Jump to content

Next of Kin - Rated R


Recommended Posts

(Val's recent submission inspired me to start a chapter by chapter posting, hopefully it'll give me the kick-start to finish it.

This is a first draft, so be kind on the grammar and spelling, but I'm open to comments and suggestions)

Next of Kin

Written by pendragon1980 and Brian Coltrane

Special thanks to LostSheep3 for beta reading...

******

Outside the red brick building, Chance pounded the last stake in the ground and stood back, admiring her work. She had been in Hazzard for over a year now, she decided finally it was time to place her stake in the ground, figuratively and literally. What she had placed in the lawn in front of the sidewalk was a large, wooden carved sign, with the following inscription….

Hazzard County Medical Office

Chance Walker, M.D. G.S.

Although since she had taken over Applby’s office, people knew where to find the local doctor, but placing this sign in the ground, seemed to make it official. She was here in Hazzard to stay. She had come to love the small town, the people she met here and how she was treated, not only as a respected surgeon but a family doctor that people could come to in their time of need. They even had gotten use to her rather unorthodox dress of jeans, tshirts and motorcycle boots with a stethoscope hanging around her neck in the office. Although she hasn’t planned on it, they had let her into their community.

It was a feeling Chance had had some time getting used to. Being place in a nun run orphanage at the tender age of four months, she had never known her true family. Other children she made friends with would often get adopted and she’d never see them again, so Chance closed that part of her heart off and concentrated on her studies instead. Even back then, she had a formidable temper and a will of her own, so often she got passed up for adoption herself.

She remembered well the day the Mother Superior came to her, nearing her 18th birthday, and tossed a packet of papers in front of Chance. There were college entrance applications. Chance had no illusions that she needed to find a path soon, the orphanage couldn’t keep her any longer. So she answered the nun’s challenge and filled them out, and had been accepted on a scholarship to Georgia University. From there, she had continued her way to medical school, graduating in the top five in her class, thanks for her dogged determination to succeed.

Link to comment
Share on other sites

But college had been lonely in its own way. Not that Chance was hurting for attention, especially male, in fact in the freedom of being away from the orphanage Chance became a bit of a wild child, but again, she never opened her heart.

…Until she came to Hazzard. Somehow, someway, the people here broke through the barriers Chance had spent a lifetime building and now she felt a bond with them she couldn’t imagine not having before.

The young doctor’s pondering was interrupted by someone clearing their throat behind her.

While Chance had been focused on the sign, she herself had been the focus of someone else. The man who watched her had approached silently and stood motionless while she worked, not wanting to interrupt. The sign placement was a practicality, as well as a symbolic gesture of her permanence in Hazzard. As such, it was proper for Chance to finish the task on her own.

Though it was a construction mallet and not a surgeon's blade in her hands, Chance worked with effective precision. The man watching her found each motion to be mesmerizing, breathtaking. Sunlight added a warm glow to Chance's lustrous blonde hair; her elegant face was serious as she worked. Her tall body, slender and firm, was bending this way and that as she worked with the sign, her long legs covered in skin-tight jeans, and her curved torso hugged by a white, sleeveless tshirt.

The man watching her was a contrast indeed. His clothing was entirely black; from the boots, to the jeans, to the shirt, and to the leather jacket which hung open over his shoulders. Only the jacket zipper and belt buckle offered another color with their subtle, silver tone.

The darkness in his visage was accented by brown eyes and a proud mane of brown hair. He remained in place for several minutes, the only motion caused by a hot Georgia breeze stirring his hair, an unruly tuft ruffling over one temple.

Though his outward appearance had not changed since his days in the Atlanta Syndicate, Hazzard had brought about changes within him. Though his reform was not complete and perhaps never would be, his Coltrane kin had come into his life in time enough to make a difference. That difference was visible within the expression of his dark eyes; the troubled shadows had faded, the soul within haunted by fewer demons. There was warmth in the dark-eyed gaze as he watched Chance Walker; warmth, and a simmering passion that kept him staring at her with healthy male appreciation.

It was only when Chance stood back to admire her work, that Brian came up close and cleared his throat for her attention. He spoke to her, his words holding an Atlantan drawl and a smile...


Link to comment
Share on other sites


"Nice sign, Doc. I bet it sends more business yer way." 

Pausing, Brian examined the sign another moment before feigning concern on a personal front. "Does this mean you no longer take walk-in appointments for mah complimentary physicals?"

Chance smiled widely without turning around, the drawl behind her was unmistakable and very familiar. It had not always been so. When the young doctor first arrived in Hazzard, she had warned away from the notorious Brian Coltrane. So when they had finally met, Chance was downright rude and insulting, which oddly enough seemed to fascinate him. Sharp wit turned into teasing flirtations and then gradually, unexpectedly, into something more romantic and passionate…then finally into words of love. Although the biting humor had never quite left, now it just usually had a more provocative twist.

She kept her back to Brian as she spoke, not quite wanting him see the wicked humor in her blue eyes….just yet.

“I might consider making an exception, for the right motivations of course. Although there is no doubt you are the healthiest man in Hazzard, Brian. Especially considering how often those physicals are getting to be.†Now Chance did glance over her shoulder with a slow teasing sweep over the black clad body from the boots to the dark hair.

"How can ah be the healthiest man in Hazzard," Brian replied, "With these symptoms?" He stepped closer, his voice lowering as to not be overheard. "When ah see you, mah pulse speeds up, n' my knees get weak. I get butterflies in mah stomach, and my eyes glaze over. Mah breathin' gets deeper, n' there's this powerful, overwhelmin' urge to carry you off someplace n' have mah way with you."

With this being spoken, Brian gently grasped one of Chance's hands, bringing it up to his mouth to plant a tender kiss to the palm. His dark eyes lifted to meet the mirthful blue glaze.

Lordy, talking about spikes in pulse and blood pressure… the heat held within those dark eyes was doing a fine job of it. The next thought in Chance’s mind was to tell Brian to run with that instinct, she certainly wouldn’t object. But then, unfortunately, it would be a long, long time before she got anything done at the office that day, if any at all. 

“I’d consider that very healthy indeed, considering I get much the same reaction when I see you.†Chance let out a deep, heartfelt sigh. “But we’ll have to hold that thought until later. Duty calls. After all…â€The young doctor smiled at Brian. “..Some of us have to make an honest living, you know. But after the office is closed, I’m all yours tonight, handsome. â€

Link to comment
Share on other sites

At the words "Some of us have to make an honest living," Brian smiled, but his dark eyes flickered with an internal reaction. 

He hid it with a mild chuckle and a gentle squeeze of Chance's hand. He answered her invitation for an evening rendezvous with a nod. "Then ah'll see you later, mah love." 

His smile remained as he released her hand and turned away. His stride was long but unhurried as he walked towards town, his demeanor appearing confident and casual. 

But as he rounded the corner and was out of sight of the medical office, a sigh deflated him and his walk slowed. 

Some of us have to make an honest living. Chance had spoken the words in humor, and not in any implied rebuke. To Brian, however, it was a subtle reminder that he had nothing to offer this woman for a future. He had no steady job; no prospects of a decent career. He was only able to find work doing odd jobs for farmers that needed a strong back; and sometimes he worked for the County to pay back fines.

And though he took great pains to hide it, there were times he would disappear to Atlanta for hours, sometimes even days at a stretch...and return with a full wallet. The ties to his past had been loosened, but they were not truely broken. Not yet. He always told himself each trip to the Jigsaw would be his last, and while shrugging off the prophetic double-meaning those words could have, he consoled himself with the cash.

None of this gave him any stability for the future. He often felt he was a burden to his kin; the meager salaries of a Sheriff and Deputy didn't go far when Boss usually found a way to withold a portion of the paychecks. Hell, MaryAnne worked a second job at the Boar's Nest for a few more bucks of spending money. All in all, both of his cop-cousins worked too hard, and risked too much, with too little to show for it. 

It was further proof, in Brian's mind, why an honest living in Hazzard was no living at all. It seemed little more than slavery, albeit the slavery of one's choice.

Chance Walker had it somewhat better; she was in business for herself and was her own boss. Even then, she often took patients that had no reasonable means of ever paying for the care they received. Because of this, she was not exempt from cash flow crunches. 

Medicines and supplies had to be paid for up front; services were rendered to patients as needed; but then the patients paid what they could. Their insurance, if they had any, paid as little as possible, and that was it. The whole thing was a problem larger than Chance's medical practice; but because it affected her, and Brian cared deeply for her, it troubled him. 

If he was a man with an honest past, capable of earning an honest living....there might be more he could do to help his kin, and to help Chance. Instead, he was caught halfway between hell and reform, and legitimate opportunities at this junture of life were noticeably few. 

He dwelled on these thoughts as his bootsteps took him further away from the medical office. He didn't deserve a woman like Chance Walker; she was beautiful, graceful, witty, and keenly intelligent; she was also a career woman who had worked damn hard for what she had. She deserved a man who had something going for him and who could contribute to her stability and future. Like another doctor. A lawyer, maybe. Someone who could really take care of her. 

Someone unlike himself. 

Brian's preoccupied walk took him to the courthouse steps. He set one black boot on them, having originally planned to visit his cousins at work, and help them out where he could...but now he didn't feel much like facing them either. 

He turned away and walked to Diablo. Minutes later, the long black Chevy slipped out of town, heading for roads unknown.

Chance watched Brian walked away, noting the slight slump of the jacketed shoulders, as if a weight had been placed there. Shaking her head, she promised herself that she would ask him about it later that night. Chance had no way of knowing she would never make her evening date with Brian.

The sound of a motorcycle brought Chance‘s attention back to the road and Miz Tizdale, who was grinning at her as she had parked at the curb and was walking up the path to the clinic, mail in hand. Up being the operative word since Chance had nearly a two foot height advantage on the older woman. She returned the smile as the Tizdale handed Chance her own and the office’s mail, including an official-looking envelope . She also caught Tizdale sneaking a rather wistful glance at the doctor’s powerful red racing cycle parked in the driveway.

“You know, my route would go a lot faster if I could trade on my old cycle for something like that.â€

Chance had to stopped herself from chuckling at the image of the elderly woman zipping on the Hazzard back roads on a sleek sports bike. “If I ever need to sell mine, Emma, I’ll let you know. We biker babes got to stick together.†She winked playfully as the mail carrier left.

Chance used her fingernail to slice open the envelope, pulling the letter out, the smile faded from her face for a moment. The young doctor said nothing for several minutes, looking down at the words. Thoughtfully she tucked the papers into her jeans, looking back at the clinic.

“Maybe I built the sign too soon.â€

There was alot of work to do. Chance thought as she headed back into the clinic, she had some phone calls to make and some old favors past due.

(To be continued...)

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 1 month later...

It was a few hours later, when Brian's aimless driving led him home again. It was dinnertime, and the cars in the driveway showed that MaryAnne and Rosco were already home. Brian parked Diablo and went inside the house, not feeling much like conversation, but knowing that avoiding dinner would send up a red flag to his investigatively-natured cousins.

Without explanation for being late, Brian walked into the kitchen, grabbed a plate, and heaped it up as if he had an appetite. He took his usual spot at the table, muttering a dry "Howdy" to his cousins, keeping his eyes on the food. He poked around with it half-heartedly until MaryAnne's voice startled him out of his silence.

"You gonna eat that, cousin, or are you just examining it?"

The emotions, close to the surface for hours, could no longer be hidden. "I guess I'm just lookin' for somethin' that ain't there." Sighing, Brian put down his fork, and glanced over at MaryAnne. “That, and ah’m wishin’ I was somebody else.â€

MaryAnne and Rosco had both noticed Brian's quiet mood when he came home, and had figured whatever it was that was bothering him would come out eventually. MaryAnne was just surprised it came out this quick. She glanced at Rosco and then settled her gaze back on her black-clad cousin with concern. "What's wrong?"

"It just hit me today that I ain't got much to offer anybody." A tone of frustration tinged the words. "I've changed mah life, but I'll nevah be able to change it enough to fit in where I don't belong."

MaryAnne's features creased in question. What brought all this on? "Change takes time, cousin...." she offered. "There was a time when you never would have believed you'd be where you are right now... You do belong here." The young deputy's blue eyes searched Brian's expression from across the table.

His dark eyes met the gaze, then flicked back down at the plate. "Ah appreciate this home n' all, don’t get me wrong." A deep sigh came from within the black-clad chest. "Maybe...it's that there's only so far I can go. An' there's only so far that I can be in somebody's life." Brian fell silent, bringing a glass of milk to his mouth as if to swallow down the words.

At this, Rosco shifted his weight in the chair he sat in. MaryAnne caught the movement and realized he understood what was bothering Brian, and that she was about a pace behind. The elder Coltrane looked at his young cousin and put the entire issue forward with the utterance of a single name. "Chance?"

Miserably, Brian nodded. "Used to think we had a lot in common...both grew up in Atlanta an' had a rough start. But she overcame it the right way n' made a good life for herself. She's got an education n' her own career. Ah've got...squat."

MaryAnne hid her dissatisfaction with the 'squat' comment by taking a drink of her milk. Rosco felt it though and he gave Brian a half-smile. "No...you don't have squat. You and Chance still do have a lot in common. Just because y'all didn't overcome that rough start at the same time, doesn't make you any less worthy to her."

Brian sighed and moved back from the table. "Ah'm not exactly a big contributor around here, either." With this, he got up and put his plate of barely-touched food in the fridge; the household budget didn't allow for waste.

He walked past the table, but before leaving, paused at the doorway. He looked at his cousins with an expression of apology, though his mood of self-condemnation didn't accept their reassurances. A moment later, the screen door banged with his exit.

Rosco sighed and dropped his napkin on the table. Before he could push the chair back, MaryAnne spoke. "Rosco....just let him go."

"MaryAnne---"

"Just leave him alone, Rosco. We've been through this before." She sighed. "He'll figure it out."

Link to comment
Share on other sites

  • 7 months later...
It was a few hours later, when Brian's aimless driving led him home again. It was dinnertime, and the cars in the driveway showed that MaryAnne and Rosco were already home. Brian parked Diablo and went inside the house, not feeling much like conversation, but knowing that avoiding dinner would send up a red flag to his investigatively-natured cousins.

Without explanation for being late, Brian walked into the kitchen, grabbed a plate, and heaped it up as if he had an appetite. He took his usual spot at the table, muttering a dry "Howdy" to his cousins, keeping his eyes on the food. He poked around with it half-heartedly until MaryAnne's voice startled him out of his silence.

"You gonna eat that, cousin, or are you just examining it?"

The emotions, close to the surface for hours, could no longer be hidden. "I guess I'm just lookin' for somethin' that ain't there." Sighing, Brian put down his fork, and glanced over at MaryAnne. “That, and ah’m wishin’ I was somebody else.â€

MaryAnne and Rosco had both noticed Brian's quiet mood when he came home, and had figured whatever it was that was bothering him would come out eventually. MaryAnne was just surprised it came out this quick. She glanced at Rosco and then settled her gaze back on her black-clad cousin with concern. "What's wrong?"

"It just hit me today that I ain't got much to offer anybody." A tone of frustration tinged the words. "I've changed mah life, but I'll nevah be able to change it enough to fit in where I don't belong."

MaryAnne's features creased in question. What brought all this on? "Change takes time, cousin...." she offered. "There was a time when you never would have believed you'd be where you are right now... You do belong here." The young deputy's blue eyes searched Brian's expression from across the table.

His dark eyes met the gaze, then flicked back down at the plate. "Ah appreciate this home n' all, don’t get me wrong." A deep sigh came from within the black-clad chest. "Maybe...it's that there's only so far I can go. An' there's only so far that I can be in somebody's life." Brian fell silent, bringing a glass of milk to his mouth as if to swallow down the words.

At this, Rosco shifted his weight in the chair he sat in. MaryAnne caught the movement and realized he understood what was bothering Brian, and that she was about a pace behind. The elder Coltrane looked at his young cousin and put the entire issue forward with the utterance of a single name. "Chance?"

Miserably, Brian nodded. "Used to think we had a lot in common...both grew up in Atlanta an' had a rough start. But she overcame it the right way n' made a good life for herself. She's got an education n' her own career. Ah've got...squat."

MaryAnne hid her dissatisfaction with the 'squat' comment by taking a drink of her milk. Rosco felt it though and he gave Brian a half-smile. "No...you don't have squat. You and Chance still do have a lot in common. Just because y'all didn't overcome that rough start at the same time, doesn't make you any less worthy to her."

Brian sighed and moved back from the table. "Ah'm not exactly a big contributor around here, either." With this, he got up and put his plate of barely-touched food in the fridge; the household budget didn't allow for waste.

He walked past the table, but before leaving, paused at the doorway. He looked at his cousins with an expression of apology, though his mood of self-condemnation didn't accept their reassurances. A moment later, the screen door banged with his exit.

Rosco sighed and dropped his napkin on the table. Before he could push the chair back, MaryAnne spoke. "Rosco....just let him go."

"MaryAnne---"

"Just leave him alone, Rosco. We've been through this before." She sighed. "He'll figure it out."

----

Link to comment
Share on other sites

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

Loading...
 Share

×
×
  • Create New...

Important Information

By using this site, you agree to our Terms of Use and Privacy Policy.