carpe diem

1

A stack of files drops down on the desk in front of Regulus, jumping him out of his trance he was in while scrolling down the drug list to prescribe an epileptic with another round of prescription drugs.

"When are teenagers these days going to learn the consequences of not knowing their alcohol tolerance?" 

Without looking up from the computer, Regulus replies, "Having fun down in emergency?"

"It’s a Friday night, I should have braced myself for the herd of vile drunk individuals filling up the waiting room," Euphemia sighs, dropping down in the chair next to him with a huff. "How’s the ward going?"

"Standard so far," Regulus shrugs. "That chap you sent up a few hours ago? He’s already in theatre. Subarachnoid haemorrhage. I’ll be surprised if he makes it through the night if he’s lucky enough to actually make it off the table."

"I love your pessimist attitude this early in the morning, Regulus," Euphemia sighs, but when Regulus looks up, she’s smiling. "Who’s the chief surgeon on tonight?"

"Aldridge," Regulus grunts, swiping the printed prescription as it comes out of the printer and placing it straight in the patients file. "Hence why I’m here writing up yet another prescription for our favourite dementia patient instead of assisting on a juicy brain surgery."

"You’ll get another chance," Euphemia smiles. Then she frowns, "Penny lost their prescription again?"

"Indeed," Regulus kisses his teeth as he tosses the file on the desk and leans back in the chair. He glances up at the clock: 2:05AM. Six more hours to go and then he can crawl into his bed in his silly little apartment and sleep for the next four days.

"She’s sweet," Euphemia says through a wide yawn.

Regulus loves night shifts because of his natural nocturne body clock, but he has to applaud Euphemia, who is in her early 50’s and still puts herself down for equal amounts of night shifts as everyone else.

"She’s a pain in my ass," Regulus counters, and Euphemia barks a laugh loud enough that a trainee anaesthetist glances over their shoulder at them. 

"You love her really." 

"She was nice, up until me and Dorcas had to literally dance with her for 40 minutes the other night just to convince her to go back to her bay," Regulus rubs a hand down his face. 

"How many times have you had to rewrite her prescription for her recently?"

"This is the fourth time in two months," Regulus looks at her, instantly recognising the calculating and suspicious look on her face. "Don’t worry, I’ve checked her bloods and urine each time, she hasn’t been overdosing. I’m going to contact social services in the morning because she needs more support at home. Her dementia is progressing too fast, she might even need to be moved to somewhere someone can look after her properly."

"No family?"

Regulus shakes her head. "None that are alive. I’ve asked and I’ve checked the records as well. Widowed at 35 and never had kids. The only family she had was her brother that lived in Australia, but he passed away three or so years ago."

"That’s sad."

Regulus shrugs a shoulder lazily, eyes down on the prescription as he scraps his signature, "That’s life."

Beside him, Euphemia scoffs, "If you weren’t like this when I was your mentor I’d be worried this job is turning you cold."

Regulus grins at her. "I’ll only get worse as my years of practice rank up."

"Or you’ll get softer."

"You wish, Doctor Potter."

Regulus has been a qualified neurologist doctor for just over 16 months now. Qualified at 22 years old, he was thrown face first into the world of working on the front lines of a busy neurology ward in the middle of London after four years at university. Regulus remembers being surprised when he applied for the course back over five years ago when he was 18 to find out it would only take four years to study and to qualify in a specified speciality, but when they started and the professors explained the course he’d chosen was different from other courses because they’d practically thrown seven years worth of studying into just four years. Regulus was expecting it to be intense, and it was. It was so hard sometimes that he was sure he was going to give up. Out of 50 students in his university class, only seven qualified into their chosen specialities. 

Regulus met Euphemia Potter during his third year placement on the neurology ward, back when as students, they were ping-ponging between different departments to soak all the information on every single injury and illness and disease possible. She became his official mentor when he chose neurology to be his speciality at the end of third year, and she became the first form of a mother-figure since Regulus cut ties with his own when he was 18. It wasn’t like Walburga was much of a mother to begin with anyways, so it took a while for Regulus to warm to Euphemia’s kindness around the workplace. She might have favoured him at some points, not that Regulus ever really understood why she took such a liking to him, but Regulus still pretends to take all the credit for his impeccable reputation as a young doctor. 

Since qualifying, the neurology ward has become somewhat of a second home to Regulus. Or more like, his own apartment has become his second home, considering he spends more than half of his life actually at work. It still mesmerises Regulus how quickly respect came when he put on the dark red scrubs and white coat. Instead of walking around in the pale blue scrubs that had STUDENT stitched on the back in huge white letters, he got to wear the same colour as those who are qualified. Wearing the same colours as people like Euphemia filled Regulus with a pride he hadn't ever felt before. 

Regulus loves his job. He loves the knowledge, the work, the unpredictability for those who are sick in different ways. He loves the buzz he gets when he figures out suspicious and difficult patients. 

Regulus doesn't know how he managed to slot into the ward like he's always belonged there. He knows he's not the easiest person to get along with, and he knows some people think he's harsh and rude to most people unless he knows them well enough (apart from patients, of course, although there are plenty Regulus would happily throttle). The students that come onto the ward  shadowing other nurses and staff members instantly seem scared of him. Euphemia says he just has the kind of face that intimidates people. Regulus knows she isn't wrong: the Black genes have that natural effect on people. 

Four months ago, it was Euphemia who pushed him towards studying to become a neurosurgeon. 

At first, Regulus declined the idea. He’d only been qualified a year, barely got his foot in the door of being a neuro doctor, and he will never admit that the idea of progressing so early into his career was absolutely terrifying to him. He listened to her though, all the while cringing listening to her gushing about his abilities and natural knack of medicine and neurology, but it’s times like now he sorely regrets it because Aldridge is the second chief of neurosurgery and absolutely despises Regulus. He hated Regulus even before he qualified, when back in his fourth year, Regulus showed the neurosurgeon up with a patient because he argued that Aldridge had misdiagnosed them and was going to perform a futile surgery for no reason. Regulus was right, which is why Aldridge hates him with a burning passion, and continues to hate him even after he’s qualified and been accepted into the neurosurgeon programme. 

"Doctor Black, can you sign these? They’re the discharge papers for room 450," the nurse, Alex, asks as she drops a file down on the balcony of the reception desk. 

"Only if you’re an angel and grab another coffee when you go down to the mess room," Regulus replies as he swipes the file and takes his pen out of the chest pocket of his scrubs.

Everyone on the ward are also aware of Regulus' slightly concerning caffeine addiction. It's often the way people get him to soften up by offering him lattes and free coffee. Alex is practically good at remembering about it.  

"Black with no sugar?"

"You ask every time and it never changes," he replies as he hands back the papers.

"Thank you. Nice to see you, Doctor Potter," Alex smiles.

"You too, Alex," Euphemia smiles back, and then Alex is jogging off.

"What are you doing up here anyways?" Regulus asks as he leans back in the swizzle chair. 

"The consultant took over for a little while so I could do some paperwork," Euphemia replies. "Figured I’d come up here were I won’t be disturbed and I can spend time with my favourite grumpy doctor."

"How kind," Regulus grunts, tilting his head. "This the paperwork that you haven’t started yet?"

Euphemia sighs. "Do you ever take a break?"

"Never have time," Regulus replies, and just as he finishes speaking, the phone console next to him rings. He side-glances the older doctor, a smug smirk twitching the corner of his lips. "See?"

He see’s the flicker of Euphemia’s eye roll before he’s spinning in the chair and snatching the phone off the holder.

"Doctor Black speaking."

"Reggie!"

Rolling his eyes, he replies, "What do you want, Bartemius?"

"Always such a pleasure to speak to, darling," Barty laughs. "I’m sending some scans up to you. We got a young lad sent to us that was complaining of chest pain but blood works have come back and we’re potentially looking at meningitis. Do me a favour and double check the CT scans and confirm for me?"

"Does your brain stop functioning after two in the morning?"

"Regulus, my darling, everyone’s brains stop functioning after two in the morning apart from yours," Barty replies. "Just do me the bloody favour and I’ll bring you a latte when I get my break."

"Alex might beat you to that. She’s already promised me coffee."

"Stop using the nurses and appreciate me wanting to come and see your sorry ass," Barty laughs. "Also, Alex makes a shit coffee."

"No one can mess up black coffee."

"That’s because having just black coffee is messed up already," Regulus can hear Barty’s eye roll through the phone. "You need some milk and sugar anyways, sweeten your morbid ass up."

"Go fuck yourself, Barty."

"Such vulgar language on the hospital phone!"

"Just send the scans over and get your ass down to wherever you manage to get lattes from at two in the morning," Regulus replies. "And no sugar, seriously!"

"Anything for my sweetie pie," Barty sing-songs, and his cackle is cut off when Regulus slams the phone down. 

"No one would ever believe you two are best friends," Euphemia muses. She’s got her files open now, fountain pen in hand. She looks amused as she glances at him from over the top of the papers.

Regulus rolls his eyes. Again. 

"He’s like a parasite," Regulus replies as he opens the scans that have been sent over on the computer. "As soon as he latches onto you, he never lets go."

"Lovely," Euphemia chuckles. "Barty’s assumption correct? We got a meningitis case coming up?"

Regulus looks at the scans for another moment. It’s small, but it is there, clear as day on the mans spine.

"Indeed," Regulus sighs. He phones Barty back and tells him to bring the patient up whenever they’re ready.

Within an hour, the young boy is on the ward with antibiotics going through an IV line and settled in one of the side rooms. Euphemia is gone by the time Regulus gets back, but it doesn’t matter because a nasty trauma patient is sent up from A&E that has Regulus’ hands tied with CT scans and MRI’s for the following two hours before he’s wheeling them into surgery. 

The rest of the shift passes in it’s orderly and jam-packed fashion. Barty never comes up with his latte, but Regulus figures cardiology got busy at some time during the last hours of the shift as it did for neurology. Barty was right though, Alex did make a shit black coffee, but Regulus is so used to them now that he drank it purely for the fuel of the caffeine instead of the taste.

Regulus is 40 minutes late handing over to Dorcas, but he doesn’t think she minds as when he finally makes his way back to the neurology reception desk she’s happily flirting with Mary.

"Sounds like a fun night," Dorcas muses once he’s finished giving her the rundown of the patients and schedule for the day. "Enjoy your four days off, Black. Anything fun planned?"

Regulus scoffs as he bands over his bleeper. "Coursework and wine are the only things on the agenda for the next 96 hours."

"I’m not even surprised," Dorcas laughs. 

Dorcas qualified a year before Regulus, and despite being in different training years they spent a lot of time together when they were both students on the neurology ward. Both with particularly hardened and cynical personalities, they have always gotten along like twin flames. Dorcas also smelled Regulus’ raging homosexuality from a mile off, and was actually the one who made him confident enough to admit it. Everyone seemed to know before he’d said it, of course, but Dorcas, being so openly lesbian in and out of the work place, helped him come to terms and break away from the shame of liking men that his parents had been shoving down his throat since he was old enough to know what sex was. 

As he’s walking down to the mess room to change out of his scrubs, his phone buzzes in his pocket. Pulling it out while dodging the traffic of wave of fresh staff coming in for the morning shift, he reads two texts from Barty.

Barty (08:04) breakfast round pandora’s? evan said she’s been up all night stress baking because she had a shit shift yesterday so we’ve got about 50 muffins each to eat through

Barty (08:52) running late again? dorcas won’t be happy

Rolling his eyes and ignoring the latest message, Regulus types out a reply.

Regulus (08:53) will there be blueberry muffins?

Barty (08:53) of course 

Barely three seconds later, another text comes through.

Barty (08:53) and pancakes!!

Regulus types out his reply as he walks into the ward changing room.

Regulus (08:54) say less. getting changed now, meet you down by the car

Regulus changes out of his scrubs and into his normal clothes. It’s September in London, and despite driving to the hospital since he’s now got a frequent wage to pay for a car instead of having to battle the public transport chaos before and after shifts, Regulus still refuses to wear his scrubs home like some members of staff. 

Just like he refuses to wear his own clothes at work like some other doctors. He likes wearing scrubs, likes having a uniform that he can take off at the end of the shift. He loves his job, and being a doctor is practically his whole lifestyle, but there is something about being able to take off a uniform that makes him feel like he’s leaving his workplace and going out into the real world. It was something Euphemia taught him back when she was his mentor: that there is a glowing importance to learning how to leave ones work and home life separate, and Regulus’ easiest way of doing that is by physically stripping it off when he finishes a shift. 

Plus, they don’t lie in medical school. Hospital scrubs are bloody comfortable.

Barty is leaning against the bonnet of his car when he makes it down there, two hospital cups in hand.

"A latte, your highness," Barty greets.

"Better late than never," Regulus grunts, and Barty flashes him a shit-eating grin as they climb in. 

Regulus met Barty in university. Regulus had started the course three weeks late due to swapping universities to escape his parents that were still in France. He was dormed with Barty, back then a savvy 19 year old who’d gone to university a year late because he was made to work with his father for a year before he finally admitted to his parents law wasn’t for him and that he wanted to be a doctor. Barty said it was only because of the respect the job beholds that he thinks his parents were so okay with him not following in his fathers business footsteps. Evan was their other dorm mate, same age as Regulus, 18 and fresh out of college wanting to be a paediatric nurse. 

Regulus doesn’t know how he managed to click with them so fast, considering Barty is an asshole to everyone and Evan was as stuck up and pretentious as Regulus was. All of them coming from old money and strict families where their childhoods were filled with standards and high-class dinners. Regulus was a loner as well, as he never had real friends before due to his parents unreasonable demands about who on the level of high society he could be associated with growing up. Regulus wasn’t under his mothers thumb anymore when he dropped out of law school in Scotland and trained himself down to London at 18 to get away from their talon claws of control over him, but he still found it hard to migrate into actually having friends instead of just having his fathers business associates for company. 

Living with Barty and Evan for four years made it almost impossible for them not to become friends though. When they spend every second of the day together apart from when they were showering, it was surprisingly easy for Regulus to become accustomed to them and actually enjoy their company. 

Five years after they met, and despite working on different wards in the hospital and no longer living together, they still spend a considerable amount of time together.

Barty and Regulus quickly bonded over their difficult families. Though Regulus hasn’t ever gone into much detail about his own, Barty was quick to spot the symptoms of a toxic home. Barty’s parents never physically hurt him, but they sure did keep him on an unreasonably tight leash growing up, which is why Barty was so wild during their first year at university. Regulus wouldn’t have been surprised if they were qualified for AA meetings by the time they went on summer holidays after surviving first year. Barty was open about his relationship with his father, or more lack of, if anything. Bartemius Senior was described to be the classic business man that always puts work before family, and despite Barty being a successful and qualified cardiology doctor, his fathers expectations still haven’t been met.

Barty’s father’s reaction to him qualifying was literally you could do better than just a doctor. 

Regulus is still surprised that Barty hasn’t held it against him that’s already studying to be a surgeon, but that’s what he loves about Barty. Despite his attitude to everyone, Barty is incredibly loyal to his friends and will protect anyone he loves to no end. So when Regulus admitted to him that he’s already studying to become a level up, Barty was nothing but supportive. He took the piss for a long time about Regulus being a smart-ass and a nerd, but the pride in his voice drowned out the snideness. It was meaningless teasing, and Regulus knows that.

Barty and Evan became the brothers Regulus lost since Sirius ran away when he was 15. Them and Pandora replaced the family that either abandoned him or drove him to literally cutting them off. Regulus hasn’t spoken to a single member of his family since he was 18, and yet five years on, he still doesn’t need them. 

"It’s my mothers birthday on Tuesday," Barty says after ten minutes of sitting through London traffic. Rain is hammering down on the windscreen, so Regulus can’t even begrudge sitting in London rush hour because if they’d got the trains, they would have be soaked to the bone before they even got to the station. 

"That’s come around fast," Regulus replies after a greedy gulp of coffee. "You going home to see them or are they coming here?"

"Are you kidding me? I’m going to them. No way am I giving my father anymore ammunition to slate my life by showing him my bullshit apartment," Barty scoffs. 

"Didn’t your dad give you the money to put the deposit down on the flat?" Regulus asks, despite already knowing the answer.

"You’re point?"

"You know my point. He gave you the money to buy a hot-shot flat anywhere in London, yet you chose to buy a dingy one just to spite him."

Barty shrugs, feigning innocence but Regulus can see the twitch of a smirk as he pointedly looks out the window.

"Maybe I wanted to see what it was like to live without luxury for once in my life."

"We lived in dorms for a year and then a student house for three more where we had to share one bathroom," Regulus replies. "Was that not lacking luxury for you?"

"You don’t get to comment on my life choices when you keep the last 18 of yours so secret," Barty chides.

Regulus replies with nothing but a silent nod. Barty is right, he supposes. None of them know where Regulus came from apart from he was born in London but lived in France for a while. He just thinks it’s easier to keep the rest of the details to himself.

"He already thinks my career is a fluke because I’ve 'settled for being a doctor'," Barty grumbles, naturally changing the subject.

"Your dad is a dick. You’ve been qualified for barely 16 months."

"You’re already training to be a surgeon, Regulus," Barty replies dryly.

"Yeah, well, I’m smart," Regulus shrugs a shoulder. "It’s a wonder you made it past second year if you ask me."

"Fuck off!"

Regulus grins, flashing his teeth. 

"When are you going down?"

Barty moans pitifully. "Train’s booked for Friday morning."

"It could be fun," Regulus tries, even though he knows it’s futile. Barty hates going home. Regulus supposes he would be the same if he still spoke to his parents.

"It’s a waste of holiday that’s what it is," Barty grumbles. He groans loudly, slumping down in the passenger seat dramatically. "Feel free to crash the car anytime now so I’m too injured to make the journey."

"Say you got food poisoning. Can’t get the train cos you’re shitting yourself every five minutes."

"Used that one last year, they won’t believe it again," Barty moans into his hands.

"Well, I’m out of ideas."

Barty glares at him. "You’re meant to be smart."

"I am, I just don’t want to waste brain function when it’s fun to see you suffer."

"You’re evil."

"You wouldn’t like me if I wasn’t."

Regulus indicates to get off the busy main roads of London and takes a backstreet short cuts to head towards Pandora’s.

Regulus met Pandora Fontayne in his first year of university too, except she wasn’t living on campus but instead at home and just commuting to campus for classes. She was taking a midwifery course, but Regulus and her first interacted in the library when she sat down at his table and said he looked lonely. She instantly declared herself to be his friend, and at first, Regulus was repulsed. She was far too bubbly and happy for Regulus to even fathom spending any decent amount of time with her. She bothered Regulus a lot in the library, always sitting with him. Regulus doesn’t know when he went from dreading her to adoring her, but it was a gradual switch so subtle that he doesn’t remember when he started to enjoy her company. Pandora wedged herself into his life and has refused to take leave ever since, but Regulus knows if she went away now, a gaping hole would be left in her place.

Pandora ended up taking two years out of studying when her mother became sick with breast cancer. Too far gone for chemotherapy, Pandora and her father looked after her at home. However, her father worked abroad a lot, so the caretaking was often left to Pandora and become so heavy that she took a sabbatical on her studies halfway through her second year. Her mother was lovely, and Regulus was more than devastated when she passed away last year. Mrs Fontayne was a tough cookie, easily the most wonderful woman he’s ever met, and he’d spent a lot of time round the Fontayne household helping out towards the end. Her mother held out a lot longer than the doctors destined her, which is why her death last January took a toll on the whole friendship group as well as Pandora.

So, Pandora continued her studying last September, after taking a year out to cope with the huge loss. She needed the time off, which is why she’s still training while everyone else has qualified. Hence, the stress-baking through the whole of a Saturday night.

Regulus doesn’t mind though, because he’s so tired he can’t even fathom the idea of cooking for himself right now and if Pandora’s breakfast wasn’t on offer, he would be going home to sleep on an empty stomach (which happens more often than not). 

Pandora lives in a flat in Islington. It’s small and shabby, but with the money she inherited from her mother she’s managed to snatch up a decent place for a student living in London. Plus, it’s not too far from the hospital or Regulus’ apartment in Kensington, so it’s never out of his way to go up after a night shift for some free breakfast and muffins. 

Finally parked up and letting themselves into the apartment, the two of them are swarmed with the small of fresh pancake batter and coffee.

"Honey, we’re home!" Barty calls as he kicks off his shoes.

"Kitchen!" Evan shouts back.

Walking into the kitchen, Regulus realises Evan wasn’t exaggerating when he told Barty that Pandora was stress baking. Every surface of the small kitchen is covered in trays of muffins, piles of pancakes, and an unnecessary amount of variety cupcakes.

"Fucking hell, Pan," Barty cackles. "What the fuck happened to cause this?"

Pandora is elbow deep in needing some pastry by the sink. Flour and batter is in her hair and on her face. Her pyjamas are covered in bits of uncooked food and crumbs. Barty drops down on a bar stool next to Evan, who is munching through a muffin, cheeks stuffed like a hamster. Barty instantly takes a pancake off Evan’s plate, shoving the entire thing in his mouth. Regulus passes them just as Evan starts squabbling and instead heads straight to Pandora.

"Morning," he greets, leaning on the side next to her. "Rough night?"

"I like to call it therapeutic," Pandora replies. She stops needing as looks at him, a warm smile forming on her face. "You look tired."

"Don’t all people after four night shifts?"

Pandora tilts her head slightly. "I made blueberry muffins. Just for you."

Regulus smiles. "That’s why you’re my favourite."

"Oi!" Barty cries from behind them. He’s got flour in his hair now, and Evan has cupcake icing in his eyebrows. "I thought I was your favourite?"

"You were six hours late giving me my latte," Regulus replies. "You’ve been demoted."

"What about me?" Evan gasps.

"You don’t bake me muffins or bring me coffee."

"Speaking of muffins, please start eating them," Pandora says, waving a flour and pastry covered wooden rolling pin over her shoulder. Regulus watches as bits of food fly off it and land on the surface of her kitchen counter and floor. "I’ve got 15 sausage rolls ready to come out of the oven in five minutes and I haven’t got anywhere to put them."

"You know, Panda, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re trying to make us fat," Barty muses.

"Well, you can all do with more meat on your bones so stop whining and start eating," Pandora demands. She points at Regulus with a batter-covered finger, "Especially you."

Regulus blanches, leaning back to avoid getting assulted with food debris. "Why me?"

"Because your thighs are skinnier than my forearms," Pandora quips. "I’ve seen babies come out of the womb weighing more than you. Now sit down and eat a muffin."

"You’re mean when you stress bake," Regulus grumbles, but still, he takes a seat beside Barty and snatches a blueberry muffin off the stack.

It takes him a lot of self-control to not audibly moan when he takes his first bite. Pandora is a seriously good baker.

"So what happened yesterday?" Barty asks. Him and Evan have stopped having their food fight and are now both scoffing down pancakes drenched in a nauseating amount of syrup.

"I flunked cannulating a 20-something year old in front of her family, my mentor and a room full of doctors," Pandora says, and her voice is low with sadness. "The head midwife was there too, never been so embarrassed in my life. I took two attempts before the mother asked for someone more competent to try because I was hurting her child."

"What a bitch!" Barty grumbles. "Don’t worry, Pan. We’ve all been there. You wait till you’re qualified and trying to show a student how to do it and still can’t get the vein. That is embarrassing."

"Happen to you often, does it?" Regulus asks as he picks a chunk of muffin off and plops it in his mouth.

Barty rolls his eyes. "Not everyone is a natural at shoving needles into peoples veins, Black."

"I’m a natural at everything."

Barty knocks the muffin out of his hand and it smacks Pandora in the back of the head. Safe to say, Barty does not get to take home any of the homemade sausage rolls.

— tbc.