JSE Ego One-shots

The December was Never Meant to be Our Grave (Chase and Schneep)

Synopsis: Chase comes through looking for Schneep, only to discover that the good doctor has lost one of his patients.
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"Hey Marv, have you seen Schneep anywhere?" Chase asked the magician as he came into the room, running his hand through his hair with a worried look on his face.

Marvin shook his head and pointed down the hall towards the doctors office. "Try his office, I think I saw him go in there earlier."

Chase thanked the ego and made his way down the hall towards the good doctors office. Chase went to knock, but stopped before his knuckles could connect with the door and frowned, putting his ear up against the cool wood. He heard nothing, which confused the father. Usually, when the doctor took up residency in his office, he'd be playing music. Some days it was soft music, classical piano or violin, other days it was heavy and loud, deafening everything.

But now it was eerily silent, and that was a sign to Chase that something was wrong.

Chase cautiously opened the door and looked around the room. The lights were off, nothing but the dwindling light of the sunset through the blinds of the window to illuminate the room. Schneep's old oak desk sat vacant, scattered with papers and files of various patients. Chase entered the room slowly.

"Schneep? Are you here bud?" Chase asked softly, in the silence of the room. The quiet shuffling of clothes  from behind the desk caught his strained ears. He took a breath and rounded the desk.

Chase's heart stopped at the sight of the usually overconfident doctor curled in on himself, head between his knees and back against his desk, rocking back and forth slowly on the floor. Chase could spy the mint green scrubs under his clean white jacket, and the blue surgical cap covered the dark brown curls on his head. His glasses sat on the floor next to him, seemingly forgotten.

"Schneep?" Chase called out to the doctor.

The man tensed at the call of his name and looked up at Chase slowly.

Chase's heart dropped at the look on the mans face.

Henrik's lashes were wet, eyes glassy and red from what Chase could only assume was crying. He looked pale, even more so than usual. His hands were clasped together tightly around his knees as he held them to his chest.

"Henrik what's wrong?" Chase asked as he took a worried step towards his friend. He kneeled besides the man, gently resting his hand on the mans shoulder.

Henrik said nothing, but he ducked his head back down between his knees and unclasped one of his hands, pointing up at his desk. Chase looked up at the desk, or rather the Manila colored file that sat unopened. He looked back at the out of character doctor, but Henrik made no other movement.

Chase stood up and opened the folder. A patients file. He skimmed over the patients diagnosis, a harsh stage of leukemia had made its home in the unfortunate woman's body. Chase turned the page and gasped at what he saw. A death certificate, for today's date, with the woman's name and cause of death on it. 'Incurable Leukemia', the certificate stated.

Chase closed the file and gently placed it back on the desk. He crossed the room and opened up a small cabinet that sat across from the doctors desk, digging out a large blanket. The father brought the blanket back to the silently grieving man, and draped it over his shoulders.

Henrik jumped and popped his head up as Chase sat down next to him, leaning their shoulders together as he covered them in the blanket.

Chase sighed heavily and looked at Henrik, who now rested his chin on one of his knees, staring off into space. "Do you want to talk about it?" Chase asked softly.