes became narrowed little slits.
"Don't patronize me, Jeffrey!" he snarled through gritted teeth: "I will never approve of what Alan has done, never!"
*-*
Alan's day went by in a haze. To his great shock a stranger was seated by the desk when he entered his own office. Apparently Philip had decided it was time Alan went on maternity leave…
"You must be the expectant mum!" the tall man with an abundance of gold rings on his fingers announced as Alan took one hesitant step into what once had been his office.
"I'm Gregory Deck, I'm here to substitute for you while you are given a indefinite leave of absence. I tried to call you last night but you never answered the phone…" He held out his hand towards Alan.
"Oh." Alan wished he could vanish into thin air: "I guess I'll be on my way then."
"Alright, see you in court!" Mr. Deck said and dived back down into a considerable large sized pile of papers.
"Excuse me… what?" Alan turned in confusion. The bald-headed man lifted his gaze lazily.
"I will also be leading the case against you. Philip told me you would represent yourself, admirable!" he said in the kind of stuck up friendly tone that only a million dollar lawyer would use. Alan crept out of his office with his tail between his legs. How much humiliation could he take? And how much money was Philip spending on breaking Alan's spirit??
Jeffrey bumped into him down the hall, and Alan jerked away as if he'd been burned. He was afraid of being snapped at again.
"Hey, relax Alan! I'm not gonna bite you!" Jeffrey assured and patted Alan's shoulder.
"I'm.. I'm sorry!" Alan excused: "I think I'm a little off today.." He rubbed his neck and gazed into thin air as he often did when he was trying to think.
"Just remember to breathe and you'll be alright!"
"It's easy for you to say, you haven't had your brain evaluated by three scowling psychiatrists!" Alan moaned, and remembered his meeting earlier that morning. An eyebrow rose to the air as Jeffrey looked down at him.
"Insane elevator man, remember?" he said with poorly hidden sarcasm. Alan's cheeks went red.
"Oh, you're right!" he squealed: "How could I forget that!?" Jeffrey chuckled.
"Don't you just hate it when they use the word *describe* when they want you to spill your guts?!" he added and shook his head. Alan's eyes went vivid:
"I can't stand that!!" Alan agreed, gesturing both hands to his head: "And I *hate* the superior tone they always use, as if they know everything that goes on inside your brain!"
"Exactly!" Jeffrey nodded: "They make you feel like a tick!" They both chuckled to this, and then the awkward silence that always appeared when they ran out of things to say came. Alan stood frozen for a few seconds, not knowing what to say.
"I'll better get on my way… I have a doctor's appointment in five minutes.." he mumbled shyly.
"Yeah, better get on my way my self.. busy schedule!" Jeffrey said and gave Alan a nod.
"There's just one more thing…" he added, making Alan stop.
"I would consider buying some new clothes if I were you. The ones you have seem to be getting a little too tight around the waist.." he said with a smirk before he hurried down the halls again. Alan gaped at him, at first not liking what the heart surgeon was inclining, but then he took a second look, down on his pouting stomach and decided Jeffrey was right. During the period he'd worn the corset Alan's clothes fit easily, but now it was easy to see that Alan was growing too big for his old suits.
*-*
Later that same day Alan learned that lawyer Deck had called for a press conference the following day, without inviting Alan. Just as fine, actually, Alan wasn't ready to confess his pregnancy for the whole world yet. Besides, Philip would probably be there, and Alan wasn't ready to face him either. But the rumours about his pregnancy seemed gullible enough for most reporters as they still were swarming the hospital like rats smelling blood. Alan half expected them to come bursting through the walls when he was at his first appointment with the doctor that would be in charge of his pregnancy for the time being. Melissa Gargoyle was the unpleasant name of an unpleasant woman. She looked like she was handling a disgusting snail during her examination of Alan.
After an hour of pricks, Ultra Sounds, measuring, weighing and other pregnancy related things she declared him healthy as a fish, except from a high blood pressure, and sent him on his way with the following message.
"You're not a woman, Mr. Birch, you're not supposed to be graced with such a condition. There are thousands of women out there I would rather help having a baby than you! You make me sick, the way you alter the rules to your own advantage!"
Alan said nothing in his defence. He was too busy preparing his mind for the coming day. The pressure from the media was already quite high from the tabloids, but Alan could add ten times the pressure by this time tomorrow, when the ones that considered themselves the serious part of media would start the race to have exclusivity to the story about the sad little man who went against nature. He'd already handed over all the papers he'd conveniently removed from Dreyford's office, knowing any refusal to do so would end up in suing and accusing him of stealing hospital property.
It was quite a surprise for Alan to discover that so far Jeffrey Geiger was his only support. Everybody else avoided him like Typhoid. He'd accidentally crossed the path of Aaron Shutt, and he'd pretended he didn't see him at all. Alan soon realized he had nothing to do in Chicago Hope as it were now. His job was taken from him, and the scowls he received by everybody that graced him with a glare as he passed by was enough to scare any man to a life behind bars.
So Alan decided to give everybody the break they seemed to need, and to go to some clothing stores, and have that problem out of the way before the journalists and TV-teams started to follow at his heals. Now, shopping for clothes had never been much fun for Alan, and this day proved no different. A lawyer has to dress respectable, and that means fitting clothes. Everything Alan tried on was either too tight in the waist or had to long arms and legs.
"Don't worry, I'll have that fixed for you by tomorrow if you're in a hurry!" the expiditian slash tailor assured with a winning smile.
"Am I right if I guess that you're a lawyer?" he asked smugly as he started to fold the arms of the jacket Alan was trying on. Alan glared at his own reflection in the mirror. He looked older than his thirtyour years. These last couple of days had left their mark on him. He seemed to have lost the trusty look that always had stood by him no matter how many times he'd been let down. The last drop, he reckoned. Sooner or later he would have to loose his faith to this world.
"I have a big trial coming up next Friday. I need at least seven new suits ready to then and delivered at my apartment. Do you think you can handle that?" Alan didn't even look at the man as he spoke. He was too afraid to discover recent in another human being's eyes.
"Sure can, Mr. Birch! You just show me what suits you want and let me measure you and I'll start working on them right away!" the corpulent man beamed. He looked like he just had won the state fare.
*-*
Alan sat in front of the TV set in the living room of his apartment, hand resting on top of his stomach. The press conference on Chicago Hope started in two minutes, and it seemed like every major TV- channel was airing what was guessed to be a major medical break through.
"I guess you'll be on everybody's lips tonight, sweetie," he addressed his unborn daughter as a certain Gregory Deck appeared on the TV-screen. What was that, a Gucci-suit?! And behind the overpaid lawyer, on his left, Philip was standing, face grey as ashen.
"He looks as terrible as me," Alan mumbled, rubbing his cheek half in surprise. After some seconds of silence, Mr. Deck opened his mouth.
"Good day, ladies and gentlemen! I've called for this press conference today to shed light to a rumour that seems to have been circulating both in Chicago Hope and the media the last couple of days. First of all I want to make it perfectly clear that what I'm about to reveal is the solemn act of the late scientist Marion Dreyford, who died tragically in a car accident some months ago. Secondly, and this is important; this woman did not act with Chicago Hope's medical board's permission, this is the act of this woman alone!"
"Cut to the case!" someone down in the audience yelled. A slight blush appeared on the lawyer's cheeks before he continued.
"A couple of days ago Philip Watters, the hospital manager, learned that Ms. Dreyford indeed went through with her plans and started testing out an unauthorised pregnancy on a male subject in the months before she died." A roar of mumbling could be heard and Alan immediately decided not to take a step outside his apartment until the trial had begun.
"This pregnancy was never meant to be, and the hospital board has decided it best to be terminated immediately. Unfortunately the test subject denies to end the pregnancy, and this has forced Watters to go to trial against Chicago Hope's former lawyer, Mr. Alan Birch."
Alan turned off the TV. So Mr. Deck just *had* to mention his full name, didn't he! He would have people running down his apartment in matter of minutes. That sly son of a bitch!
"Well, I'd just as well get started on our defence, don't you think?" he said as he checked one last time that he had locked the entrance door and headed out to his home office.
*-*
The day of the trial finally arrived. Alan had been living in a nightmare of pushy journalists and TV-crews constantly calling him for a statement or an interview. And when they realised he didn't answer his phone they started knocking on his door instead. He received daily hate mail from people who hoped he would burn in hell and so forth for his deadly sin. Alan even had groups of angry women marching outside his window, screaming towards the man who'd dared to steal women's most precious gift. Banners like "God made women for a reason, stop eradicating us!" and "The Devil's seed must die!" was waved towards Alan's window up in the third floor with much excitement and dedication. Little sleep was granted the weary lawyer as he prepared for the trial of his life, and by the arrival of the eight and final day, a little seed of doubt had been planted in his mind.
Maybe Philip had a point. What kind of life could Alan offer his daughter in a world that was already treating her like a freak?
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