Fallout
by Ky
Summary: Kalm's hospitals and clinics are hit hardest by the effects of Meteor.
Genre: Drama/General
Rating: PG
Warnings: None.
Disclaimer: I don't own Final Fantasy VII or any of it's characters. I take full responsibility for Dr. Webber, though.
Notes: This idea has been floating around in my head for quite some time, but it wasn't until back in January that I finally sat down to write it. I felt a bit awkward about creating an OC. I tried really hard to give him a name that fit into the Final Fantasy VII universe. Hopefully, I succeeded…
The waiting room of Kalm's public health clinic was filled past its maximum occupancy. All of the health care providers in Midgar, formerly the most advanced in the world, had virtually shut down after Meteorfall. Nearby Kalm had seemed the best place to refer all of the sick and injured who no longer had a place to go.
The nurse standing in the doorway smiled grimly. A year ago, this clinic had not been much more than somewhere to get discount flu shots or anonymous testing. Now, she imagined all of the hospital and doctor's office waiting rooms in Kalm must be in a similar state to this one, spilling over with the sick from Midgar and its environs. All around her were children, their limbs and faces black with the mark of the new, mysterious disease. Some were with parents. Some were not. Everywhere there was pain and crying. The nurse swallowed hard, looking for the next name on her clipboard. "Cloud Strife. Doctor Webber will see you now."
A dark figure moved from his corner of the room to follow her. She almost would not have noticed him except that when he stepped forward, the wall's off-white contrast with his black clothing was revealed. The man had an air of disappearing about him, and it reminded the nurse evermore of the world's dismal state.
&
"I'm Doctor Everett Webber." The young doctor offered his hand to shake. His patient, seated in a chair against the wall of the exam room, glanced at it and then continued staring at the gray carpet.
Everett grimaced. Introduction rejected, he took his own seat and looked at the forms on his clipboard. "And you're Cloud Strife."
The man nodded once. He looked to be in his early twenties, and he was physically fit. He wore black clothing, and his blond hair was spiked with gel. At first glance, he looked healthy, albeit a bit rebellious.
Everett tried to ignore the large sword that was leaning against the wall near Cloud's chair. It wasn't unusual for people to carry weapons, but this one was huge.
Cloud kept glancing around the room. He seemed to be on edge. His eyes focused for a particularly long moment on the orange and white disposal bin for used hypodermics that was attached to the wall. Perhaps he disliked getting shots. It was not an uncommon fear.
Everett unconsciously reached for his glasses. It was a nervous habit of his, to push them up the bridge of his nose. As he adjusted his glasses, Cloud's eyes snapped their focus onto his, and for the first time he saw the full effect of Cloud's blue-green gaze. The eye color was unnatural, over-bright, almost as if the irises were lit from behind.
Since Kalm always took a position of neutrality, the young doctor had little experience with Shinra's military. He knew these were mako eyes, the eyes of a SOLDIER. He thought of the stories he'd heard—inhuman fighting ability, fast recovery, killer instinct—and the sword leaning against the wall began to look decidedly more deadly. He told himself that he was a doctor, a rational person, as his heart rate involuntarily quickened.
He cleared his throat, fiddled with his glasses again. "Mr. Strife, you've been complaining of some pain and some unusual symptoms…"
Cloud rolled up his sleeve and spoke in a voice that was blunt, yet soft. He lacked the city dialect. "Thought it was a bruise. Then it started spreading." His upper arm was covered with mottled, dark patches. Some of them were oozing slightly. "Hurts more than a bruise or a cramp. Different than a stab."
Everett did not like the idea of knowing what it felt like to be stabbed. "Have you experienced any fever or loss of consciousness?"
One short, barely perceptible nod.
"Hallucinations? Perceptions of sensations—hearing, sight, touch, taste, smell—that are not real? Flashbacks?"
There was a pause. Then a slow shake of the head, during which Cloud's eyes never left the middle distance on which they were fixed.
Cloud's entire being seemed tired and heavy. Some of Everett's colleagues carried themselves similarly. There was only so long that they could be strong in the face of an epidemic from which they had been able to save no one. Everett was sure he was weakening, too. But he had to keep trying, keep seeing patients, if only because knowledge gave them peace of mind.
"Were you in close contact with any of the debris from Meteorfall?" Everett asked his final question.
Cloud made a noise of affirmation.
Taking a fortifying breath, the young doctor began his diagnostic speech. The one he'd been giving a lot lately. The one he'd be glad never to give again. "We're calling it Geostigma. The Planet Scar Syndrome. Contact with Meteor fallout is believed to be the cause. It isn't contagious, so there's no fear of spreading it to other people like you would a cold or the flu. Along with the pain and fever, many of the patients I've seen experience profound psychological effects. Hallucinations That's not to say that this will happen to you. The symptoms differ slightly from person to person, depending on your immune system's resistance to the pathogen, I suppose.
"There is no known cure. Persistent Geostigma is known to be fatal in all cases. I'm sorry." He waited for a reaction. A change in Cloud's expression. But there was none. His eyes never left the floor.
"You don't have to go through this alone. Stay close to family and friends. They will help you through it."
Still no reaction.
"We can treat the symptoms to make you more comfortable. Wash your arm, and all other affected areas, with warm soapy water, and then, when dry, cover with clean, dry bandages to prevent the possibility of an additional infection. Make sure you change the bandages frequently. I can show you how to wrap them properly. For the fever, drink plenty of fluids and get bed rest. I can put you on a fever reducer, as well as prescribe you some painkillers. There are some experimental drugs in development, and I can let you know when any of them are approved--"
Cloud stood up suddenly, pushing away Everett's pad of prescription forms with one hand. "You got more important people to save."
He had shouldered the sword and was gone from the room before Everett could protest. The young doctor buried his head in his hands, his shoulders sagging. How much more, he wondered along with everyone in the clinic, could the world fall apart?