The start of his second week hadn't gone great. During the evening of his ninth day on the ward one of the patients had sadly passed away. It wasn't the first time that he'd experienced the screeching cries of a mother that had lost a child, but it didn't make it any easier. He'd dragged himself away, letting the nurse comfort the family of the young boy.
The boy hadn't been much older than his own brother, fifteen years old. Much too young to die. He stepped into the staff room and ran his fingers through his hair, tugging lightly as he closed his eyes. After a few moments of relaxing in the silence of the room he opened the locker and pulled out his phone. He already had three texts from his roommate, each one of them made him smile faintly.
Are you coming to the meeting tonight? You are, right?
I need you to look over this draft for me as soon as you get in. I've left a copy of it on the table.
I ran out of paper, I had to use a pizza box. Don't throw it away!
He'd met Enjolras in high school, it turned out that their parents were all once good friends. They'd met years ago but had sadly fallen out of contact but once the two boys became friends, their parents began talking again and meeting quite regularly. In return, Combeferre and Enjolras' teenage years consisted of lots of family outings together, meals and sleep overs.
After responding to the three texts, informing him that yes, he would be at the meeting and of course he would look at the draft, he always did and under no circumstances would he throw away anything that had writing on it, he put his phone away and left the staff room.
In the corridor he could still hear the wails of the Mother, she hadn't found any comfort in the kind nurses words. Combeferre would only get in the way if he went back there, it'd take a lot not to join her in her tears for the lost boy.
He glanced down the various little rooms that split off from the corridor, luckily most of the patients didn't seem to be paying attention to the sound. They were probably all used to it by now, that boy hadn't been the first to die here and he certainly wouldn't be the last. Most of them were talking, joking with each other whilst two girls sat in the corner, sharing headphones as they babbled over boy bands. There was one empty bed, however.
He glanced around, noticing the wheelchair that was gone from the corner. Curiously, he began to walk, still checking in on each of his patients as he passed. He hesitated as he heard the squeak of wheels as he reached the small room that resembled some kind of living room. It was set up with a television in the corner and sofas spread around the room. During the day, the patients that were able to walk about often came in here and during visiting hours as well. He didn't move from the door as he watched her.
Eponine sat at the window, her face barely inches from the glass as she watched the rain fall outside. The cries of the mother were barely audible here, it was mostly silent apart from the patter of rain against the glass. Outside it was dark, various lights lit up the car park and the floors below them. This ward was on the top of the building and the view spread out across most of Paris.
He hesitantly stepped inside, not bothering to turn on the light. She seemed fairly content in the dark. "Eponine?" He called gently, not wanting to startle her as he stayed stood behind her.
"The kids dead," she stated, her voice even as she continued to stare outside.
He cleared his throat as he slowly nodded his head. "He passed away about an hour ago," he told her, tilting his head to the side. He'd never seen her speak to any of the other patients and it surprised him that she paid attention to what went on around them.
"That's going to be me one day," she told him, her voice dark as she slowly looked up at him.
He wasn't sure what he was supposed to say to that and his silence seemed to amuse her as she smirked. "Are you scared of dying?" He asked her after a few moments.
"What is there to be scared of? Being scared won't make it go away, it won't stop it," Eponine reasoned as she ran her fingers over the cold glass. "Maybe that reincarnation thingie will happen. I could be a bird."
"You want to be able to fly?" He asked her curiously.
She laughed as she shook her head. "No, I want to be able to go away."
Combeferre stepped inside the Musain and out of the rain, his hair stuck to his face as he slid into his seat at the table where the blonde man stood, his passionate words hanging in the air as he continued his speech about the oppressed. He was only about ten minutes late but Enjolras had left him a note stuck to the fridge telling him to take his time.
The day had been particularly hard, after the boys mother had left four hours after saying goodbye to her son, two new patients had been admitted to the ward. Working on the cancer ward was harder than he had expected it to be, he felt completely drained and he'd barely been there for over a week.
Joly slid into the seat beside him, moving from his place beside Bossuet and handed the medical student a beer. Combeferre smiled faintly before shaking his head, tapping the pager that was attached to his belt. Joly nodded his head in understanding as he took the drink for himself and took a sip. "So how are you coping?" He asked quietly, not wanting to interrupt their leader and be on the receiving end of one of his glares.
"It's… hard," Combeferre nodded his head slowly. "Harder than I expected, harder than any of the other wards I've been on. We lost a patient today."
Joly squeezed his friends arm gently. "You know, if you aren't coping, I'm sure they would understand and allow you to transfer to another ward."
"No," Combeferre frowned. "No, I do enjoy it... well, perhaps enjoy isn't the right word… but it's still hard. I wish I could cure them. They're all so young… they have so much life ahead of them…"
"We wish we could cure all of our patients Combeferre, but it's just not possible…" Joly sighed before patting his arm and returning to his previous seat.
Combeferre spent a majority of the night listening to his friends speak with passion about the oppression of their people but for once, Combeferre had nothing to say. He'd spent so much time at the hospital that his mind hadn't had chance to concentrate on whatever topic Enjolras had picked. He'd read over the draft that Enjolras had left for him, all twenty pages but none of it had gone in. Luckily, tomorrow he had a day off which meant he could spend time looking over the mass of words that were wrote out in Enjolras' spindly handwriting.
By midnight he was lounged across the sofa, his eyes closed as he allowed the poet to play with his hair and run his fingers over his scalp, gently massaging him. He yawned as he tried to force his eyes open again, feeling the hands move down to his shoulders and rub at the knots there.
"I'm about to head home," Enjolras informed him as he stood in front of the sofa, his laptop clutched tightly against his chest. "Are you coming?"
Reluctantly Combeferre pulled away from Jehan, thanking him for his skilled hands before he trailed after Enjolras and towards the door. They called their goodbyes before stepping out into the night, luckily the rain had decided to stop and the breeze was pleasantly warm as they walked.
"I'll look over that draft first thing," Combeferre promised him as he walked, giving him a lopsided smile.
Enjolras frowned as he glanced him over, pulling the keys from his pocket. "You should sleep in, you look exhausted. The speech can wait-"
"It's fine," Combeferre waved off his friends worries. "I can't sleep when it's light anyway."
Enjolras nodded his head briefly as he unlocked the door and stepped inside. "I'm going to write up some more speeches, you should really head to bed."
"That's probably a wise idea," Combeferre agreed as he trudged towards his room. "Let me know if you need me to look at anything."
"Go to sleep, Ferre," He scolded him as he sat down at the desk, watching his friend disappear behind his bedroom door.
It was roughly an hour later when he heard the door swing open and a frantic Combeferre dash across the room, yanking his jumper over his head as he went. "Emergency at the hospital," he called to Enjolras as he went, dashing out onto the street.
Within ten minutes he was at the hospital, he didn't bother to wait for the lift as he dashed up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He was thankful for Joly insisting they all join a gym and stay fit over the summer, it was paying off. He reached the twelfth floor with still some breath as he hurried down the corridor, urgently looking around for which of the patients he was here for.
One of the nurses looked up as he saw him, quickly motioning for him to follow. "Room c," she informed him hurriedly. "Eponine Thenardier."
"What happened," he demanded as he took the notes from her and thumbed through them. By now he knew most of his patient's history but Eponine seemed to be one of the only ones that he hadn't made himself familiar with. Most of the time she seemed quite healthy.
He paused as he glanced up as he reached the room, his heart beating a little faster. He'd become quite fond of Eponine over the past week, most of the time she was high spirited but tonight, she looked sick, nothing like the girl he'd spoken to earlier.
He pulled his eyes away from the girl that now looked tiny underneath the blankets that covered her body. The other patients had been moved out of the room to give her more room and privacy. He glanced over her notes, trying to take in the fact.
Diagnosed three years ago. Four recurrences of tumours. Mitoses and cytoplasms. No longer responding to chemotherapy. Little improvement over the past few months, health steadily deteriorating. Tumours spread into spinal column. Diagnosis, Medullolastoma.
"How has her condition been?" He asked quietly as he stopped beside her bed, glancing at the nurse.
"She was complaining of a headache, we gave her paracetamol to treat the symptoms. About an hour ago she began vomiting and had been struggling to grip with her hands."
He frowned as he nodded his head before gently placing his hand on Eponines shoulder and shaking her. She blinked a couple of times before groaning, rolling her head to the side as she tried to close her eyes. "Eponine," he said gently as he removed his hand. "I need you to stay awake for a few minutes."
She reluctantly opened her eyes as she glanced up at him. "I thought you went home," she smiled faintly.
"This is a very drastic way to get to see me again," he joked lightly before thumbing through her notes again. "You were admitted because you need to go to surgery. I think we need to speed that up and get you down there tonight, I need to send you for an MRI scan first."
She yawned as she rubbed her eyes, leaning her head back on the pillow. "What did I ever do to you?" She asked him. "Do you cut up all the people you don't like?"
"I'm doing this to help you," he told her with a small smile. "Once you've had the operation you will have to stay under observation and have a few tests run, after that you can return home."
"I prefer it here though," she told him, forcing a small smile as she closed her eyes.
Combeferre fidgeted as he laid across the sofa in the staffroom. Once he'd received the results from Eponines MRI scan which warranted her going straight for surgery, the nurse had informed him that he could go home but he'd refused. He wanted to wait and make sure that she made it through the surgery without a hitch. There was a doctor due to come on duty before she was out but he didn't care.
He managed to get roughly a few hours sleep before a gentle knock on the door woke him. He sat up quickly, looking at the blurry nurse at the door as he felt around for his glasses. Once he found them he stood up, following the younger man down the corridor and to where Eponine laid. They'd moved her into a private room for the time being. Thick bandage was wrapped around her head and an oxygen mask had been placed over her mouth and nose, other than than the usual tubes and wires were connected to her.
He glanced at the surgeon that stood beside her bed, fiddling with the last of the wires before glancing up. "The procedure went well, we were able to remove the tumour from her Cerebellum. The MRI scan showed no tumours in the tentorium," the man informed him with a smile.
"It has spread into her spine though," Combeferre pointed out grimly. "It's in her bones now."
"Unfortunatly. Within time it may also spread into other parts of her body," The surgeon added as he glanced down at Eponine.
Pelvis, arms, legs, lymph nodes, peritoneum, liver, lungs… Combeferre listed silently as his eyes wandered over Eponines body with each body part, pausing as he thought about the various complications. He'd studied this in detail not long ago, not for any kind of test but more out of interest. He'd familiarised himself with most kinds of cancers.
"You can't stay here all night for one patient, you should go home and rest," the surgeon interrupted his thoughts.
"I'll sleep in the staffroom, I want to make sure she is okay."
The man frowned. "There are other doctors here."
"I still want to stay," he insisted before continuing. "I would do it for any patient."
Once he was settled in the staffroom he pulled out his phone, a quick text to Enjolras informed him not to expect him home until later and that he would be sleeping at the hospital for a bit before he looked down at the contact details in his lap. The nurses had told him that they had contacted her parents before but they never showed up, they'd requested not to be contacted unless it was an emergency and Eponine had agreed. To him, this was an emergency.
He tapped the number into his phone before hitting dial. He listened to it ring a few times before it was finally answered. "What d'you want? D'you know what bloody time it is?" Someone snapped on the other end.
He was taken aback as he cleared his throat, gathering his thoughts as he spoke. "Hello, Monsieur Thenardier? I'm a doctor at the hospital. I'm treating your daughter, Eponine Thenardier. We had to rush her into surgery-"
"Is she dead?" The voice interrupted him gruffly.
"I- No, no Monsieur. I reassure you that she's recovering well at the moment. I just wanted to inform you that-"
"Well you go tell 'er to 'urry up and die," the voice barked before the line went dead. Combeferre sat silently, the phone still held to his ear as he blinked in shock at the mans reaction.