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Edward Masen was in bad shape. He was a patient that had shown up a few days ago, but Carlisle hadn't dealt with him. He was another doctor's patient, but that doctor was currently taking a few hours of sleep and the patient was passed off to Carlisle. From the looks of the chart, Carlisle estimated that he had the weekend, maybe Monday if he was strong enough.
He really wasn't looking forward to letting another family that they were about to lose someone. He didn't know if he could take much more of this.
He walked the white hallway to where the families were sitting, three dozen faces all turned, sad and deep wrinkled with worry turned to him, wishing that he was there for them and praying he had good news. He hated the waiting area for this reason.
"Masen?" he called. Almost three dozen heads fell, and a large sigh filled the room. Everyone prayed for the best, prepared for the worst. Two heads however, stayed on him. A woman, early – maybe mid thirties and a young man both with bronze hair. Their faces nearly killed him. "Can I speak with you?"
They stood, gathering themselves; it looked as though the boy was carrying his mother.
"It's this epidemic, isn't it?" the mother asked as she reached him, invading his personal space. "Everyone knows it, I mean, look at Europe. It's this damned war. Brought it here."
"Mother…" The boy pleaded. Obviously, this wasn't the first time she had tiraded on like this. Carlisle was thankful for the boy's insight; he didn't know how to respond to the woman. He nodded to the boy, who smiled and nodded back. His eyes were green and Carlisle was pulled back to the street where he just recently had a small panic attack. It took a beat for him to settle himself.
"Your husband appears to have caught the same virus that is … rumored to be an epidemic," he took a deep breath, and then regretted it. He tasted all of these people's tears in the air and was distracted. "Um… he's in one of the last stages of the … virus. I regret to inform you that he probably doesn't have much time left."
As the words left his mouth, the woman crumbled, the boy didn't seem to falter as he caught his mother. "Can we see him?" he asked.
At this Carlisle was unsure of how to respond. On one hand, he hated denying people of their last few moments with their loved ones; on the other hand, they were still unsure as to how the disease was spread. Seeing the woman fall apart, and adding that to his break down earlier, "of course. This way."
He led them into the room where there were at least two dozen patients with the same problem were being held, and went to tend to other patients. When he came back, the boy was sitting against the wall outside the door. Head in his hands.
Carlisle slid down the wall next to him, "sorry I gave you such bad news."
The boy didn't say anything.
"Do you have any brothers or sisters?"
He shook his head. Silently, Carlisle was relieved. "I know what you are thinking," the boy said suddenly. He looked up to the older man, looking much older than the sixteen or seventeen he had to be. " 'Thank goodness.' "
"Something like that," Carlisle confirmed. The boy returned his head to his hands.
Carlisle didn't know why he was sitting here; next to a boy that needed comfort that he didn't know how to give. He was about to get up when he spoke again.
"Have you seen it in my mother, yet?"
"What?"
"The sickness. I've seen it before, the maid in our house died from it earlier this week. And now my father…" he trailed. Sitting up straight, he took in a deep breath to steady himself. Carlisle was suddenly jealous. "She's been holding her head like when she has a headache. And she's been really cold and it's only early summer. This morning when we first brought dad, she was sweating. She hasn't said anything though, but it's not for my benefit or anything. She thinks that by ignoring it, she won't catch it." He looked the doctor in the eye.
Carlisle waited for him to continue, it felt like he wasn't done.
"My father is lying in there dying," he swallowed, and his hands shook. "My mother is standing in there, and she's dying. She's not going to want to, but you need to help her, please?"
For a moment, Carlisle thought he was looking in a mirror. The fear, the loneliness, the despair was all there, in this young man's face.
"What's your name?"
"Edward." He laughed, "after my father." And then he took a shaky breath and he started to cry.
"Edward, I'll do what I can. I understand what kind of fear you are going through. What you must feel at the moment."
"Thank you," he looked at him for a moment with wet eyes, "have you lost someone to all of this?"
Carlisle nodded, his face serious, "too many."
Edward was still. The vampire was worried he had said the wrong thing.
"You're a good doctor. You may not think that because of what's happened, but you are." He wiped at his nose, "you're very compassionate."
"You are very perceptive."
"So I've been told."
Standing up, Carlisle said one last thing to Edward, "That's a true gift; one I hope you never lose."
Edward grinned through his fear, and Carlisle had his sights back on work.
By three that afternoon, Carlisle had convinced Mrs. Masen to be checked. By seven o'clock, Mr. and Mrs. Masen were laying next to each other. By seven-thirty, Edward had come to terms with the fact that the waiting room would become his home for the next few days.
It was ten o'clock that evening when Carlisle lost another patient, barging out into the hallway kicking a hole into the wall. She was only twenty six, the same age as he would be if he were living. She had a small child, and everything to live for.
It wasn't fair.
All the people he had lost today, all the lives that he had so desperately fought for, they were all young. Men and women in their twenties. Newlyweds, new mothers, fathers. Not for the first time in the last week did our frustrated doctor wish he could cry.
He would live forever. Exist alongside eternity, outside of death. He was stuck in a constant present. Never to grow, never to die, never to be a father, and never to live. These people, these innocent lives, they could.
And he couldn't do anything for them.
It wasn't fair.
The loneliness was creeping back to surround him, making him feel colder than he had in centuries.
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