Fandom: Phantom of the Opera
: Please don't sue. I don't own *insert fandom name from above*... All I own is an overactive imagination.
Summary: AU. I shoved the POTO characters into a hospital setting. Slash btw, as though I write anything but.
Warning(s): slash, AU
: Erik/Raoul
Word Count: 1,202

A/N: An AU, what? It's just a bit of fun with slash and a challenge from a comm on LJ that's no longer active, 10_what_ifs. It's all in good fun and I know nothing about doctors beside the fact that they heal patients. So, when/if anything is blatantly wrong, just ignore it. Or tell me and then I'll feel bad at my ignorance but proceed to change nothing in the fic because it's pretty much planned out already.
Story note: No Monsieurs in this one. Just names, maybe a Mr because this doesn't have to be a hospital in France, though it could be. w/e


Garnier Hospital - Doctors
By: Lucifer Rosemaunt


Raoul could almost convince himself that he was finally settling in a hospital that had a future for him. Almost.

It shouldn't have been difficult to find a hospital to work at in the first place. He was more than well-qualified. However, he was also more than certain his family played a large part in his inability to find a job anywhere but at the Chagny Hospital.

They had connections. So many that Raoul had almost abandoned his search for another job before he even began, but surprisingly, it had been Philippe, the one most staunchly against him leaving, that gave in first. He not only gave his approval to Raoul's decision, but he gave a list of hospitals both in nearby cities and far ones that he'd thought their parents had yet to call.

In retrospect, he'd been eager and perhaps a bit too hopeful. Philippe had been wrong of course. His parents were nothing if not thorough in their desire to keep Raoul working in their hospital. His own patients had even begun to ask him not to leave; it remained unspoken that they would not follow him when or if he did leave.

After one rejection followed the other with excuses that all translated to 'your parents advised us not to hire you,' he'd almost finally given in to their wishes for him to remain with the family business. That is, until at dinner, Philippe had surreptitiously handed him a business card to the Garnier Hospital.

Conceding to himself that this was the last hospital he would attempt to move to, Raoul made the call and gave his information. Several days later, he'd tackled his brother in a bone crushing hug after he'd gotten the call back.

Apparently, the hospital was under new management, and Philippe had known that their parents would never be able to reach them before Raoul signed his contract. It was a small victory, considering that he would have never known had Philippe not helped him and that in the end, it really had only come to pass through pure dumb luck, but Raoul was more than willing to take whatever he could get.

Once his job was secure, he informed his parents that he would be leaving along with the fact that he would be moving from their eight bedroom household in the suburbs for a loft in the city that was more than half an hour away. It was liberating, though he had a tinge of regret leaving Philippe there. His brother didn't seem to care at all though as he patted him on the back, telling him that no matter what happened, he'd always be there to help if needed.

His first meeting with the new management, men by the names of Andre and Firmin, had been rather refreshing. They hadn't given him that weighted look, the one filled with judgment from only knowing his surname, from his parents, or from the whole Chagny legacy in the medical field.

In truths, that had been entirely his fault for thinking it was a good sign. He'd just managed to fool himself and come unprepared when he happened to come across the other doctors. They weren't as ignorant as the management, and in the few days that he'd been working, Raoul had been the center of some unspoken animosity. From what he could gather, they all thought he'd gotten the job because of his name, as though the administration would be so incompetent to hire a man without the proper education.

Raoul scoffed at the thought. His name had been what had been keeping him from jobs.

It was an assumption he was accustomed to though. His name came before who he was. His family was successful and apparently, success meant that he'd never worked for anything in his life.

Even so, this hospital was better than none. This hospital, that was far enough from his family, that was even far from his own loft, was preferable to the stifling life his family wished for him to have. Was it so difficult to want to be his own man? He was utterly grateful to them for paying for his education, although he noted that he would one day repay them in full. He just needed time. That didn't give them the right to control the rest of his life though.

He sighed. He wanted to feel hopeful again, as energized as he'd been when the idea to leave first came to mind. Actually, he wished he could rewind the painful process of disillusionment of the past few days. He thought himself to be a very optimistic person, but even that optimism could only last so long after almost a week of having only clinic patients and no real long term case.

He didn't know what to think. It had something to do with the other doctors, but really, illness was one of the things not lacking in the world. How could he not have any long-term patients? He'd wrapped so many broken limbs, iced just as many sprains, and prescribed medicine to coughs, fevers, flus, and colds, that he wondered if he should just remain in the outpatient wing of the hospital instead of trying to make friends with doctors who already despised him for no reason but his name.

But, he reminded himself constantly, he wasn't in the medical field to make friends. They'd eventually – he hoped – come around. Until then, he could focus on helping people get better. That had been and would always be his goal. He couldn't forget that.

However, he still needed patients to do that, and that was where he would have problems. How would he ever get referrals? The normal way would be from his colleagues, connections, or family. The last two, he'd specifically run away from, and the former, well, the former despised him.

There was always the option that stayed in the corner of his mind. He could give in and go back to his family. It wasn't as though they didn't have the best of intentions for him. They simply tried to do too much.

Shaking his head, he forced that defeatist mentality away. Philippe believed in him, and if he tried hard enough, he believed in himself as well. He was going to make his own decisions and build his life from his own strength and abilities. He was a doctor. His family hadn't passed the MCATs for him or suffered through residency. It was himself. He was paying rent with money he had earned.

He could do this.

It probably would have been a little easier though if he had someone he could talk to. His brother was always busy, and either way, Raoul didn't want to complain to him. He didn't want to reveal that he wasn't as happy as he thought he'd be. He could stand to be lonely. It wasn't as though the television didn't provide good company in the large empty loft or that eating lunch at a bench by himself outside of the hospital was bad. Just new.

New and utterly isolating.

He simply refused to complain though. This was his choice and he'd see it through.


End chapter

A/N: Don't forget to R/R (Read and Review)!
Story Note: Raoul's a doctor and for some reason I have this image of Doogie Howser in my mind even though he's not even young enough. And sorry, I don't know how doctors get their patients, but let's pretend he doesn't.