[Private] Miraculous Recovery

It didn’t matter one bit that I wasn’t going to eat in front of Laurel. It wasn’t going to take long for me to explain to her just why. I wasn’t even going to tell her, I was going to show her. And what a perfect setting this was. I had the perfect canvas, really for everything I needed. I wasn’t sure if you’d show, I smiled, while trying to tone down my enthusiasm. Perhaps it was time to start seeming at least a little bit normal, and actually show that I had things to say to her, which even without my plan, I would, even apart from just, “Sorry, I’m kind of an ass.”

I haven’t been here in a long time, I don’t even remember what they have to offer, I said, as I held the door open for her. I pretended to look at all the options, which really were slim. They didn’t even in the least make me miss being able to eat. The occasional whiff when you were near a steakhouse, sure. Salads with wilted lettuce? Hamburgers floating in lukewarm water? I didn’t think it was a bit crazy to prefer delicious blood over this. It wasn’t the taste. It was, the closest thing I’d felt to maybe an addiction. It was finding a cantina bar when you were in the middle of a desert.

It’s great they’re open and all, but this has me wishing I’d brought lunch. And then I imagined what that meant for me. Having some poor sap tied up in the closet? Waiting for me to get hungry? Okay, not a terrible idea really. I left the displays of shitty food and stood by the exit door, waiting on Laurel, not sure she’d find anything, and I’d give her props if she could.




“Lunch” was now over, and I didn’t eat a thing, obviously. I’d explained to Laurel that I hadn’t found anything appetizing, but since the accident, I didn’t have much in the way of an appetite anyway. I’d received a quick phone call about our patient downstairs, a few verbal orders and we were off the hook for a little bit longer. The new resident was taking care of my brain tumor patient. I was set, not that I would have cared. The rest of the world could just be on hold for this. I uh… I think it’s probably pretty obvious, but I’m not here for lunch, Laurel, I have something I want to show you. My affect was no longer excited, giddy, whatever, but it wasn’t sad either. It was calm, peaceful. I was anxious about this, the whole idea, which left my emotions a little on the bipolar end of things, but I was now comfortable. I was calm. I was going get the ball rolling, and whatever happens, would happen.

I started toward the elevators, watching to make sure she followed. I want to show you a patient in the Medical Intensive Care Unit. Someone who came in last night, with pretty severe trauma. The elevator door opened and I stepped in, pressing the button for the second floor. The door closed, and when it reopened, we were on the second floor which housed the two different ICUs. I stepped out and began explaining the patient’s situation. He was in a car accident, and he was high on, just about anything he could have gotten his hands on. Now, he really doesn’t have much of a life ahead of him, you know, you’ve seen it. Brain trauma, right now he’s intubated, sedated with propofol, and the family is debating on whether or not to pull the plug. I started toward the ICU, and pressed the code for staff to enter the doors to the unit. No one questioned our entrance, as night shift ran on a skeleton crew anyway. They had their things to do, and I had mine. I entered room 205, which was quiet and empty except for the patient and the ventilator, and the quiet whirr of the IV pump. I finally turned to Laurel. I want you to know, that you can breathe, this isn’t about us. I mean, I am bringing you here as someone whose opinion I value. I knew what I was going to do, no matter her answer to my next question, but I was curious.

He injured others in this accident. He’s stolen from his elderly parents for money, for drug money. I sat down in one of the wooden chairs next to the bed. Tell me, Laurel, if this man could be given a second chance - do you think he would deserve it?

Ben's actions during what was supposed to be our meal just confused me further. I knew eating hadn't been his idea, but he'd been so eager to meet me at the cafeteria that it was kind of... alarming that he didn't eat at all. I grabbed something small just to keep myself going, but I ate it quickly and could almost feel Ben's eagerness to leave throughout my meal.

Okay?I listened as we walked. The halls felt empty in comparison to the bustle of a busy night. Nobody paid us much attention as we passed. I didn't say anything as he explained the circumstances behind the patient's admittance to the hospital. It was sad, but nothing we hadn't seen before.

His explanation that this didn't have anything to do with our relationship didn't really make me any less curious. It explained the weird signals, I suppose, but if anything it just made it weirder. This wasn't his patient or mine. There didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary. Why would he need my opinion on, well, anything?

I remained standing even as Ben sat down. I looked at the patient; it was these kinds of cases that really made working in the hospital depressing. I'd never realized how powerless I was until I became a doctor. I'd been idealistic before, thinking that I could help people. But there was only so much you could do and rarely ever was there something you could do that would change what the patient did outside of the hospital. In cases like these, that mattered more than anything you could ever do inside these doors.

Despite all that, Ben's question surprised me but didn't baffle me. Everyone deserves a second chance. I said calmly. It was a good question to spark debate, but surely Ben hadn't brought me here to discuss ethics? What could he possibly want?

Good, I’m glad we’re on the same page. I smiled, looked from her, back to the patient. I picked up his wrist and read the armband, since I’d already forgotten his name. The patient wasn’t actually all that important. Almost any patient in the ICU would work, but this one was golden. Lots of obvious skin trauma. Road rash on his arms, a pretty big laceration that extended from his top lip to his forehead, just missing his eye. That would have left a scar. The name - Everett Burke. I would probably forget the name tomorrow, but Laurel, I was sure she would remember. Maybe some sappy shit, keeping up with him, making sure he didn’t fall into the same path. My eyes went to hers, and at this point I regretted just a little, not getting more practice with compulsion, but this shouldn’t be that big of a deal. I caught them, feeling that connection, and I spoke. Don’t run. Just stand there and watch..

I dropped Everett’s hand, at the same moment my fangs clicking. I raised my own wrist and let my teeth tear into it. I let the blood drip into his mouth, thankful that he was a mouth breather. Also thankful that he was on a propofol drip. Instantly, the roadrash began to fade away, the laceration on his face closed up before our eyes. There, I said, standing up, as my own wrist began to heal. I walked over to the sink and began to wash off the excess blood. Second chance given. When they stop the drip, he’ll wake up, clear of any addictions, lacerations, trauma. He’ll have a chance at a new life. I stopped speaking now, my gaze stuck on Laurel. I didn’t smile, but inside I was screaming to read her thoughts.

I don't know why, but I was kind of surprised when he agreed with my statement. I mean, I guess I didn't think that he wanted to have a debate or anything, but then again maybe I had. I just couldn't think of any reason why he'd ask except that he was going to try and change my mind, but he just went with it.

I found myself rooted to the ground, watching Ben. But what I was seeing... it couldn't be real. When he opened his mouth... he had... fangs? My mouth fell open as they ripped into his own wrist. I found myself wanting to look at my hands, wondering if it was a dream. I searched my memory, trying to remember if there was any way I could have been drugged, because that was the only explanation for Ben's sudden auto-cannibalism.

I kept waiting to wake up. Waiting for the dream or the trip or whatever it was to end, but instead it changed. Instead of eating himself, Ben was feeding his blood to the coma patient. I wanted to get away. Clearly Ben was... I don't know. Psychotic? As a doctor I felt obligated to use the correct terminology, but I wasn't sure there even was a word for what was happening? Had he joined a cult? Was he hoping to convert me? That would explain his erratic behavior. But where did his fangs come from?

But the man... he was healing. Right before my eyes. I was watching the wounds heal before my very eyes. At impossible rates. It was like something on television, but this wasn't television. But it couldn't be real life either. There was no way. Maybe Ben had slipped something into my food. Maybe that was why he'd wanted to get some food even though he hadn't eaten himself. Surely, this wasn't real. It couldn't be real. I felt something on my face. Were those tears? At this point I wasn't even sure what was real. And what could I say? Should I even speak? I gaped at him, Wha-? I shook my head. I don't- Finally I fell silent and reached up to wipe what were indeed tears off my face.

Maybe Laurel wasn’t as strong as I’d thought, and spending time with Sofia and Noelle had spoiled me. Was she in denial? Was she frozen by fear? Maybe if I hadn’t compelled her, because that certainly wrecked my credibility. I never remember being compelled, but maybe there was a certain dream-like aspect to it. I needed Laurel to believe this. All of it. It was crucial; I knew what I was about to do would anger her, shock her, and if she didn’t believe I could fix it, she would definitely defy me.

I shot over to her, now free to throw away the human facade. Laurel, I said, my thumb holding up her chin, bringing her face to face with me. You don’t need to be afraid, I have no intention of killing you, I’m showing you what I am because I want you to know what I can do. Maybe.. if I gave her a task. I walked to the nurses’ desk, which wasn’t far away, and grabbed the attention of the charge nurse, who was reviewing labs. Excuse me, you got a set of ears I could borrow? She pulled open a drawer, reached for a cheap stethoscope and handed it to me. I thanked her and returned to the apparently stunned Laurel. I handed her the scope, and then patted my chest where there would be heart sounds. Listen, Laurel. See if you hear anything? Perhaps I have a murmur. Maybe I’m in a-fib. Just let me know what you hear.