Lilith Davies, newly minted ER doctor, loved and hated her job. Ever since she was a child all she wanted to do was become a doctor like her parents. Though looking back at it she sometimes wondered if those dreams were her own or simply due to parental influence. Not that it mattered much now. She slaved, struggled, and starved her way through medical school and she wasn't about to cast aside all her hard work over not being able to distinguish her goals from ascribed ones.

Lilith loved the adrenaline and pace of the ER; the way you would have to bend your mind and knowledge to fit non-textbook ailments. She loved seeing that moment, right after the patient had been stabilized when nurse, doctor, pysicians' assistants, and patient were all connected in a web of relief and simple joy at the gift of life. Needless to say, it only lasted a moment; there were an infinite amount of things to do in the ER and no one had any time to simply stand around and smell the proverbial roses.

She hated seeing people in pain, having to tell people to wait their turn because the ER was backed up and their injuries were not life threatening. She hated some of the reasons people came in. Kids getting their knee caps shot as a gang initiation, children with pieces of glass imbedded in their skin because their babysitter was too busy talking on their cell phone to pay enough attention, people with their legs crushed because their alcohol riddled minds couldn't tell that driving was a bad idea. She hated calling time of death; the inevitable moment when years of education fail you and you can't think of anything else to do to save your patient, even though you know there must be a way. There usually isn't, but that never stops you from feeling like a failure. The more seasoned doctors, some of whom have caught you sobbing in the supply closet during your break, tell you that it will get easier in time, that you'll build up a wall around your heart. Lilith both hopes and fears that that is true.

A crash of metal rails hitting the loading doors, shouts of the Emergency Response Team, and pathetic human groaning broke Lilith out of her reverie. She was by the new patient's side in a moment, and information was immediately relayed to her.

"Patient had multiple lesions on his arms, chest, and neck, as well as multiple puncture marks on his shoulders…" Heart rate, blood preasure, medications already pumped into the torn man's system, all information communicated to her and categorized. "One, two three, lift!" The body was transferred from gureny to table, the Response Team cleared out, the nurses and P.A.'s rushed in, all perfectly synchronized, almost like a dance. A chaotic, bloody dance. The patient's already torn clothing was being cut away from is body. Lilith was just about to turn to scrub up when the injured man's glassy and slightly crazed eyes locked onto hers and stilled her movements.

"Lucian." Blood-stained lips pushed out the word in no more than a whisper but Lilith still heard it over the din of the world around her. Then his eyes rolled into his head, his spine tightened and arched, foam poured out of clenchted teeth. More shouts- must stablize! 20cc! get a crash cart in here!- and then the sound Lilith hated most. That constant flat tone signaling the end of a life. The body slumped down on the table. His skin was ashen. There was too much damage.

"Doctor, shall we crack him?" The man would not survive. Too much blood loss. He was dead before he hit the table.

"No, call it." Lilith's voice sounded hollow to her own ears, she didn't want to know what she sounded like to others. The nurse nodded, no reproach in her eyes. She had been an ER nurse for twenty years, seen too much death to be truly affected. Lilith was grateful for that. When was that damn wall going to be completed?