Work Text:
Dr. Pepper felt the wind ripple through her long brown hair as she hiked up Mountain Dew. The frosty air nipped at her nose, a stinging sensation.
She’d left the notes, making sure every one was in normal print—not doctor writing. That would mean they could read every single word and emotion she’d put into that crappy #2 pencil.
“I can’t take this anymore. It’s like a monster eating away at my heart—like someone’s cutting me open without anesthesia. I don’t feel right. Don’t think it’s your fault, I did this to myself. I love you.” She had written in all of them, only slightly altering the words for each person.
Dr. Pepper was known as the best doctor in their small town, but seeing her patients ill, dead, and injured left her with mental scars that could never heal. All the stress of rushing from room-to-room everyday, just to see another one lifeless—really screws with you. She couldn’t save any of them, all deceased due to her own faults. Her own mistakes. Her own choices.
Her hands, no matter how many times she washed them, were stained with the sticky insides of her patients, even those of her friends. When she’d decided to become a ER doctor, they’d warned her. They’d warned her that she would watch so many deaths it’d be hard to ever come back from.
And with the recent outbreak of rat-spread zoonotic disease… she had seen 20 victims pass on in the timeframe of a week.
She reached the peak, it jutted out of the surrounding rock like a skyscraper. She stood at the edge of the mountain, staring down the cliff edge, soon she’d be just another rock, tumbling to the rhythm of a landslide.
She sighed, studying the ground below her. There was her hometown, Colla, the house lights barely shining through the fog.
Would anyone other than her loved ones notice? Would they wonder where the brown haired woman with the thick rimmed glasses went?
The edge of the cliff seemed to whisper her name. Dr. Pepper pulled off her jacket and scarf, setting them on the ground next to her. The whispering got louder, it sounded more like yelling.
“Charlie! Charlie!” She snapped back to reality, realizing the sound wasn’t in her head. Canada Dry. They ran to Charlie, grabbing them, in doing so they nearly pushed her off themself, “Please Charlie! We don’t want you to go… You are so important to our community. We’d be lost, probably dead without you!”
“But what do I mean to you! What do I mean to anyone!” Charlie Pepper yelled, her voice cracking as she choked on the words. “The only reason people care is because they’d be dead without me. Is that what it takes? Do I really have to save your life just for people to love me?” She gagged on her tears. Mucus bubbled in her throat.
“Charlie… you mean everything to us-“
“Don’t you understand? I don’t care if the public likes me. I want someone, anyone, to like me for more than my deeds. Does anyone love my flaws? My face? My voice? I shouldn’t have to save you to have love! Love should be unconditional,” She realised then how much she’d bottled up, worrying about other people was so tiring.
Canada paused, understanding what she meant, “Please Charlie, you mean everything to me. I never told you this, but you’ve always meant something special to me. Not familial, not platonic, definitely not romantic, but you’ve always held a special place in my heart…”
Canada looked sincere enough,
“Please, Charlie. I couldn’t live without you, Charlie.”
Charlie buried herself in Canada’s shoulder, the scent of their ginger perfume and hair products overtaking her. She allowed herself to break. She babbled out unintelligible words, coughing and choking.
She didn’t expect someone to stop her like this, like they did in the movies. They didn’t say anything to each other for a while, Canada just held Charlie is a warm embrace.
“I know we don’t talk much, but I always look forward to seeing you. I should’ve reached out more. I’m really sorry,” Canada removed their berry sweater, putting it around Charlie’s shoulders as an extra layer, “Let’s go home.”
Charlie wiped a tear from her face, “I’m sorry…”
“Don’t be, now come on,” Canada packed Charlie into the car like she was a child, it felt weird because Canada was a bit younger than her, but it always feels necessary to baby someone who’s hurt. Charlie would know.
They drove home in silence, aside from the quiet music playing on the radio, and the occasional, “Move you jackass!” from Canada, screamed to an old man who probably couldn’t even see past his windshield.
This gave Charlie a lot of time to notice things. Canada’s hair was dry. The roots were light brown, no ginger, and the rest was over-bleached. It was nearly snapping, it had remains of green dye that was faded to a mint color. Canada’s neck was still stained green, but their shirt collar covered it slightly. They were dressed like a little farmboy, a frilly shirt and plaid slacks, yet they layered accessories over one another as though their wrists would never run out of room.
Rain hitting the roof of the car synchronized with the music radiating through the speakers, creating a comforting soundscape.
Canada was always there when they were younger, even though they never really got that close. The two had a few years between them, Charlie being 27 while Canada was 24.
Charlie’s eyes were heavy. She slumped down in the carseat, letting them close. Colors swam while she felt as if her body was clay, constantly being molded into different shapes. It always felt like that when she tried to sleep when tired, which with working the night shift meant almost all the time.
Next thing she knew, she was out cold, some of the first genuine rest she had gotten in years.