Chapter Text
April, 2020.
From across the protective glass, Bell apprehensively watched as Kit struggled to breathe in her sleep. Seemed as if the oxygen mask was no longer enough to keep her sats at a proper rate, which meant that the virus had likely reached her lungs by that point. In fact, since she was admitted a couple of days ago, her condition had only worsened.
Medical school had not prepared him to deal with the feelings of helplessness this illness had forced him to experience. He recalled her words ever so often; they were built to cut things open and fix them, nothing that had any concrete significance in the fighting of this particular battle. Such hopeless thoughts were only aggravated by the fact that, from all people, it was her lying on that cold bed by herself. It was her life at stake, and he so desperately wished he could change that.
Not that the prospect of losing any other colleague was not equally stressful. However, there was no denying that when it came to Kit, each and every one of his emotions was amplified on an exponential level.
Nothing was more important than her.
His somber thoughts and inner fears served as a powerful distraction in the midst of the chaos that had taken over Chastain. Hallways were packed with hospital workers running to all directions, doing their best to bring any sort of comfort and care to anguished patients. Covid was by no means a death sentence, but it was a painful reminder of the fragility of human life.
“You shouldn’t go in there anymore,” the raspy voice of a younger doctor caught his attention, though it was not enough to make him peel his eyes off the glass. Conrad now stood by his side.
“Not you, too,” the surgeon sighed. Over the course of the last day, Bell had heard this a thousand times. Yet, he stood firm in his decision, he was not going anywhere. The others might as well get used to it.
“I’m afraid that’s a direct order from Kim.”
The older man shot daggers at his fellow worker. “What?”
“I’m just the messenger,” Conrad sounded apologetic. “But he has a point. This is Covid, we shouldn’t be taking any more risks than necessary. And you going into that room thirty times a day unfortunately falls under that category.”
“How can I leave her there?” Bell’s gaze drifted back to the heartbreaking scene depicted right before them. It took a lot of restraint to not let himself fall to pieces at the situation. “She’s alone in there. Scared–”
“And the last thing she wants is for you to be sick too,” the Chief Resident carefully measured his words before proceeding. “Kit’s on board with this, you know?”
A knot formed on his throat, preventing Bell from speaking any further. Instead, all he could do was shake his head in a mix of disbelief and frustration.
“I’m sorry, but you’re not allowed to go in anymore.”
Sensing that Conrad had taken a couple steps away from him, the surgeon fired an unfair last shot. “If it were Nic in that bed, you would’ve told Kim to go to hell.”
The young man stopped dead on his tracks, only slightly incredulous at the previous statement. It was the truth, and he would concede to that. Nonetheless, he and Nic shared a more profound kind of bond, so to speak. In his conception, it made little sense to compare. Or at least, it did up to that point.
“It’s different,” Conrad eventually voiced his thoughts.
“No,” Bell took a deep long breath. Perhaps he revealed a tad too much, though in his current state of desolation, it hardly mattered. “It isn’t.”
Conrad fell silent. A few moments later and he strolled closer to the surgeon once again, taking the time to place his hand on Bell’s shoulder in a trademark comforting gesture. The pair stood there for the time being, sharing a rare, sincere moment.
--
“Kit’s CT scans are back,” Conrad handed Bell a copy of the results.
His heart sank at the sight of several white spots sprawled over the area that corresponded to the woman’s chest. It left him speechless, as he foresaw what the younger doctors were about to tell him.
“Her lungs are compromised in about 40%,” Devon cut in, pulling the surgeon from his momentary numbness.
“Intubation?” Bell’s voice came out weaker than usual. He struggled to even pronounce a word that was trivial in his profession, for the weight it carried this time around terrified him.
“Not yet,” Conrad replied.
“We’re opting for the nasal cannula again,” the first year resident proceeded to explain. “Although it is concerning, we caught it earlier than on Nurse Hundley. With proper medication adjustments and the high oxygen flow, I believe it will work.”
Bell nodded as he absorbed the full scope of the latest diagnosis
"You should be the one to tell her," the blond doctor eventually suggested, causing Devon to express his concerns right away.
“What about Kim?”
“The hell with him,” Conrad flashed a kind smile to the surgeon, who mirrored the gesture in return.
--
Once more, Bell found himself standing outside of her hospital room. This time, however, he was gearing up to go in for the first time since that ludicrous ban. Although it had barely been a day since he last talked to her, being that far away from the woman he cared so deeply for in this crucial moment made it seem like an eternity.
“You can’t be here,” Kit voiced from her bed as soon as she catched a glimpse of her friend sliding the door behind him.
“Who’s gonna kick me out, you?” Bell remarked humorously. The brunette’s reaction was to laugh, though the moment was cut short by a sudden coughing fit.
“Don’t think for a second that I couldn’t, even in my weakened state.”
It was his time to chuckle slightly, the realization that her sharpness had not withered away in such circumstances calmed him somehow. In a daring feat, he stepped closer to her bed. “How are you today?”
“Same old,” she shrugged. “By the way, thank you for the pastries you’ve sent. I’m sure I would have enjoyed a lot more if I could actually taste them.”
“It still beats hospital food,” he raised an eyebrow at her, cherishing the light mood that preceded the delivery of bad news.
“It does,” her expression turned into a serious one. She could see right through him, the sorrowful hint in his blue eyes revealed far more than he supposed. “Cut the crap, what is going on?”
“Your lungs have been affected,” Bell sighed. In all his career, he must have been in a similar situation countless times. Sugarcoating was off the table, he actually frowned upon it under normal conditions. Being straight-forward was his only choice, despite the fact it hurt him. “We’re going to put you on a nasal cannula for now, change the antibiotics again and–”
“Hope for the best,” she completed in a disillusioned tone.
The fear behind her blank stare was easily detectable. It evoked another painful sting of powerlessness that reverberated throughout his figure. She wound up in a sort of wordless trance; perhaps considering the present, perhaps dreading the future.
“On a brighter note,” he cleared his throat, capturing her attention. “I met Aisha and her mother on the way out just now.”
“Out?”
“Yeah, Nolan discharged them earlier,” the surgeon witnessed as Kit’s face slowly lit up again. “They sent their best regards and gratitude for all you’ve done.”
“We,” she amended and he conceded with a nod.
The patients in question were a single mother and her nine year old girl, both contracted the virus on a simple trip to the grocery store. Days later and the daughter, who had asthma, was checked into the ICU in a rather critical state. Although the older woman presented mild symptoms, she refused to leave her child behind. It tugged on Kit's heartstrings, and she made special arrangements to treat the duo. Once she fell sick, the case was transferred over to Bell.
He smiled at the brunette. “I also managed to score us a couple of tickets for the next fourth grade ballet recital. Aisha said she’ll do that grand preveau-something you’ve apparently taught her.”
She snickered at his botched french. In response, his heart did a funny somersault, and for a second it felt like lighter times.
“That kid is going far, trust me.”
“I had no idea you knew so much about ballet,” his voice perfectly conveyed his curiosity.
“Are you kidding me? I’ve spent all of my childhood practicing,” another couple of dry coughs forced her to stop and breath in deeply before continuing. “I only dropped it to come to this country for med school.”
“So like, you could’ve become a ballerina?”
“Yeah,” she smirked proudly.
Bell’s smile only widened at the newly unearthed information.
“You know how some patients tend to set goals for the future if they get through something?” Kit’s words made him snap out of the visions of her executing ballet moves.
He nodded, both in agreement with her and to make sure his thoughts would vanish. Not that time for that, he reprimanded himself mentally.
“If I ever get out of here, I want to go back to dancing.”
“Never too late for a change of career,” he added in a jokingly manner.
“No, silly. I mean for fun,” she raised her hand to lightly punch his arm, like she had done one too many times in the past. The realization of the context that surrounded them at that moment caused her to halt. “It doesn’t even have to be ballet. I’ve always loved to dance.”
The surgeon was pensive for a moment or two. “Say, when you get out of here, because you will,” his chest grew tight in an anxious reflex that made him feel like a high school kid all over again. “How about I take you out dancing?”
“You dance?” Kit sounded amazed.
“I don’t know the first thing about it,” he forced a chuckle, as he was sorely aware she had not answered. “Should be entertaining.”
“I’ll have to teach you then,” her lips curled into the brightest smile she could gather given her state.
“W-well, that’s uh. That’s great,” he scoffed at his own reaction. She had always held the power to easily render him tongue-tied.
Just as they settled on the forthcoming dancing lesson of sorts, Jessica made her way into the room. She carried a cart with an oxygen tube and the necessary equipment to insert the nasal cannula on the ailing doctor.
“Are you ready, Dr. Voss?”
Kit nodded before turning to the man by her side, a certain desperation infused in her request. “Can you stay?”
“If anyone could kick me out, it’s Jessica,” he eyed the nurse, silently pleading that she would be reasonable. After all, it was one of the motives he had scheduled her to be there right now, she understood him.
“It’ll be our secret,” the younger woman winked before spinning around to attach tubes and adjust the flow rates at the source.
Meanwhile, Kit reached out for Bell’s gloved hand from across the mattress. He held onto her dearly, as if his life depended on it, as if reassuring her that despite the barriers imposed, he would not leave her side.
And so Jessica carried on with the procedure.