#captainlevi

Her family had warned her about the terrors of this place. She saw it firsthand with Levi and she couldn’t help but think something bad may have happened to him.

He is dangerous himself but he is not invincible.

Or is he?

Claire looked back at her mother to offer a smile with a matching eager look in her eyes that lightened the mood in the place they now called their home.

“Good morning, Mama. Shall we get going?”

Agnes stared for a moment. She knew that her daughter knew what happened the night before. But still, here she was.

Whether Claire still hasn’t fully understood the circumstances of last night’s events which Agnes doubted because her daughter is quite insightful after all or she was simply being herself, effortlessly brightening everything around her which Agnes knew would be an act if that were the case.

The older woman sighed, dejectedly watching her little girl walk towards her with a smile on her small face.

An effort of a child, like only Claire could in her age, to feel and make everything is just like usual in her own way.

That is no small effort.

Eitherway, Agnes was grateful.

She refuses to see her daughter be tainted by this place. If only Claire could be completely untouched by horrors of this hellhole by not even being in here.

“Of course, honey. Wouldn’t want to be late for your first day now!” She feigned enthusiasm as she took Claire’s hand but not before securing the beret on her head to ensure her long hair would come flowing out. The twins trailed behind them at a safe distance.

Today, Claire is officially working with her mother in the hospital. Albeit just running errands like delivering medicine to those of better fortune in the Underground, assisting in procedures, or incinerating infectious waste.

Agnes had found a job in the hospital they saw when they arrived. It was barely operational with only a few patients per day. Not many could afford medical attention anyway.

She had let her daughter tag along just like she used to when Claire didn’t have school on the weekends or when her duty wasn’t toxic enough.

Besides, it was better to keep Claire close after the stunt she pulled with her brothers that day.

Dr. Paul Babin, the lone doctor left running the pitiful excuse for a hospital in the Underground, finally agreed to employ Claire and so she starts on her mother’s third week.

It is currently 6am but down in the Underground, it was hard to tell. Hence, the Fords family were extremely delighted when one day, Marius brought home wall clocks for each room.

That was also the day he last appeared to be the man and father they knew.

It had given them a sense of normality. As if they could get a better grasp now of the Underground. Upon their arrival, they somehow found it hard to function. It always felt like evening. It felt weird.

Being aware of time enabled them to feel a little bit in control of their lives once more.

Or so they thought.

Late last night, the siblings had awoken to raised voices.

Claire had shot up from her bed, the clock in the room she shared with her brothers was the first thing she saw.

“I need you to get this in your fucking head!”

“Marius! What’s wrong? Tell me. Talk to me, please. What is going on? What is happening? What are you talking about? Honey, please.”

Panic and fear were evident in the woman’s voice thanks to the slight faltering in her tone.

“Don’t you get it? It has to be done so we can get out of this fucking place! We need to get the fuck out of here!”

“Marius!” The woman’s voice was clearly in distress at the profanities. “Honey, please. Keep your voice down. Mind your words please. You might wake up our children… I don’t want them to see us like this. Please.”

A scoff followed by a strangled gasp was heard.

“You want me to quiet down? My words? Who fucking cares!”

A shudder ran down Claire’s spine in the venom in the man’s tone.

“Marius, you’re hurting me!”

Claire’s sweet fragile heart raised at the sounds. Disbelief flooding her system. She saw it in her brother’s eyes as well when she turned to find his presence beside her in bed.

These people couldn’t possibly be their parents?

She felt Bran’s hand in hers as he gave it a squeeze. Silently calming her with the simple gesture. Just like how she communicates best with her family.

Looking around, she heard the faint sounds of Alec’s feet as he padded to peak through the door. His shoulders tense and his stance rigid as he visibly contemplated exiting the room to confront the voices.

Bran’s hands then shifted to cover her ears as he held her head steady. Trying to catch her eyes. More profanities hung in the air.

She knew their parents were fighting but she couldn’t make sense of it.

“Focus on me, Claire.”

It was a little past 11pm. Had they been in Mitras still, it would have been perfectly normal to be startled by the noise.

But in the Underground, it was considered a norm.

So in the span of a little over a month they have stayed, they had no choice but to grow quite accustomed to it already.

The very first week was undeniably a transition. They’d all wake up with a start and would huddle close in the kitchen as a family until they settled.

But last night, the voices was that of their parents. Fighting.

That is never normal.

Never had Marius and Agnes argued before their children; let alone risk being heard with a suspicious tone towards each other.

Even when a fight was secretly on going, it was never really noticeable. They would still interact with so much love and respect for each other in front of their children.

And even when the siblings were not around.

No harsh words or vicious looks of hatred.

Marius would still kiss his wife good morning as he rose from the bed. He would walk Agnes to the exclusive hospital in Mitras and hold the door open as he kissed her goodbye tentatively until he would come to fetch her later in the day.

Agnes would still wake up and insist on cooking for her own family despite having help around the house. She would make tea just like how Marius likes it. Less honey and more milk, steeped for just the right amount of time. Its aroma beckoning her husband to wake up before she went to tend to their children to send them off.

But last night, Alec saw fingers pointed and tears being shed through the crack of the slightly open door. He had to turn and hustle his younger siblings back to the bed when they came to take a look; Bran having failed to restrain Claire as the fight went on.

The sight of their father shaking their mother by the shoulders wasn’t a sight Alec wanted his siblings to behold, especially not little Claire.

It was fairly difficult to go back to sleep after that. Even when the arguments died down. Their mother’s cries softened to sniffles while their father’s shouts lessened to heavy sighs.

The atmosphere of the Underground effectively caught up to them.

When their mother had come to wake them for breakfast, no mentions of the incident were made. To be honest, Agnes didn’t exactly know how to broach the subject.

There has never been a need to before. This was uncharted territory for all of them.

As they trudged down the stairs, the children were greeted with the sight of their father asleep on the sofa in the small living room adjoining the kitchen.

Even as they left, Marius maintained his slumber. It was a far cry from the family man they knew. It was like he changed into a complete stranger the longer they stayed in the Underground.

Lately, he comes home with an irritable mood and he frequented yelling before retreating to their bedroom. He often targeted the twins for trivial things like coming home late from their job in the market which was supposedly understandable.

Their walk to the hospital was silent. By now, Claire could finally go to and fro between their home and the hospital in one piece without getting lost.

Nevertheless, the twins insist on accompanying their mother and sister before going about the market for a day’s work. At 4pm, either Alec or Bran would come fetch Claire and walk her home.

Agnes often stayed behind until 6pm then wait for her sons to come by so they could all go home together.

She held Claire’s hand as they walked down the now-familiar path to work and she did not miss the way it was slightly tighter than usual.

Giving a subtle nod to the twins, they stepped on the threshold of the hospital before she saw her sons off to go the other way.

Just as they were taking a turn to the right towards the stockroom, a hand grabbed at her shoulder and Agnes instinctively pulled Claire behind her, whirling around to face whoever it was.

“You a nurse in here or somethin’?” asked a man with an ice pick embedded on his right eye, blood dripping down his face; barely showing any sign of discomfort.

It was quite amusing how Agnes, being the doctor, was caught off guard at the sight that she barely contained the gasp that escaped her.

While young little Claire had plans of her own.

Her heart pounded at the sight, never has she witnessed something so gruesome and brutal. But her feet were no longer under her control. Sneaking from behind her mother to gape at the man. Gingerly taking steps forward to ask an absurd question.

Clearing her throat to sound more boyish she asked, “Does it hurt, sir?”

The man laughed, “Not one bit, kid.”

Agnes’ eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat at the sight of her daughter moving closer to the man.

“Charles! W-would you do me a favor and get Dr. Babin please? Now.”

Quickly yanking Claire’s arm back, pulling the small frame only to push her towards the center of the hospital where Dr. Babin supposedly was. Their eyes briefly met and she fixed Claire with a stern glare, cautioning her silently.

Falling into physician mode, she turned back to the man to direct him to sit on a raggedy wheelchair, “I’m Dr. Fords, this way sir.”

Quickly maneuvering him to the ‘operating room’ of the hospital which really was more like a small corner separated from the other cots by a curtain.

Owing perhaps to the lack of sleep from last night’s encounter between her parents and yet another event this morning, it took a second before it registered to Claire that she was the one being spoken to.

Ever since they started at the hospital her mother had demanded that Claire be addressed as Charles whenever they were outside in the streets.

But then, considering Dr. Babin was a kind elderly man, her mother had relaxed after a few days around him that when no patients were around, she let her go by Claire.

Well that and the fact that Claire easily forgets she is supposed to be a boy.

“…Y-yes, Dr. Fords!” She called at her mother’s back to her.

Dr. Babin quickly gave Agnes a look as soon as he saw the patient. Which of course didn’t go amiss by Claire.

Oblivious to their arrival with her focus solely on her patient, Agnes closely examined the angle from which the ice pick penetrated, trying to gauge the depth of intrusion.

Afterwards she held a candle at a safe distance by his face and instructed him to follow her gloved finger. She mumbled, “Limited eye movement.”

Claire observed with awe.

To be honest, it amazed her how the man even survived. She would be lying if she said the sight didn’t rattle her. She was young after all. But it was her mother’s expertise that really captivated her, keeping her drawn to the horrendous sight, igniting the aspiration to be like her when she grew up.

The way her mother looked fully dressed with her doctor’s gown with a stark white cloth tied around her face and around her head to secure her hair as she dealt with the patient made Claire imagine herself in the future.

Right now, she is not her Mama; she is Dr. Fords. Completely in her element. It was like Claire entered an invisible barrier into another world. One her mother dominated.

She looked at Dr. Babin dressed like her mother as he cleared his throat to make their presence be known. The sound of the material of his gloves slapping unto his skin followed.

“Oh! Dr. Babin, you’re here. I took the liberty to do initial assessments. Patient arrived alert and oriented. By himself.”

At that the other doctor’s eyebrows quirked up.

“Globe appears to be intact but there are limitations to eye movements but perception to light is present, pupillary reactions are normal as well. So to say he is not blind in the injured eye, yet.”

“So Dr. Fords, what approach would you like me to assist you with?”

At that Dr. Fords gave the man a grateful expression. Despite his obvious seniority, Dr. Babin never asserted superiority in the hospital. He was humble to acknowledge that she knew more than him with her years on the Surface compared to his limitations down in the Underground.

“I would like to proceed with fronto-orbito-lateral craniotomy. There is no other way to find out the extent of the damage. But I’m afraid even doing so would be too late.”

“Indeed. Even if we can pull off appropriate decompression, there is obvious circulatory compromise evident by the severity of the bleeding.”

“I am worried about that. There is already too much blood loss and it’s already causing hypovolemic shock. We would need to correct that very soon.”

“Dr. Fords, if I may. I support the procedure you would like to undertake. However, we are not even properly equipped to push through with that kind of surgery.” Dr. Babin cautioned lowly.

It was both heartwarming and reassuring to see the trust he was placing on her but he was also stern and outspoken when it was called for. The fact that he was also open to learning from her always meant a lot.

Eyes of both doctors drifted to the bottles of alcohol and stacks of gauze in the supply cabinet which were pretty much the only supplies in absolute abundance.

“You may have some tools in your kit but I’m afraid his chances may be slim to none if we are to take that approach. We don’t even have an anesthetic strong enough. Besides, we are tremendously understaffed.”

Smiling apologetically, Dr. Fords whispered more to herself, “I tend to forget it’s different down here…”Meeting Dr. Babin’s eyes she asked, “Therefore our only option is blind removal of the penetrating object?”

“I am afraid so but that is the only intervention we can do rather than letting him slowly die with it.”

“But that presents risks like hitting vital structures, the globe itself, cranial nerves, and extraocular muscles.”

“And I also have no doubt brain tissue is already damaged.” Dr. Babin piped.

“That’s why I would like to do surgery. So we can close injured dura, remove hematoma, or debride injured parenchyma. But mostly to safely remove the object.”

“The patient would likely die on the table, Dr. Fords. We are not equipped for this. The least we can do for him is to remove it. He’s lucky enough it’s not a serrated knife.”

With a heavy heart, Dr. Fords nodded in agreement. If she were still up in Mitras she would have confidently gone through with it.

But Dr. Babin was right.

It would be pointless and brutal to subject the patient to such an extensive procedure. The least they can do is stabilize him with whatever resources they had.

Which was not much.

With a sigh, she faced the patient who was growing less cooperative and more pale. He was sweating and his breathing was starting to grow shallow.

Reaching to check his pulse once more, she noted it was weaker. She bent to whisper at the man’s ear.

“I’m sorry. As soon as we pull it out, you would be bleeding profusely. We would try and control it as much as we can. Then we can only attempt to prevent infection. Best case scenario, you can end up blind. Worst case scenario…” she trailed off.

Dr. Babin stepped up as she subtly stopped. He knew it was hard for her. “It’s the most that we can do, sir. Dr. Fords here would try to do it as quickly and precisely as possible.”

Unfortunately cases like this was not unusual in the Underground. There would always be more out there.

Upon hearing his inevitable fate, a look of panic, maybe even fear crossed the man’s eyes despite his progressing disorientation.

Dr. Fords quickly grabbed his hand and spoke in the most comforting tone she could muster given the situation, “Hey, look at me. What’s your name?”

“I… I’m… M-morris…”

“Well Morris. You are not alone. You are in good hands. It will be alright. I just need you to relax for me. I promise that we’ll try our best. Is that okay with you?”

She has used this tone one too many times before but it only ever works for the patients. Dr. Fords wished she could calm herself as well. It was never easy to bear bad news or be that last shred of hope for someone.

With a slight, almost unconscious nod, the man resigned to his fate.

Turning to Claire, both doctors eyed the child taking notice of her wild eyes and the slight trembling of her hands. Dr. Babin raised his eyebrows at Dr. Fords as if to ask if it was really alright to let the child stay.

Immediately picking up on the silent communication, Claire hid her hands behind her. Fixing the older doctor with a look of determination while ignoring her mother’s worried eyes.

Even if the patient was too out of it or she was on duty, the mother in Agnes shows; she still felt like she had to be cautious specially when her daughter was around strangers and so she couldn’t coddle her like she would have wanted which Claire would have hated anyway.

When he was sure the child was psyched enough for the undertaking Dr. Babin ordered, “Charles, I would need you to prepare something to elevate his feet. It’s going to help blood flow back into the heart to at least help alleviate the hypotension.”

While they really would rather protect her from such a gruesome sight, they also knew she was a tough one despite her soft appearance. The child always showed eagerness to learn.

“You can step this one out, kid?” at the determined shake of Claire’s head he nodded. “Alright, that’s more like it. You would have to be quick, okay? We’re counting on you.”

“Are you scared?” Agnes whispered as she approached her daughter. Quickly tying another layer of cloth around her small face and hanging an apron on her.

Claire knew, right now she is her Mama. However, she wanted to prove she could handle what comes her way but she still wanted to be honest, “Yes… but then I’ll just have to do it scared.”

At that Dr. Babin chuckled and turned to disinfect around the area of injury before giving a go signal.

With a sigh, Agnes wrapped her slender gloved fingers around the handle of the ice pick breathing in deeply and just like that Dr. Fords was back.

Moments passed as she readied herself. Claire and Dr. Babin each held their breaths.

Dr. Fords huffed, “Morris? Are you still with me? I won’t lie. This won’t be easy. I’m going to need you to stay awake, Morris. Can you do that for me?”

At his weak nod, she inhaled once more before starting to pull. Blood started oozing with every inch of the knife being withdrawn as swiftly and steadily as she could. They moved simultaneously as instructed.

Soiled heaps of gauze littered the floor as the doctors worked to get the bleeding under control. Claire stood by the other side of the bed once she had propped the man’s feet up; observing without getting in the way.

A normal child would have been terrified of the sight.

Her brothers would most likely think she would have buckled at the sight of too much blood. Although, Claire and Agnes knew it wasn’t the blood itself she feared.

She did her best to steel her heart and mind against it all. This was the first time she saw her mother treat a gruesome case up close. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears.

The scene before her, beads of sweat were present on both doctors’ faces. Their shoulders tense as they struggled against the odds exchanging potential approaches they could do to get the situation under control.

In that moment, Claire felt a sudden rush.

Despite not understanding the full extent of the conversation between the adults, she knew the man would never really be well.

Still, the thought of saving a life or simply helping another human feel the slightest bit better before the inevitable end that awaited was comforting enough for her.

Her mother was the most well-known doctor in the Surface. Right now, despite the crucial procedure, it felt like such an honor to be witnessing her mother in action along side another seasoned doctor.

Dr. Agnes Fords exuded such a powerful and confident vibe even when she herself feared, there can be no room for doubt in her abilities as a doctor.

“One day,” she thought. She can’t wait to grow up and work side by side with her mother feeling such an overwhelming pride to be her daughter, the worried of last night and this morning effectively washed away at that very moment.

“Clai- Charles! We need more gauze here!” Dr. Fords bellowed, voice strained.

Breaking into a quick run to the cabinet she gathered as much as she could in her small arms. Tearing packets to hand out gauze when she returned shortly after.

“I’m back-! Whoa! What have I missed?!”

“Not now, Amon! Get here quickly and find something to clean the floor or absorb all the blood for the meantime. We can slip on it.” Dr. Babin barked at his grandchild not even daring to spare him a glance.

“Shit!”

Head turning to both sides, he flailed as he tried to gather gauze and mops in his arms. In his haste to get things in one go, Amon himself almost slipped due to the blood on the floor.

Claire quickly approached the slightly older boy to try and soften his landing by pulling at the back of his shirt. With a sigh of relief he nodded his gratitude.

Dr. Babin could only shake his head at the ordeal of his grandson while they tried to defy what was surely a lost cause.

—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

Claire slumped on a makeshift chair on the corner at the back of the hospital, exhaustion taking its toll. She and Amon had just finished cleaning what appeared to be the scene of a crime.

“Great work, kid.” Amon spoke as he tossed soiled gauzes into a small medical incinerator. It wasn’t ideal considering how condensed the environment was in the Underground but they had no choice.

All she wanted to do was remove the cloth on her face to breathe better but she knew it wasn’t smart to do so.

Agnes and Dr. Babin were in the recovery wing of the hospital, situating the patient down before the loads of anesthetics wear off for a long and painful future until he’d succumb to his fate.

Both doctors simply trying to be there as much as they can to help ease their patient’s inescapable suffering.

They turned as they heard the children shuffle back inside.

“Are you kids done there?” Dr. Babin called.

“Yes, grandpa. Shall we eat now?”

“You kids go on ahead. You too, Dr. Fords. I’ll take first watch.”

“Thank you, Dr. Babin.” Agnes nodded graciously, turning to an awaiting Claire by the small pantry in the hospital. The food she and Alec prepared that morning for them to take to their work already laid out on the table.

Lunch flew by uneventfully and before long Amon stood up to get the supplies ready for their afternoon medication deliveries.

Agnes eyed her daughter wearily and it did not go amiss by the child.

“We will be alright, Mama.” Claire straight up said, quick to pick up on her mother’s mood. She knew her mother has been acting off owing to last night’s events and this morning’s rush.

Suddenly flooded by an urge to cry, Agnes lunged forward to envelop Claire in a hug, “You always know what to say, don’t you? Of course we will, sweetie. I promise.”

The way her mother was acting distressed Claire but she didn’t really know what to do. Instead she could only ask, “Did-… did Papa hurt you, Mama?”

Agnes was so taken aback she could speak for a moment and when she did the words came out in a rush. She could not fathom which was worse: that her children knew about the fight or that a daughter thinks her father would strike her mother.

“No! By the Walls, sweetie. No he would never. I am fine. Truly, I am. How about you?” Agnes asked, trying to regain composure while effectively deflecting the question back to Claire as she pulled back to get a good look at her daughter.

She was fine besides her troubled heart. But she could not say that out loud because if she was like that, how much more would the toll be on a child?

“I was… scared, Mama.” Claire said looking away.

“Oh my baby!”

The sight broke Agnes’ heart. Tears spilled before she could stop them and she hastily wiped them away, resolved not to break down in front of her daughter.

Claire has always been so open but here she was, having to be the one to try and comfort her own mother while uncertainly broaching a subject she never should have had to experience.

They were beating around the bush which they didn’t used to do but Agnes had not the heart to address matters yet. But she knew she must.

It was important to provide a sense of security for her daughter, specially in the situation they were in.

“I’m sorry you had to go through that, Claire, sweetheart.”

“I thought you and Papa no longer loved each other…”

“Of course not! Claire Agatha Fords! What made you think that?!” Agnes hissed in surprise. For the second time in less that five minutes she was rendered shocked beyond comprehension she had to use the full name but still had the mind to keep her voice low.

“Because-! Y-you always say people who love each other mustn’t fight… and-… and Papa was yelling at you and you were crying!”

Agnes sighed in defeat. They weren’t exactly setting a good example last night.

“Listen to me, sweetheart. Sometimes… sometimes Mama and Papa… have misunderstandings.” She paused finding it incredibly hard to explain things that didn’t used to be a problem in their family.

“Just like you and your brothers, right?” she teased tentatively, poking at the tip of her daughter’s nose eliciting a halfhearted giggle. “It is normal for grownups too. Only it gets more… serious. But what do I always say when you and your brothers fight? What is important is that you get to talk, sort matters out, and make up because that’s what people do when they love each other. The same applies for Papa and I.”

“… But you haven’t made up yet…”

“W-we are working on it, baby. It’s just that when the fights- misunderstandings are more serious they take more time to fix.”

“… So you still love Papa and he still loves you back?”

“Of course, sweetie. Do you stop loving Alec when he scolds you? Bran when he makes fun of you?”

“No…”

“See? Now cheer up. I thought you said we’ll be alright, hm?” Agnes cupped her daughter’s face in her hands. “Won’t you smile for Mama?”

Claire’s face broke into a cheeky grin and soon she found her cheeks a target of series of kisses from her mother.

Her laughter filled the pantry and Agnes found herself wishing she could stay stuck in that moment. Just like she did on Claire’s birthday.

Right before everything changed.

The sound of her daughter’s laughter however grounded her emotions, a reminder that they indeed will be alright. That despite such circumstances, there will always be light. There will always be moments when things would be as close to normal as possible.

Claire’s laughter carried throughout the confines of the hospital even Dr. Babin couldn’t help but smile at the sound of it. The presence of the mother and child brought an undeniable change in the atmosphere and it was something he could get used to.

“Shall we get going, Charles?” Amon asked as he stood by the doorway of the pantry a satchel already across his body while he held Claire’s by the strap.

Agnes’ face became grave once more and she pulled back to hold her daughter at arms length by the shoulders. “Whatever you do, you stick by Amon’s side. Keep your head down. Do your rounds quick and be back by 4. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mama.”

“You kids be careful, alright?” Dr. Babin called out.

Agnes walked them to the back door and Claire gave her mother’s hand a gentle squeeze before whispering, “I love you, Mama.”

She got a kiss on the forehead just as usual before letting go and Amon opened the door to lead her as they embarked on their delivery duty around the Underground.

Claire slung her bag across her small frame and breathed in the dank air. She unconsciously pulled her beret a little lower and she hunched beside Amon.

“Let’s go,” he said.

< Chapter 6 | Chapter 8 >

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