AN: This site doesn't quite allow for the same convenient tagging as AO3, so I do want to note that this story will contain depression, suicidal themes, abuse, an underage relationship, and character death.
Milla Maxwell. Twenty-two years of age. Her record listed an unfortunate number of visits—beginning from the time she was three, but with immune system complications noted to have begun even before then. This young woman was well known, having been an inpatient for more of her life than not. Of course, a better word would probably be "infamous", in this case; it wasn't much of a secret what this place was for:
For those who spent more time in the hospital than at their own homes. For those who depended on them to live every day of their lives. For those who couldn't be fixed.
It disgusted the young doctor more than he could express, that these people (a part of a "special program", they called it) were treated so differently-like a burden, a weight on society-when they were already deprived of their lives.
Of course, he also knew deep in his heart that his being placed there was no coincidence.
At ten years old, Jude Mathis was accepted into one of the nation's most renowned universities for his far beyond average intelligence. At fourteen he began medical school, and in three years his remarkable grasp of his field had given him the opportunity to work in the very facility where even some of his professors had been rejected after years of dedicated work. He was, by definition, a prodigy
Some would die, some would live. In theory, coming to terms so easily with mortality was as easy as repeating that basic yet profound mantra each day and night. But, in reality, no number of lectures or wise words could have prepared that young man for the twisted reality that lay before him.
He was aware that it would be a nearly hopeless fight-an uphill struggle against jealous peers, paranoid superiors, patients bereft of hope, and by all means life itself.
But he knew, too, that no matter what, it was his duty to fight for them, no matter how hopeless it seemed. Ultimately a doctor could do no more than his best—this was the fundamental principle of everything he had learned, and he held those words close to his heart.
"Good morning, Miss Maxwell," he greeted, doing his best to be confident. He'd done exactly this on the other side of the hospital already for over a year, but there was something nerve-wracking about this being his first real day on his real job. It was definitely a relief to not be shadowed by his superiors for once-Director Rideaux, especially, had a way of making him nervous even about the most basic operations-at the very least. She stared at him for a few moments, blankly like she hadn't heard him speak. 'A seizure', was his first thought, his anxious mind getting the better of him. "Miss Maxwell…?" he finally ventured again, fortunately this time seeming to get her attention.
"Sorry, good morning." The blonde-haired woman smiled apologetically, looking a bit embarrassed. "I don't recognize you, are you new?"
"New to this department, anyway," he explained, offering his hand for a handshake. "I'm Doctor Mathis."
"Mathis?" She blinked thoughtfully. "Ah, yes, I have heard of you before. I must say, I am truly impressed by you, if what people say is true."
He wasn't sure how to respond, really; he hadn't ever really thought much about how his situation would look to the patients who weren't involved in the more...political side of things. "I hope I can live up to my reputation, if that's the case. So, how are you feeling? Anything out of the ordinary?" If nothing else, she appeared well enough now, and so long as her tests from last night came back all clear she'd be free to go home that night.
Her tired eyes seemed to light up with amusement at the inquiry. "Out of the ordinary? I think that goes without saying," she laughed-albeit with a hint of moroseness. "Nothing stands out, though."
"Even something small could trigger it," he urged, just to be safe. The woman shook her head. "We'll have the results of your tests later, so I'll be back in a bit, in that case."
"Wonderful." Her expression faded once more, and she barely nodded in response when he bowed his head and bid her a good day. Infamous. It was strange, really, because he would have expected much worse out of a serial patient spoken of with such distaste behind closed doors. She was clearly reserved, with good reason, but not unpleasant. She was probably tired of being pitied, though it was hard for him not to feel that way.
As the day progressed, she lingered in his mind. Something about her... as he made his rounds of the others in the wing-though some might be comparable in terms of ailments and afflictions-none really stood out to him like she did. There was a hollowness in her eyes that resonated with him; she was hardly a few years older than him, but still so broken.
It was going to be a long first week, he was sure, and that was just the beginning.