Chapter Text
Death was never supposed to be seen as something tragic for Dennis Withtaker. He was taught that once he left this imperfect world, he would land in a safe and comforting place in the sky with all his loved ones. After all, this was what he has always considered the truth ever since he was a kid: Through our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ anybody could be saved from damnation.
In Broken Bow, small town in Nebraska, there wasn't really any other way of thinking about life—or death—that wasn't partially dictated by the Mormon Church. Once someone passed on to a better life, their soul would go in a temporary realm called the "Spirit World" where they would be able to preach the gospel to the less fortunate ones who didn't get the privilege to live it. In theory, this was a positive way of thinking about our lives after the inevitable tragedy that is death, but he was the only member of the Withtaker family who didn't think that way, having been deconstructing his faith ever since he first left Nebraska. To him, death was just an open invitation to brood over thoughts he was sure he had left behind at the farm.
But now he was 27 years old. He had a job to pay off his exorbitant student debts, an actual place to stay after living in the closed-down wing of the hospital for a while, and a somewhat lovely roommate. He no longer was the troubled 22 year old kid who was left wandering a city 30 times bigger than his hometown. There was no time for thinking about his faith, or rather lack there of… Still, that shitty cross that would lightly bounce on his chest every time he walked, was just a constant proof of a stubborn anchor to his past. He knew he was just way too sentimental… Mourning a faith that never truly served his soul.
It had been a year since the death of Amy's partner, first-time mum whose husband had died roughly 10 months before in the ER, and Dennis has found himself hanging out with her more than he'd like to admit. He was well aware that this "whatever-ship" wasn't really that professional, and he should set boundaries with her, but after all this time in Pittsburgh, such a chaotic and fast-paced environment, the sole presence of Amy felt like a rope he could hang on tightly to not let go of the one version of himself he left in Broken Bow ages ago.
However… One thing that made things awkward for Dennis was that Amy was Christian. Well, not exactly that- But more the fact she thought he was Christian as well.
He had been as well at some point in his life; there was a time when he'd be outside working in the heat, wearing his cross necklace proudly like his mother taught him to, the gold crucifix glistening under the flaming hot Nebraskan sun. But deep down, he had always dreamt of a different life, further away from the Church and its God-forsaken rules. He wouldn't dare take it off.
He's more than sure that he isn't a believer anymore, he just feels like the cross's presence grounds him.
Well, ever since Amy noticed it, she'd been slightly pushy about it; she'd send him bible verses she finds helpful with her grief, pray with him whenever they had dinner together (something that Dennis wasn't so keen on doing but did anyway out of respect), and talk about how she couldn't wait to raise a ravishing Christian boy. Of course Amy's beliefs weren't what Withtaker was worried about, she wasn't even Mormon like he was, so he wasn't afraid of getting back in what he'd consider a cult.
What he dreaded were the memories that she, unintentionally, was making him live once again.
It started a few days after that awful shift on the Fourth of July after many of his coworkers pointed out the much needed boundaries he had to set between them two. He was well aware of that and was somewhat trying to set a more professional relationship between them, hoping that Amy wouldn't rely entirely on him because for her loss, and he wouldn't keep on seeking comfort in a place that felt so familiar to home. But one thought would never cease to leave his mind; he was afraid of accidentally slipping back in the mentality he got rid of when he learned to accept himself.
It hadn't been too long since Dennis lost a patient, and if he were to burden his heart with every chest that stopped moving in this place, he would've changed profession long ago. Today though, a sweet elderly woman came during the usual "bed checks" that nursing homes and assisted living centres do in the mornings. She was a pancreatic cancer patient with jaundice and a fever that popped up over-night causing her to get checked at the ER. Dr. Withtaker was assigned this case, and since she was a DNR/DNI patient, all he and the other doctors could do was hope that her condition wasn't going to worsen.
During that short period of time when she was somewhat stable, Dennis was able to talk to her a bit since it was an unusually slow day at the ER—or at least, as slow as an ER ever gets—and she had no family left to visit her during her final moments. He could see how tired she was of this mundane life that she was left with in her deep, sunken eyes that clawed at his soul. Before the inevitable happened, the sweet woman spotted the small golden cross hanging from Dennis's neck while he was helping her into a more comfortable position on the hospital's bed, which was weird because he always made sure it was well hidden. Hidden under his scrubs and years of uneasiness. As she took notice of the small pendant, she tapped his shoulder and showed him hers. It made him chuckle in the moment; it felt like they were some kind of underground criminal organisation. But then it hit him. His smile faltered slightly before looking down at that forgotten living soul who was now glancing at him with hopeful eyes.
During that scarce amount of time she had, they were able to chat a for a while… She was hopeful about seeing her loved ones who had left this Earth too early, also hoping that one day, she'll meet upstairs the doctor who lead her to a gentle rest when she most needed it. Dennis felt relieved that she wasn't going to look back at this life in anger, but rather as a sacred journey before an eternal paradise free from pain, but he still felt a slight guilt growing in his chest since he was pretending to be what he wasn't anymore to make her departure feel lighter.
It was just moments after that she said goodbye. The doctors and nurses who had taken care of her that dreadful day all closed their eyes out of respect and stood there for a minute before heading back to work. Withtaker stood there with his eyes somewhat open, staring at the body lying on the bed.
That day he wondered if she made it to her Heaven.
The rest of the shift felt like a distant memory; he was able to do his job just fine, but even Santos took notice of the way his gaze looked even less connected than the usual. I mean… At all times, he'd have this devastated look on his face like his favourite horse back at the farm was shot dead in front of his eyes. Everyone in the ER described him as having the "eyes of a neglected hamster" or of a "sick Victorian child", something he never really took offence to… Sad to say, they were right.
One of the first people to notice Dennis's state was Dr.Robby, because nothing really gets past him and his need to be there for others. And also because he overheard their conversation earlier, but that's beside the point.
Since Withtaker was clearly still able to handle the rest of the shift, or at least Robby hoped so because the ER was, and will always be, very under-staffed, he decided to leave this conversation for later in the day; after all it was barely 9 AM and they had lives to save.
Now it was 8:23 PM, the day went on relatively smoothly and everyone was able to go home after finishing charts. The first to leave exactly on time was Joy, refusing to work more than she was paid for, and from then on, everyone from the day shift started to leave gradually—or was urged home by Dr.Robby—while the night shift nurses and doctors started to quickly swarm the place. Only a few remained; Dr.Santos, who was still trying to catch up with her massive load of unfinished charts, Dr.Robby, who pretty much lives in this God-forsaken place, and Dr.Withtaker, who had been staring at the computer screen for fifteen minutes or so.
It was normal for everyone in the ER to do over-time, so nothing really out of the ordinary was going on. Except maybe for Dennis and his new-found love for… pixels? That's what Trinity assumes he's doing since his eyes haven't moved away from the screen in God-knows how long.
"Wow… Has Huckleberry found a new interest in technology? Bet you guys don't have this stuff back at the farm, huh?" These comments seemed to finally free him from his thoughts, as he turned his head snappily to face the obvious culprit of said words. He sighed in an defeated and slightly annoyed manner, gripping the mouse to log out of the computer's system before getting up, and without saying anything back to her, they went to get changed before clocking out. In the meantime, Dr.Robby was also looking forward on clocking out, so when he saw Withtaker and Santos about to head out, he decided to leave as well, but since he didn't want to hold back the other doctor, he decided to drop the conversation he had somewhat planned all day. He'd ask about it tomorrow if Withtaker still looked like a kicked puppy on the side of the road.
The moment Dennis got home, he got changed into his "pyjamas", which were just a plain white wife beater and some chequered bottoms. Usually him and Trinity would hang out for half an hour or so in the living room after having a shit dinner and then head to bed; she would usually lie on the couch scrolling on Tiktok and bothering Dennis every two minutes to show him a video she finds funny, while he'd just sit next to her, put on his reading glasses, and continue a book from his pile of "I'll finish them someday" titles.
That day, it was different: Withtaker didn't have anything for dinner, left his clothes scattered all over his room, and headed straight to bed. And sure, Trinity could be nasty sometimes, but it was clear that Huckleberry had something heavy on his mind that day, so like the great friend that she was, she decided to at least check up on him and bring him a snack. She walked towards his room, knocked with some confidence and made her way into the space without waiting to know if she was welcome in or not. When he heard the creaking of the door, Dennis turned around to face the entrance and, already a bit drowsy, mumbled something about being tired from work and wanting to rest. He spotted an eye roll coming from her face. "…Need anything?" He mumbled as he sat up on his bed, knowing that Trinity wasn't going to take a mumble as an answer.
"Farming problems with Amy?" She asked teasingly, but when his expression didn't even falter a bit at the mocking remark, her face darkened and her cunning smile faded into a more concerned look. "Oh so it is about her." She gave him a snickers bar that has been sitting around their pantry for a good while and sat on the end of his bed. "So Huckleberry…" Trinity said leaning closer. "Tell me when your symptoms started." At the ridiculous act she put on, Dennis let out a sudden chuckle, betraying the moody facade that he had been putting on all day.
"Fuck you," He said giddily while opening his snack. "I'm good- just tired from being in a hell hole all day, nothing about…Uh… Amy, okay?"
"…Look Huckleberry, I'm not gonna act like your dad and give you the 'love talk', but I can't stand you looking more miserable than you already are." When she mentioned the talk, he stiffened slightly. It was funny because his father was never the one talking about those things, only the local Church's priest would preach about what was love and what was sin. His family had always been chaotic, but never really available for feelings and intimacy. Only the Church.
He could consider himself "lucky" that Nebraska wasn't a particularly Mormon state. In fact he has never even been to a Temple because his family lacked the money to visit one. Another thing he was grateful for is that his family, while all being LDS members, only adhered to the rules they were financially able to follow. They were capable of giving the Church 10% of the family income, but had never sent any of their kids to do missionary work because it was (thankfully) too expensive. They also didn't go to mass regularly and didn't follow every command… Some more devoted would call his family a bunch of "Jack Mormons", but nobody really is pure. Dennis knew that even the most faithful members were stained with sins they keep under the mattress. Nonetheless, he assured Trinity that he was doing great, he had to.
After some more pushing by the roomie and even more dismissal by Withtaker, she had given up. She left the room and went to rest in her own room, finally free to relax. After all, this was just the second shift out of four for the week and God knows she didn't want to burden herself with Huckleberry's issues any longer that she had to. A simple "Don't make me wake you up tomorrow." was enough.
Dennis ate the sneaker bar, attempted to throw the wrap in the bin and failed miserably as he watched the piece of plastic slowly fall towards the ground. Defeated he then sank heavily into his mattress, letting out a long sigh. He was fine. He really was. He turned his body away from the door and curled up inward, feeling his eyes welling up, he held in his hands the embodiment of what once was the truth for him, feeling so lost. He was sure of his beliefs, so why did the guilt not leave alongside God?
"In it's light choose the right… And God... Will bless you…"
"… Evermore." He mumbled under his itching breath.
Until the night fell heavy on him.