O.K, so this is the Dave chapter I've been working on for a long time. It just never seemed to want to fit together quite how I envisioned, but this version is the best of those I came up with and I just decided I was being far too much of a perfectionist. But enough with the babbling. I'd like to apologise for any medical errors I make, I'm not a doctor nor do I ever wish to be one (though I admire those who do greatly) and I'd like to apologise in advance in case I've written either character unrepresentative to the way they really were.
Chapter 20: "Demons"
Dave Malucci, M.D
Northwestern's Burns Unit, 18/6/02, 14:20
My future is inextricably linked to hers. I can see it in every encouraging smile, in her fiery, determined eyes. And it's a weight almost too great to bear, if I'm honest. Knowing that if I don't survive this it will kill her too. Living every day in the knowledge that I will destroy her. One way or another, I'll bring her down. She doesn't deserve that, or me.
We talk. All we do is talk. That's the problem. I'm too open to her. She's seen more of me than even my own mother. And all the time she's here with me is time she could be using to fight her own battles. She thinks I don't know she's facing the end of her career because of that day, because of the scarring to her hands. Scarring she sustained helping me. She thinks I don't see her pain.
It's a cliché but as much as I need her around, I can't bear her presence either. There's too many memories at work, it's claustrophobic.
Now at least a partial recovery is in sight, scarring notwithstanding, I know I'm about to be brought crashing headlong into the reality of my situation. I'm about to go head to head with all the demons lurking in the shadows.
"Hey, what's up?"
Snapping out of my own thoughts, I focus on her. Her eyes are red, bloodshot, although she has made sure she's scrubbed them dry.
"Fancy seeing you here,"
I know it's lame. I'm keeping face. I don't want her to know. Not this time, how I'm really feeling.
"You were a million miles away,"
I nod, momentarily mute.
"Want to hear some good news?"
I can tell the sarcasm and the bitterness in her voice. It's cold and almost hurtful.
"They can't do anymore,"
"What?"
"The nerve damage,"
She finished simply. She looked like her world was ending and I knew for once she wouldn't make light of it because I was obviously far worse off. She had had hope from the start that she would be able to work again, that she hadn't had everything ripped from under her by the bomb. Some days it was all that kept her going. But with the level of damage her nerves had sustained, they'd been effectively cauterized. Burns doctors are very special people but they can't heal everyone.
"Oh,"
I didn't need to say I was sorry. I never had hope cruelly snatched that way. I'd known from day one that my career was over. I was lucky to be alive. Yes, I was angry the way she is now. It's hard not to be about this entire emotional nightmare. But I had to focus on getting better, on not letting these people defeat me, it was a personal vendetta. Now, I fear, these people, the incarnations of whatever evil they are, are about to rise up and defeat me. From somewhere I haven't thought of yet is rising the rawest form of grief, the stage I missed through virtue of a painful limbo, my struggle to stay on this earth. I don't want to do this to her, to give up on her. It will destroy her.
"It's O.K. I knew it was coming,"
"Still,"
"It's just all I ever was was a doctor,"
A lie, but I couldn't say that. I couldn't explain it either.
"You can still be a doctor, just not in the ER,"
I wasn't much good at the supportive thing, but she smiled sadly anyway.
"No… It won't be the same,"
It would have taken a long time to get her back into an ER after what happened. But she'd always had hope. It was hard to deal with the end of hope.
"Anything changed with you?"
She asked suddenly, deflecting the conversation away from herself. I sighed.
"Nothing's changed,"
There were words in the silence I couldn't say. Things I could use to break her heart and my own.
"Something has,"
Don't push me please. Don't make me try to explain.
"Would I lie to you?"
My attempt to lighten the situation fell flat and lay dead between us.
"Not normally,"
She answered, still gravely serious.
"Don't push it, not today,"
I was almost pleading with her not to carry on this conversation.
"What's with the distance,"
"Just leave it, Deb, O.K?"
She looked shocked, as if I'd hit her, and I heard the sharp intake of breath. It was a second before I realized why.
"Oh…God...I didn't mean…"
There was only one other person in the world who called her Deb, and that was Carter. It was an honest mistake, but I saw how deeply it hurt her.
"It's O.K. You used to call me that too,"
"Only to annoy you,"
I could see she wanted to smile, but something stopped her.
"It worked, more often than not,"
"It did, didn't it?"
"Do you think about them?"
She averted her gaze suddenly, struggling for words, as if my question had winded her. I saw the incline of her head to indicate an answer.
"Every day, one way or another,"
She added, looking back at me, knowing full well the weight of memories.
"Sorry,"
"Is that what's on your mind?"
I shrugged, hoping if I avoided the question that it and the inevitable feelings which followed it would go away.
"Nobody suffered you know,"
She was reaching out, trying to be of comfort, but I was in those seconds retreating from her, more aware than ever that I had to let her go now before I killed her.
"No, they left us to do that,"
The bitterness frightened even me. The dead had it easy in this, far as I could see. I know great people died that day, people who's true colours I haven't seen until now, but at least for them it ended that day.
"You'll kill yourself thinking like that,"
"And you'll kill yourself avoiding it,"
Her eyes were pleading with me not to get angry with her. I couldn't explain to her that she wasn't who I was angry with. It didn't make sense. There was an awkward silence, I could sense her inner turmoil, what this was doing to her.
"You will not give up on me, you will not!"
She blurted suddenly, unable to hold her emotions in. I heard her impassioned tone and knew it made sense. Why come this far to capitulate now? This barrier was far more than physical, this barrier consisted of me coming head to head with demons that have been lurking in the shadows for 3 months now.
"I can't…."
I sounded pathetic, and didn't expect her to understand. She turned her eyes away, seemingly disgusted. I hadn't wanted this to happen, not this way. I had to hurt her though, it was safer this way.
"Don't ever say that to me, not here, not now,"
She was blinkered, blinkered by a pig-headed belief in me, in a hope I wasn't strong enough to give her. She expected an answer and frustrated at my silence she continued.
"I have come too far. I have too much invested in you to watch you give up,"
"Maybe that's the problem,"
I said quietly. She was furious, I could see it, her hands were shaking, and her expression was slightly manic. I knew I'd hurt her. I had to. I had to hurt her now, to let her move on. She never cried, never even looked like she wanted to.
"I never asked you to care, I don't need you anymore than I did before,"
It hurt me to say it. If I looked cold, it was designed that way. I wanted to keep her close, wanted it too much, so much I feared her. She had her own battles to fight and I had freed her to do so. She left without another word. It really was best for both of us. Whatever life we could have had, carrying on the way we were, would have been far too precarious, too intense, and too dangerous. I wanted her to come back, I wanted her not to go, but it would be best if she didn't.
Chapter 20: "Demons"
Dave Malucci, M.D
Northwestern's Burns Unit, 18/6/02, 14:20
My future is inextricably linked to hers. I can see it in every encouraging smile, in her fiery, determined eyes. And it's a weight almost too great to bear, if I'm honest. Knowing that if I don't survive this it will kill her too. Living every day in the knowledge that I will destroy her. One way or another, I'll bring her down. She doesn't deserve that, or me.
We talk. All we do is talk. That's the problem. I'm too open to her. She's seen more of me than even my own mother. And all the time she's here with me is time she could be using to fight her own battles. She thinks I don't know she's facing the end of her career because of that day, because of the scarring to her hands. Scarring she sustained helping me. She thinks I don't see her pain.
It's a cliché but as much as I need her around, I can't bear her presence either. There's too many memories at work, it's claustrophobic.
Now at least a partial recovery is in sight, scarring notwithstanding, I know I'm about to be brought crashing headlong into the reality of my situation. I'm about to go head to head with all the demons lurking in the shadows.
"Hey, what's up?"
Snapping out of my own thoughts, I focus on her. Her eyes are red, bloodshot, although she has made sure she's scrubbed them dry.
"Fancy seeing you here,"
I know it's lame. I'm keeping face. I don't want her to know. Not this time, how I'm really feeling.
"You were a million miles away,"
I nod, momentarily mute.
"Want to hear some good news?"
I can tell the sarcasm and the bitterness in her voice. It's cold and almost hurtful.
"They can't do anymore,"
"What?"
"The nerve damage,"
She finished simply. She looked like her world was ending and I knew for once she wouldn't make light of it because I was obviously far worse off. She had had hope from the start that she would be able to work again, that she hadn't had everything ripped from under her by the bomb. Some days it was all that kept her going. But with the level of damage her nerves had sustained, they'd been effectively cauterized. Burns doctors are very special people but they can't heal everyone.
"Oh,"
I didn't need to say I was sorry. I never had hope cruelly snatched that way. I'd known from day one that my career was over. I was lucky to be alive. Yes, I was angry the way she is now. It's hard not to be about this entire emotional nightmare. But I had to focus on getting better, on not letting these people defeat me, it was a personal vendetta. Now, I fear, these people, the incarnations of whatever evil they are, are about to rise up and defeat me. From somewhere I haven't thought of yet is rising the rawest form of grief, the stage I missed through virtue of a painful limbo, my struggle to stay on this earth. I don't want to do this to her, to give up on her. It will destroy her.
"It's O.K. I knew it was coming,"
"Still,"
"It's just all I ever was was a doctor,"
A lie, but I couldn't say that. I couldn't explain it either.
"You can still be a doctor, just not in the ER,"
I wasn't much good at the supportive thing, but she smiled sadly anyway.
"No… It won't be the same,"
It would have taken a long time to get her back into an ER after what happened. But she'd always had hope. It was hard to deal with the end of hope.
"Anything changed with you?"
She asked suddenly, deflecting the conversation away from herself. I sighed.
"Nothing's changed,"
There were words in the silence I couldn't say. Things I could use to break her heart and my own.
"Something has,"
Don't push me please. Don't make me try to explain.
"Would I lie to you?"
My attempt to lighten the situation fell flat and lay dead between us.
"Not normally,"
She answered, still gravely serious.
"Don't push it, not today,"
I was almost pleading with her not to carry on this conversation.
"What's with the distance,"
"Just leave it, Deb, O.K?"
She looked shocked, as if I'd hit her, and I heard the sharp intake of breath. It was a second before I realized why.
"Oh…God...I didn't mean…"
There was only one other person in the world who called her Deb, and that was Carter. It was an honest mistake, but I saw how deeply it hurt her.
"It's O.K. You used to call me that too,"
"Only to annoy you,"
I could see she wanted to smile, but something stopped her.
"It worked, more often than not,"
"It did, didn't it?"
"Do you think about them?"
She averted her gaze suddenly, struggling for words, as if my question had winded her. I saw the incline of her head to indicate an answer.
"Every day, one way or another,"
She added, looking back at me, knowing full well the weight of memories.
"Sorry,"
"Is that what's on your mind?"
I shrugged, hoping if I avoided the question that it and the inevitable feelings which followed it would go away.
"Nobody suffered you know,"
She was reaching out, trying to be of comfort, but I was in those seconds retreating from her, more aware than ever that I had to let her go now before I killed her.
"No, they left us to do that,"
The bitterness frightened even me. The dead had it easy in this, far as I could see. I know great people died that day, people who's true colours I haven't seen until now, but at least for them it ended that day.
"You'll kill yourself thinking like that,"
"And you'll kill yourself avoiding it,"
Her eyes were pleading with me not to get angry with her. I couldn't explain to her that she wasn't who I was angry with. It didn't make sense. There was an awkward silence, I could sense her inner turmoil, what this was doing to her.
"You will not give up on me, you will not!"
She blurted suddenly, unable to hold her emotions in. I heard her impassioned tone and knew it made sense. Why come this far to capitulate now? This barrier was far more than physical, this barrier consisted of me coming head to head with demons that have been lurking in the shadows for 3 months now.
"I can't…."
I sounded pathetic, and didn't expect her to understand. She turned her eyes away, seemingly disgusted. I hadn't wanted this to happen, not this way. I had to hurt her though, it was safer this way.
"Don't ever say that to me, not here, not now,"
She was blinkered, blinkered by a pig-headed belief in me, in a hope I wasn't strong enough to give her. She expected an answer and frustrated at my silence she continued.
"I have come too far. I have too much invested in you to watch you give up,"
"Maybe that's the problem,"
I said quietly. She was furious, I could see it, her hands were shaking, and her expression was slightly manic. I knew I'd hurt her. I had to. I had to hurt her now, to let her move on. She never cried, never even looked like she wanted to.
"I never asked you to care, I don't need you anymore than I did before,"
It hurt me to say it. If I looked cold, it was designed that way. I wanted to keep her close, wanted it too much, so much I feared her. She had her own battles to fight and I had freed her to do so. She left without another word. It really was best for both of us. Whatever life we could have had, carrying on the way we were, would have been far too precarious, too intense, and too dangerous. I wanted her to come back, I wanted her not to go, but it would be best if she didn't.