My lips burnt as they grazed the scalding coffee, causing me to wince. The morning rays streamed into my office; half-closed binds bounced the light in my face.
Morning already?
With a sharp sigh, I stood and closed the binds for good.
I looked over the document I had spent hours perfecting. A patient of mine had recently woken up—a miracle. Considering they were going to pull the plug on him.
The document detailed everything from the kid's preferences to his family history.
The kid held out, after staying so long in a coma. It's a miracle he woke up again; 2 years is a long time.
It will be different this time.
My eyes drifted to a photograph at the edge of my desk—A child, no older than six stood between me and a clean-shaven man. Years had passed. They looked so happy.
I promise
My finger tapped the desk in a mesmerising rhythm. It helped me think—sort through the events of the day. My hair felt greasy as I played with it, I needed a shower.
I stood abruptly; my world spun for a second. With a sharp sigh, I printed the documents before leaving the room. It was time to check on our miracle child.
The hospital was bustling with activity, the halls packed with people. Some sitting while others stood, every one of them waiting to get checked up by these sleep-deprived 'robots' they called doctors.
Eyes down. No eye contact. Walk with purpose.
These unwritten rules have saved me more times than I could count—as unethical they could be. Ignoring them meant getting overwhelmed by people.
I shook my head, no point dwelling on them. Everyone gets checked in the end. Mostly.
My body moved mindlessly as my mind filtered through the flood of thoughts. Events of the past few weeks.
When they had suggested pulling the chord on the kid, I had been more than less persuasive in convincing them otherwise.
I had acted purely out of emotion, unprofessional. Out of character.
It was only due to Reagan that the boy survived another day, And the reason I could even meet the child when he woke. The stranger who appeared from nowhere. The man gave me chills.
The lingering scent of coffee woke me from my thoughts. I was passing the café.
A small detour wouldn't hurt— I needed the energy.
The smell of coffee only got stronger the closer I got to the café, the casual chatter of the clientele jarred me, throwing me off balance for a second.
The hustle and bustle of the café faded into a soft ringing in my ear as I bumped into someone.
"Sorry" we both muttered. His hazel eyes glowed slightly as he passed by. Disappearing into the crowd. He had a thin hoodie, obscuring his face.
I shook my head slightly, forcing myself to focus. I approached the counter; the line wasn't long. Just a single person.
Not long after the client had received his order, a man with short grey hair, and a bulky physique spotted me.
His usual half-smirk on his face.
Alberto, how the years have treated you.
I would've taken a jab at him if he weren't serving me.
"The usual?" His thick Italian accent was smooth to the ears.
I approached with a tired smile, I nodded, humming a quiet thank you.
He went to work, his movements quick and precise showing an agility that shouldn't be present in an aging man.
Not long after, he called me over, coffee in hand.
"eh Emilia… Troppo tempo, eh?" his tone was rough, but gentle. "You takin' care of yourself or playin' doctor again, eh?"
I nodded; he raised his eyebrow so high it nearly hit the ceiling.
A moment passed. Then he leaned in. His voice dropping.
"Look, Piccola…I know, I know—it's not my place but…" He threw his hands in the air, frustration tangled with care. "You gotta slow down, si? One day, I swear, I'll find you passed out on the floor, and then what? Dio Mio…this job, this guilt—It's gonna eat you alive."
He clutched his chest dramatically, then softened. "You don't gotta carry the whole world on your back, eh? Not even you are that strong."
He stepped back a second, letting his words carry warmth across the air between us.
"Ai, I need to get back to work… Come by sometime, eh? Gets quiet 'round here in the evenings. Food tastes better with company, no?" with a hearty laugh, he returned to work.
Leaving me to contemplate his words.
I get his worry, I understand.
But I can't stop—not when I know I can save this boy. Not when people need me.
I glanced at my coffee, the fuel that got me through the day. Alberto had added extra cream and cinnamon.
Cinnamon always made everything taste better.
With a small smile and complicated heart, I manoeuvred my way around the crowd, accidentally bumping into another person on my way. With a quick apology, I continued my journey.
A flight of stairs and a few corridors later. I reached the door, where the boy was. He was awake.
I reached for the handle but hesitated.
Why am I hesitating? He doesn't know me.
He's not Charley.
I took a deep breath, exhaling as I stood straight. Opening the door.
Light blinded me and all I could hear was the rhythmic beeping of a machine.
It took seconds for my eyes to adapt, the room wasn't big, it wasn't small either. Big enough to fit around 8 people.
Only managed to get this room because of Reagan as well…
The room had a different atmosphere from the chaos of the hospital. It seemed detached from the chaos, unbothered even.
A peace he deserved.
Thinking of that, I glanced at the frail boy. Lying on the hospital bed, next to an open window. Someone had visited and left it open.
I could only shake my head at that, the boy might end up sick if its left open too long.
Closing that window, I was able to get a good look at him.
Trimmed black hair and dull hazel eyes—no one was home, but a small glint gave me hope. Someone was in there; I could feel it.
I placed my documents and the half-drunk coffee on a nearby counter, Its bitter taste energised my tastebuds.
Giving me the energy needed to deal with… well, everything.
I shivered as I took one last sip from the cup, its warmth providing a small refuge against the sterile coldness of the room. The heater wasn't on.
I guess that was one bad thing about being admitted to this room.
Everyone forgot about it, a room so neglected there were practically spider webs in some corners.
With a sigh, I took out a few tools from a nearby cupboard. Normally they wouldn't be stashed in a patient's room, but since this place was barely used, It was mostly a storeroom.
Laying the tools on the counter, I glanced at the boy.
He looked frail, delicate. I was almost afraid to touch him.
"Might as well perform the physical assessment early" I muttered with a sigh, gazing at the blue sky once before focusing once more.
"Hello Kai, can you hear me? My name is Emilia, you've been laying here for a long time. So, I just need to make a few checks," He probably couldn't hear me, although part of me hoped he could.
Right, non-invasive procedures first.
I took a small flashlight, shining it in his pupil—It constricted slowly.
My hands moved efficiently, taking out a pulse Oximeter. Clipping it on his finger.
Now we wait.
I couldn't help but stare at him, his hair seemed to change into a light brown, his eyes turning the same.
Small changes that had my heart panicking. Memories flooded, the smell of burnt food, childish laughter, the beeping of a machine. The same machine that held this boy right now.
I closed my eyes shut; they were wet—He isn't Charley.
A deep breathe—his hair was black, his eyes hazel. Not Charley.
"Sorry Kai" I started, softly, My hand reaching for his. "I promise you; you will be fine: You are a strong boy," a hand caressed his hair. It felt wrong, but oh so right.
My heart skipped a beat when I felt a weak grip coming from the hand I held, I looked down, a smile forced its way on my face, only to stiffen and crumble. Nothing—wishful thinking maybe?
Maybe not?
No. Nothing.
No response came from the boy. Not even a grunt. Verbal response—none.
As much as that saddened me
The results came back.
95/60-110/70mmHg—slightly weak, considering the normal is 120/80mmHg.
I backed off a bit, steadying my own inner turmoil before focusing back on the physical assessment.
Now's not the time to get emotional. Focus.
I analysed his breathing. It was slow, coming out in drawn bursts. A minute passed—13-15 breaths per minute.
Plopping the oximeter on the table, I moved towards the documents. My fingers grazed the paper, its touch weirdly soothing.
"You are doing better," although not by much, I added silently. As I filled out the form.
Glasgow Coma Scale
Patient opens his eyes in response to speech, some level of brain activity detected. GCS Scale 3.
Pupils constrict slowly when exposed to light, suggesting some brain function is still present. GCS Scale 2.
No verbal response when engaged, patient shows no ability to produce sound. GCS Scale 1.
Overall Impression: The patients state is slowly improving, showing states of consciousness. Keep watch for a decline in health.
I looked back up at Kai, letting out a sigh. How will he deal with everything when he wakes up?
The door to the room opened as a man in a white lab coat entered. He nodded at me, raising an eyebrow as he walked in.
"Chase" I acknowledged, Forcing down a yawn that threatened to expose me.
I leaned against the table and handed him the documents without waiting for his response."I've already performed some non-invasive physical examinations. He is improving, albeit slightly."
"Already? Bit early don't you think?" He asked, surprise evident in his voice. His blue eyes assessed the patient, cold yet warm. "You've been on his case ever since he was transferred here. What's that about?"
"I just feel bad for his situation." My response was curt.
Don't even go there chase.
"Hmm, is that so," He clearly didn't believe me. My response was half-baked, I knew it too.
He busied himself with reading the document, occasionally running a hand through his dirty blond hair as he read. Whilst I looked back at Kai, his form was still, peaceful. Like it always had been.
I approached him, the thought of chase being in the room was uncomfortable. I could only deal with his judgement.
"Hey Kai, don't mind Mr. Know-it-all over there. He barely remembers where he keeps his keys half the time" I find myself smiling softly, was I hoping to get a reaction out of him? I'm not sure. "Still, he is part of the best team of doctors in this whole hospital. You'll be up and walking in no time."
I turned back, only to see chase look at me with an amused grin plastered on his face.
"What are you doing?" his voice contained a mix of judgement and amusement. A combination that Irked me.
"Comforting a patient. What's your verdict? oh mighty doctor." I drawled, as I walked up to him.
He scoffed in response, "You know he can't actually hear you, right?" he paused, eyeing Kai. "Don't you think its strange to be partnered up to someone so obsessed over a kid? I mean, why him? I'd almost think he was your son if I didn't know any bet—"
He cut himself off when he caught my glare. His smug smile faltered. Good. A fire was brewing in my chest, and I was dying to let it out.
It was just irritating how people talked about Kai as if he were a side project—something to poke at and study.
Even more when those comments were from a friend.
"Uh-hum, well." Chase stumbled, his fist covering his mouth in an attempt to hide his discomfort.
"The patient finally awakens, Good morning sleeping beauty~ Two years? Wow that's rough." He droned, tapping his pen on the document as he searched for his next words.
I could see his eyes scrunch with concentration.
His face had morphed slightly, his brows furrowed and the smirk no longer present. He understood the severity of the boy's situation. He was serious now. Good.
"This won't be easy; we'll need to make sure he's stabilised. At the state he is in, if he declines further there might be no going back." He stopped for a moment, looking me in the eye.
"We have exactly one chance at saving his life if things go wrong."
One chance—One decision that determines if he lives or dies.
If that was even something we could determine.
I could only hope.