Dr. Alejo decides ghost anatomy is stupid while Lancer waits.
Chapter 9: Can the Dead Die Again?
When Carmen Alejo was four years old, her older brother died. She was too young at the time to understand what happened. All she knew was that something was wrong with him and then he was gone forever. Her mother explained it as best as she could, saying it was like when Carmen's favourite toy car broke. She had left it on the patio table and a gust of wind pushed it off. The car broke in two when it hit the ground. Her father tried to put it back together, but it kept falling apart the second she played with it. It was an accident. Something unlucky happened, the car broke, and it couldn't be fixed no matter how hard they tried.
Carmen's brother had been broken, too. And, like the toy car, no one could fix him even though they did everything they could.
Carmen didn't open her first medical textbook until she was eight years old and set loose in a public library for the first time, but even as young as four she had decided: she wants to fix broken people.
Her goal over the years has always remained the same. The reasoning behind her ambition will never change; but she can't deny that as she has grown and learned more, she started to develop a fascination for bodies. She wants to know how they work, what keeps them together, what ruins them. Carmen, from a young age, has wanted to know all the ways a body can break so she can help put the next one back together. Or, even better, prevent it from being broken in the first place. It's why she chose pathology—forensic pathology—for her medical career. To look at broken bodies and understand them.
It's why she can't, for the life of her, stop looking at what few scans she has of Phantom's broken body.
Carmen checks the locker room twice to make sure she's alone before pulling out a binder she stole from the nurses' station on the third floor. The binder was empty when she took it, and she only hopes it was going to stay that way. She doesn't want to face the nurses' wrath if they find out she took something they need without asking. But she needs it, too. She has to put Phantom's medical file somewhere, after all. It's sparse, as far as medical files go. Carmen has no background information, no family history, and no medical history. She doesn't even have his age, only a guess at it.
What she does have are stills from Phantom's ultrasound and a few samples of his ectoplasm. It took her some time to put it all together. Between checking in on patients, updating files, and sneaking away to add things to Phantom's binder, she has spent most of the night and morning running around the hospital. There had been a solid thirty minutes around three a.m. where she managed to sequester herself in an empty lab and run some tests. It would have helped, however, if she had known what she was testing for. Ectoplasm isn't the same as blood, after all.
The results of the blood panel are mixed. According to the tests, Phantom has anemia, diabetes, acidic blood, no red blood cells, too many white blood cells, and a multitude of thyroid issues. They also say he's pregnant.
"Congrats," Carmen mutters to herself as she looks over the results for the umpteenth time. All-in-all, the blood panel was massive a waste of time. The ultrasound, however—
"Maybe that's a stomach?"
—has also proven to be a waste. She has scanned the images so many times she can draw them with her eyes closed, but that doesn't help her identify an internal system she knows nothing about. Some of it seems familiar. There's some kind of scrunched bit in the corner that looks like an intestine. Overall, the ultrasound is riddled with dark and bright spots. This either means Phantom is bleeding from literally everywhere or his guts are naturally soup. Like a thick stew with some chunky bits and lots of liquid in between. Considering the circumstances, it could be either, but Carmen is really hoping for gut soup.
The door to the locker room opens. Carmen snaps the binder shut and shoves it into her bag.
"See you," she says to her fellow intern as she rushes past. If they reply, she doesn't hear it. Right now, she just wants to go home and sleep the rest of the day away. She'll be right back at it tomorrow; and, hopefully, she will have a visit from her newest patient as well. Phantom had better show up. If he doesn't, Carmen will make him regret ever saving her life.
It feels like the sun shouldn't be out. William looks out through the floor-to-ceiling windows of Amity West's waiting room and expects a sullen sky. Clouds, rain, lightning strikes. If not that, then a setting sun. Or dim starlight, even. He looks outside and expects anything but a happy, sunny day. There's no sign of the thunderstorm predicted for that evening. That surprises William the most. It's barely after two but it feels like the day should be ending. The storm isn't expected until later that night. Maybe William will get his sullen sky then. Leave it to an English teacher to expect pathetic fallacy in the real world.
At this point, William should go home. There's nothing more for him to do here at the hospital, but Danny's parents haven't arrived yet. Last he heard, the hospital staff are still having trouble contacting them. William himself has tried calling multiple times. He had the school secretary call them hours ago when the ambulance hadn't arrived at the school yet. Not too long ago, he had even tried calling Jasmine, even though she is out of state, but she never picked up. The Fentons, wherever they are, are simply out of reach. That is why William stays.
Even though he is not family, even though there is nothing he can do to help, the thought of Danny being here alone makes him ache and he just can't let that happen.
He occupies himself with people watching in the meantime. Some visitors have been here just as long as William, or even longer. Doctors come and go, giving family members news, both good and bad. More than once, William has seen someone break down in tears. He doesn't know whether they were tears of sadness or joy. For their sake, he hopes it was the latter. At some point, he makes a game of watching the hospital staff, trying to guess what their job is. He focuses on the people only wearing scrubs, trying to pick out the nurses from the doctors, the interns from the attendings. What little he knows about hospital hierarchy comes from watching medical dramas, so he can't say his guesses are educated or even accurate, but it distracts him well enough. He plays until a flash of red catches his eye.
Dr. Alejo is exiting the lobby elevator. She isn't wearing her scrubs, though. Rather, it's her back that caught William's eye. Even though she has the strap around her shoulder already, she holds the bag to her chest, as if protecting it. William waits until she is halfway across the room before calling out.
"Dr. Alejo!"
She looks startled to hear her name, jumping in place. It takes her a moment to find him, but when her eyes fall on him, she frowns.
"Mr. Lancer!" She makes her way across the waiting room, lowering her voice to a respectable volume once they're close. "How's our patient? His check-up isn't supposed to be until tomorrow. Did something happen?" She scans the room, head swivelling back and forth. If she's trying to be discreet, she's very bad at it "Is he here?"
"Yes. No, sorry. Something happened. Not medically!" he rushes to explain when Dr. Alejo's eyes widen. "At least not that I know of. I said something that upset him, and he left yesterday. I haven't seen him since. He's not the reason I'm here."
"Oh." Her stare hardens. "He better not be thinking of skipping his appointment tomorrow."
"Right."
Dr. Alejo lingers, glaring at him. She stares for so long William thinks she's mad at him for letting Phantom go—not that he could have stopped the ghost boy. It isn't until he waves his hand in front of her face that he realizes she has zoned out.
"Doctor?"
She blinks. Her eyes clear. "Sorry. Just thinking of what hell to bring down on him if he skips. If our patient isn't here, then what brings you here? If you don't mind me asking. Family Emergency?" She takes a seat to William's left and motions for him to sit back down.
"Not quite. It was a student of mine. His family hasn't arrived yet, so I'm staying until they do," William explains.
Dr. Alejo nods. She rubs at her eyes and yawns behind her hand.
"Are you... Excuse me, but are you only just getting off work?" William asks.
"Intern life. I'm on a pediatrics rotation this week. I got to keep an eye on sick little kids all night." Dr. Alejo smiles in a way that makes it painfully obvious she does not enjoy that task. "My shift ended, oh"—she checks the time on her watch—"two hours ago. But I wanted to look at some of Phantom's samples."
"You took samples of him?" William asks.
"His ectoplasm," Dr. Alejo elaborates. "He left a lot of it on my floor, you know. I wanted to see if I could learn anything from it."
"And?" William leans forward.
Dr. Alejo barks out a laugh. "It's ectoplasm! I have no clue what to look for. I went over his ultrasound scans, too, and I'm still lost there. Saw something that could have been a stomach, I don't know. It's all very human but a bit to the left."
"About that..." William wonders if he should tell Dr. Alejo about Phantom. It's not his place to say, but she is Phantom's doctor. He nearly does, but then he thinks of Phantom's horrified face when William confronted him. William isn't sure if any trust exists between them. He hadn't considered the possibility before yesterday. Until now, he has trusted Phantom the same way anyone in Amity Park trusts their protector. But the fact that Phantom called on him in the first place... it implies something more. William hadn't taken the time to consider that before, too focused on the absurdity of the situation, but it strikes him now just how odd that is. Why would Phantom trust him?
On the off-chance that he still does, and that William hasn't scared him away forever, he decides to hold on to Phantom's secret. For now. At least until he can see the ghost again and talk to him properly about it.
"Why are you in pediatrics if you don't like seeing sick children?"
Dr. Alejo tilts her head, noting the abrupt change in subject. "I don't think anyone likes seeing sick children."
"I'm sure you know what I meant.
"I'm going into pathology, but Amity West's intern program requires us to do rotations in other specialties to help expand our skills. I find it easier to deal with dead meat than dying people."
William needs a few seconds to digest that. It's a crude way of saying it, but he understands what she means, or thinks he does. "An interesting view for a doctor to have."
"I'm very unique, thank you." Dr. Alejo shifts in her chair, getting more comfortable. William is almost afraid that she's going to fall asleep on him. "Oh, sorry. I never asked. Your student, are they okay?"
"Oh. Right. Danny." Willian hadn't forgotten, per se, but Dr. Alejo distracted him enough that he could pretend, for a few minutes, that today isn't the worst day of his life. It was nice while it lasted.
"Danny?" Dr. Alejo asks.
"Fenton," William elaborates. Her gaze lights up with recognition, but William expected nothing less. The Fentons are infamous, after all. Everyone in Amity knows their name. The interest, however, comes as a shock.
She leans in. "Really? He's here, right now?" Seconds ago, she had looked a lullaby away from collapsing in a snoring heap, but now her eyes gleam. William hates to be the one to ruin her sudden good mood, but there's no easy way to say it.
"He is, but, well." William swallows the lump in his throat. He has to look away, lowering his head into his hands to hide his watery eyes. "You see, he died."
