Chapter Text
'First, do no harm.
It's a phrase commonly repeated within the medical field and beyond, a simple promise by doctors and nurses to treat their patients in an ethical and caring manner. After all, what is a doctor if not the one who treats all, regardless of their potential misgivings to the ones they must cure. Funnily enough, however, you won't find that phrase within the Hippocratic Oath. Though there are many similar sounding sentences within it, that very first word isn't said anywhere within the document. Of course, this is just arguing semantics for the sake of semantics. Any doctor worth their salt would know that harming the patient without a clear cause is the last thing anyone should be doing.
After all, the patient must always come first, over everything. No matter what. That is what a doctor must choose to do, otherwise they shouldn't bother calling themselves one. If such a sentiment upsets readers, they may consider closing this book and choosing another profession. For those who continue without such emotions...'
-An Introduction to General Surgery and Practices, Edited for First Year Medical Students, Written by Gabriel Edega.
"...And I must remind you again that Mr. Addison needs to have his surgery planned during the weekend, which will mean we will have to delay that appointment with Mrs. Slewin until next week, perhaps around Wednesday. We certainly can't afford to spend a single moment of our time-tables with patients dilly-dallying, though I'm sure you know that at this point, yes Mark?"
Edega peered over his clipboard, an impossibly thick stack of papers stapled together clipped onto the wood. At one point, his professors had made jokes that Edega could've pursued a career in size-saving technology in being able to cram semesters' worth of notes within a single clipboard, as well as his ability to somehow navigate the sea of terminology on every little piece of every single organ within that stack. Edega didn't think himself that special in his ability, though. It should be the norm, in his opinion, to be absolutely prepared for any and all situations. "Mark? You aren't dozing off there, are you?"
Mark had snapped his head upwards, the pencil on his ear almost falling off and clattering onto the floor. "Ah, n-no, Gabe, I'm paying attention here, ha. Wouldn't try to sleep with you in my vicinity!" He was located in his usual corner of the records room, on the floor. Edega had found it a bit strange that he preferred to creep across the ground rather than use the freed up desk with its own computer, but Mark had claimed that the chairs were absolute torture in comparison to the floor. Not that Edega could object to those remarks; he had never even used the chairs in the rooms either, though he also wasn't doing anything that required sitting down in any capacity.
"Right... Anyway, I should let you know that of all the potential hires I've scoured, only 5 have managed to pass the initial screening." Edega noted offhandedly.
"What!?" Mark jumped upwards, his white coat fluttering at its sides, "But, we're so understaffed. We have more than 2 dozen empty positions in this place, and half our specialist board is gone! There's no way 5 doctors can fill those slots," He yelled, pacing back and forth, "Oh god, and I heard that Dr. P is threatening to quit too, since she's been overloaded with the patients physiotherapy ward, and there's no way either of us have time to-"
"Mark," Edega interrupted, placing his free hand on Mark's shoulders. The motion appeared to calm the other's movements, though its effects on Mark's breathing were minimal. "This is simply the role that we doctors must hold. The patients expect the most of us, and there is no reason for them not to. If another person can not bear to handle the burden, then they are invited to leave this hospital and go look for work elsewhere. But, I believe in us. I wouldn't believe you would've followed me if you couldn't handle it, right?" He raised his eyebrow just slightly, barely visible to the man in front of him, but the reaction was instant.
"N-no, I can handle it, Gabriel," Mark answered quickly, shaking his head, "Just... just need to take a break, somewhere in here. Just for a moment. Could you give me a bit of privacy?" He uttered in a meek tone.
The Head Surgeon grumbled, scouring through the extensive number of appointments lined up. "You can not be serious right now. You have three patients to meet at this moment, followed by another 2 in an hour. There's no way you expect me to give you leniency just because-"
"Please, just this once?" At that moment, Edega noticed just how exhausted Mark sounded. That was odd; both of them had been dealing with similar workloads for weeks now, and though Edega had slowed down at a certain period, he recovered quickly and continued his advancements in healthcare. Had something changed with Mark recently?
He sighed, writing down a few notes to himself for later. "Fine, but don't make this a habit in the future. We have plenty of work to do, and I don't wish to hear any more excuses from you, alright?"
Mark only nodded in response, taking out his purple blanket and collapsing onto the couch. Edega only shook his head, returning to the numerous research plans he had in store. Especially with all the concurrent resignations happening, attempting to reach that potential 'Miracle Cure' was absolutely necessary; even he knew that hardened determination and grit could only take a dream so far.
In all honesty, he never got the complaints he received from every single doctor that had quit on his expectations for them. Many had considered him an unnecessarily cruel person, ready to discard those around him in order to satisfy his fragile ego. Yet, Edega never did consider himself above others simply because his name was Edega. In fact, he considered himself the 'average' for what a 'doctor' is; someone willing to do whatever it took to improve the lives of the residents inside this building. They signed up for this grueling job, and it was a bit ridiculous that many couldn't handle an honestly meager load and resigned the moment things became difficult.
At least the Janitor hadn't quit yet. Edega (privately) praised him for his work ethic, and really, things would've gotten a lot worse had the Janitor also left.
But those were all distractions. Right now Edega was devising a way to revolutionize healthcare, a plan he had been drafting since he had entered medical school. Admittedly, it was a far-fetched idea, especially without some type of coding genius at their disposal. Fortunately, one of the potential hires that Edge had been eyeing did have a minor in computer science, someone named Dr. Ian? Given that all three of them, Mark included, were specialists in cardiology, it would make sense for whatever project Edega had in mind to be based on the heart first. With the increasing number of patients entering Middlesea with some type of direct heart condition, or at least a trigger that results in irregular heart health, getting Ian through the screening as fast as possible was imperative. The longer they sat around doing nothing, the more patients that were at risk of death.
(There was once a patient here, Mark told him, that would not stop breathing heavily in her room. It wasn't the typical harsh heaving that doctors who had their hearts hardened and twisted with apathy grew to learn. It would've been more apt to compare it to 'a widow attempting to bawl out their eyes and scream their grievances to the world but having no energy to even think about doing such a thing, their lungs practically shooting out only the air that attempted to enter'. At least, that's how his best friend described. She died a few days later, before Edega had time to even meet her. All he saw was a colleague from below, wheeling her down to the morgue.
It was hard to describe how it felt, not feeling that much sadness at the death itself. Maybe it was cruel of him to not cry even a bit, but there was never a time for a doctor to break down in anguish. There was only moving forward. There was only keeping up with the times.)
Edega quickly shook his head, clearing his mind of the strange memory, more comparable to having a sudden thought about what you ate during breakfast than anything seriously traumatizing. His fingers still awaiting an impulse to start typing words, he looked beyond his computer at the prone figure of Mark, any fragment of his friend barely visible behind the purple blanket covering him. If he peered any closer, Edega could spot one of those 'fancy-schmancy' books that Mark would give to the Janitor and him, the bolded Frankenstein labelled flatly on top of a picture of what was the silhouette of Dr. Frankenstein himself. Or was it the Monster on that cover? It was hard to tell; there was just an outline of a person, any kind of being could take on what could appear to be a normal, alive human at first glance.
In any case, it was nice to see his best friend sleeping peacefully, even if it was irritating to no end that someone could be receiving treatment had Mark not decided to fall asleep. It was odd how Mark's ability to meet his expectations lit up certain parts of his brain. It's not like what Edega desired was a truly exceptional thing, he would set the same expectations for every colleague he had. If they could keep up, good, they could manage the minimum of what the world needs. If they couldn't, it would only bring about exasperated annoyance that a trained professional didn't manage to stay afloat. Yet, when Mark managed to follow him up the chain of command at Middlesea... he felt sincerely proud of his friend's accomplishments.
Edega had tried to examine his emotions surrounding Mark logically, as any doctor should do; the correct treatment plans could be threatened if he let himself be rocked with hefty sentiment. Was it simply the fact that the two of them had known each other since they entered medical school? That didn't seem correct, he's had many other acquaintances that also worked with him at Middlesea, yet those people weren't even close to creating anything resembling friendship. Perhaps there was something in Mark's attitude, then? But, Edega personally thought that Mark spent far too much time conversing with patients on topics unrelated to healthcare that could be spent helping others, so that option was out of the question. And he had already gone through the issue of expectations and excuses numerous times now, so that was thrown out as well.
Whatever the cause, the consequences were clear: Edega... adored his friend, he supposed. The Head Surgeon had managed to keep his head clear and not let it cloud his ability to get Mark to do his work, at least, but there was a small, hidden piece in his mind that worried. Worry that the arrhythmic beating in his heart whenever Mark just walked with him would result in him becoming lenient, laid-back, indulgent, any other synonym that could be easily defined as 'a patient is going to die and it's going to be on you and your friend's hands'.
Yeah, it was that kind of worry that made him hesitate to approach Mark, clipboard still covering his face at all times. The same worry that made him become uncharacteristically uncertain as he reached his left hand towards Mark's shoulder. The same worry that pushed him to keep reading the notes on every single patient they still needed to attend to. The same worry that barged into the front of his mind, ignoring how uneven Mark's breath had become in order to wake him up. The same worry that said to Edega that it didn't really matter that Mark jumped up in surprise, or how tired his eyes were.
"Wake up. It's been 15 minutes." Edega told him blankly, "You've had plenty of time to rest, now get going. I don't suppose you were dreaming about spending even more time in this room, not even to investigate someone's health records?"
There was a half-second pause, as Mark let out a half-hearted cough in response. "Yeah, I know Gabe... I know. I'll get a move on. You know I can handle this, ha." With that, Mark discarded his blanket on the couch, straightened out his uniform, and walked towards the door. There was a blank expression on his face, as though he had awakened from terrifying thoughts, something like doubt.
For some reason, Edega was feeling a bit displeased with the outcome, and blamed both Mark and himself for that.
There wasn't any moment to linger on those thoughts, however. He had research to do, and a surgery to plan in an hour and 15 minutes, and then do the interview with the first potential candidate, and then-
'It might be tempting to go back and look for those lost souls, but that brings us to one of the biggest tenets of mountain climbing. DON'T BE A HERO AND DON'T LOOK BACK.
It's such a simple philosophy, yet our primal, cooperative instincts threaten to betray that fact. In all likelihood, the average person won't be able to find any person who has wandered off, especially if they have little experience with climbing snowy, wind prone mountains such as these. It may feel shameful, but the truth is that it is that the net outcome will be better if you abandon them, even if they are someone close to you.
If someone you know has become lost on your trek, perhaps due to a sudden storm or a simple error, there is only one thing you can: Straighten up your posture, gather your hands neatly, and pray to whatever deity you believe in that your loved one will find their way back and continue onward towards the peak. In the worst case, their corpse will become a stepping stone, or a warning stone in other cases, for future travelers.'
-A Guide to Traversing The Highest Peaks, Vol I, Written by Poppy Cederholm.
Something was deeply wrong, now.
Breath IN.
What was he doing on the floor now, clutching at his chest?
Breath OUT.
Oh right, he had been scanning over his notes for the day. If he could actually open them properly, he would be able to see it thrown a few feet in front of him. It's still on the same page he was just reading.
Breath IN.
If there was a single, coherent thought in his mind right now, it would be focused entirely on the excruciating pain in the upper area of his torso, right near where that red organ resided, as it should.
Breath OUT.
If another coherent thought burrowed into his head, it would be that no one else should dare face something similar to what was happening.
Breathe IN.
And if he let that thought simmer for just a single second, he would be thinking that he wouldn't wish Mark to have to face this pain.
Breath IN-
Crack.
YOUMESSEDITUPYOUMESSEDITUPYOUMESSEDITUPYOUMESSEDITUPYOUMESSEDITUPYOUMESSEDITUPYOUMESSEDITUPYOUMESSEDITUPYOUMESSEDITUP
What was once labored breathing quickly became labored coughing as his lungs attempted to expel the blockade that was the lack of air. All thoughts inside his mind were subsumed by the growing sound of his heartbeat. Much too irregular, much too quick. Pushing his eyes open to have even the chance to stand up was virtually impossible if Edega wanted the chance to stay conscious. Every other time wasn't nearly as bad as this episode. Normally, he would feel a slight hurt in his heart, followed by an increase in bpm and breathing, and then it would be over just like that. Perhaps pure willpower could only delay it so much.
Edega managed to get his palm on the floor, a single step into doing something that wouldn't be pushing himself into a fetal position. It was irrational to be deterred because of simple pain, especially when there was more work to be done. Crawling forwards, he eventually collapsed near a stack of newly delivered boxes containing some type of pain-killers. In his current state, had he held any type of faith, he would've prayed that they were liquid containers with needles and not stacks of pills that would take much too long for his current state. Unfortunately, all Edega could do was just make a gamble, without something else looking out for him. It was better that way for him, anyway; he'd feel a bit indignant if he assigned his success to another's work.
Practically tearing the tape from the top of the box, he reached in from below, shamelessly groping for anything to grasp onto. His hand touched something smooth, a good sign. He weakly pulled the container out, and it was a painkiller, though he couldn't recognize the brand, a better sign. There also happened to be a syringe generously attached to the side, ready to be pricked into a person's veins, the greatest sign. With all the strength he could muster, Edega powered through the pain and, still bothering to check the proper dosage, injected the painkiller into his body. The moment he did so, he fell back to the ground, the container shattering immediately as his hand forced it down faster than gravity could. As the pain in his heart dulled and his breathing returned to him, his Edega could now sense that instead of bleeding from his heart, figuratively and literally, there were small pieces of glass embedded in his hand.
But, that wasn't important. None of this was, really. All that mattered was getting back on his feet, straightening his clothing, and making sure everything around him was set back to a clean, orderly state. Patients don't want doctors that are slobs, even if it won't personally affect them. What people did in their private areas, no matter how much we try to prevent it, will always seep into their public lives. That's why the first thing he did, rather than do anything in regards to the glass in his hand, was instead focused on cleaning the glass on the ground and picking up his clipboard. The discomfort he felt was something he could ignore easily; Edega had already learned to do so for many years.
There was a knock on the door, weak and hesitant. Edega knew who it was immediately, and hurried in a way that no one would notice to open it. Putting his injured hand behind his back, he opened the door to find Mark standing in front of him, looking... well, not really looking like much. Edega wasn't really sure how much time had passed, but it couldn't have been more than an hour or two. He knew, realistically, that the man he was looking at was still the same man he was infatuated with good friends with. Yet, now, Mark's eyes appeared to have lost almost all the color in them, only a small fragment telling people that the doctor hadn't quite dropped dead yet. "I... uh, heard a sound, a scream. Did... did something happen here?"
'You should tell him.'
'But if I did... then something worse will come...'
"It's nothing to get yourself all worked up over. Just a simple accident that really shouldn't be diverting your attention," Edega spoke with a clipped tone, flipping through pages on his clipboard, "As a matter of fact, you have another patient who needs to have their daily check-up, Mr. Loniel, and I believe you are a few minutes away from missing it. So, why don't you-"
"No, Gabe, I can't do this anymore. I really can't." Mark's usual bravado was gone, replaced by only apathetic words. He wasn't carrying any book with him either, another oddity, another thing that Edega had forced himself not to worry about. "I've... I've been thinking about things. You, me, this hospital, the patients, everything around me. Well, I try to think about them. All I can really think about is how exhausted I am every single day I'm here. And the fact that you're the cause of it."
Edega stilled, his fingers minutely gripping tighter around wood, "What are you-"
"Stop. Don't... don't interrupt. Not right now," He stammered out, a light cough hidden behind a fist. "Did you care about any of the staff that left? I looked through their resignation letters. There was a common thread to them all: you. Viciously uncaring, discarded once they had no meaning to you. I... will... will you do the same to me too?"
"What? Mark." Edega took a step forward. Mark took a step back. "You wouldn't give up like the rest of them, and... I have to give you credit for that. You meet my expectations, and you don't tell me you can't do it. People die every second we aren't working, and it's simply that those doctors were too cowardly to admit that to themselves when they quit. I've become sick of their excuses, so repeated, and it's a bit infuriating, honestly. What happened to their passion when they pushed through medical school?" Edega noticed himself rambling, and stopped, a slight breath. "I'm sorry, I let myself rant a bit there. Mark, you... Mark?"
"Excuses, huh? You really don't get it, do you? Are you just blind to all the crap you've put me through," Mark said, something furious emanating beneath his voice. "No, you're too smart for all that. You have to know about it, that this isn't just because they didn't meet your standards, or whatever justification you tell me. It's all to satisfy whatever you think inside that head of yours, right? No, I can't do it anymore. I don't want to deal with you anymore, Gabriel. I don't want to help you get through this like you helped-no, that wasn't help, it was like help. I can't help you in any way, and... I don't want to help anyone else, anymore. Not even myself. I'm done with this life here." He turned around, his medical ID thrown on the ground. "Find me later, if you want to. If anything I've come to know about you isn't a lie.
Edega stared behind his clipboard. He wished he could join Mark down through that door. Maybe if he held even a single piece of sincere willpower, he could abandon the sadness that trapped him in this hospital. Walk a little further beyond the idea of the great ideal.
"Hm, I guess I really didn't matter to you, did I?"
Unfortunately, change... can't occur on such short notice. A belief can not change unless it is rattled to its core, in which it either mutates into something awful or hardens into a true dream. Neither would occur in this case
It could still make sense, in a way, for Edega. For him to bury his love deep into his soul. He was a doctor, and a doctor wouldn't say anything immature to anyone, else it could compromise their objectivity. If anyone would tell him they were a doctor, he would hold the expectations towards them tge ones he held for himself. Edega would push away those who simply didn't have what it takes, yet it wouldn't be out of pure malice. It would just be the truth, and those who left should go somewhere else that didn't require endless sacrifice and passion. There wasn't a piece of sentiment in those thoughts, just what Edega told himself for comfort. If Mark didn't wish to carry that pain, then Edega wouldn't force him. One day, maybe they could find each other again. See the scenery of a world where death by illness wouldn't threaten people from the top of a peak, a flag of their achievements piercing through the rock. But Edega knew, in a way, that world couldn't exist. Not if he wanted to advance science, create his Miracle. He didn't have the determination to hold a dream where he could hold someone else's hand, but he could have the determination for another person to do such a thing.
Mark may have abandoned Edega, but he wouldn't put that against him. You wouldn't look back for a corpse buried deep in the snow, would you? That would be ridiculous, and... no. It could only be that.
All he could do to show a fragment of the humanity that every person holds was to turn away, his clipboard behind him; To look away at his notes for a single moment as he heard Mark enter the elevator.
There wasn’t a grand argument, violent words that couldn’t be taken back, intense suffering for all parties involved. The truth was worse, actually. It was a quiet acceptance, and they both gave up in trying to fix it.
Edega wouldn't cry, for he wasn't the type of person to cry. His Sorrow was buried deep down in his mind, and his doubts were shattered into pieces, expelled out of his mouth in a mournful, quiet wailing.
'Did you know? People say that Pride is the most deadly of all Sins, that every single other Sin was a result of listening to one's hubris rather than any other thought or perspective that could be had. In a way, it could make sense for them all. Envy, Wrath, Sloth, Greed, Gluttony, Lust. In order to commit one of those heinous wrongdoings, there must be a thought that something must be obtained from it.
But, that's a bit of an oversimplification, don't you think? Pride is just a consequence of something deeper, something more... basic. In fact, our quick instinct to name these 'Sins' perhaps stems from attempting to easily categorize what we could do wrong in life. But there surely has to be a way to manage a Sin correctly instead of just discarding it. They're our desires, after all, and it would perhaps be even more disgraceful to shatter them unceremoniously. In the case of Pride, I would argue that Sin is the result of desires built from love. Love for what? For ourselves, for the things we care about and can't stop but tether to ourselves. Really, the Sin as we know it in its common form manifests only when the object of our love is far too separated from the reality that things must change.
Yet, this can not be the source of everything. Not every Sin has a focus of love, especially when something like Envy builds itself from intentional suffocation of passion in the pursuit to continue its longing. So, what could be more volatile than Pride? Well, I would say that...'
-??? (The scrap you found ends here. Perhaps there is something else to find?)