The Plague Doctor -

A gremlin sat straight up on his bed, wiping the blur out of his eyes as he eyed the time on the clock. He looked at the world outside, a sky made of metal and gears and a town filled with those stricken by the plague, the sounds of silence drifted from beyond as the gremlin slipped on his uniform, an odd mask with a pointed nose filled with aromatic flowers, black boots, a black hat, and his usual black cloak that billowed in the artificial wind. Today, he was going to check on the watchmaker a block down, and kept a brisk pace as he walked along the putrid streets.
He is a plague doctor.
He tried not to make contact, but the groans of the afflicted came from all sides, and the dead bodies of those who lost their lives were littered in the streets like garbage. Garbage, he thought, were those all their lives were? Meaningless garbage to simply be thrown out along with broken machinery and ripped clothing. His train of thought was stopped when he saw a small gremlin child sitting on the corner of a street, shivering although he had a full cloak covering him. The plague doctor walked to him and looked down upon the child, his eyes welled with fear and tears as he covered his mouth to conceal a harsh cough, only to spit out blood in the process. The child's big eyes were nearly milky white, and the plague doctor put a hand near his forehead to feel his temperature. Drat, he though, he was high. The plague doctor outstretched a hand towards the child, and the child sniffled before standing up on two wobbly legs. The plague doctor asked in gremlin tongue where his parents were, and the child replied that his parents were broken. The doctor heaved a sigh and realized that he had nobody to look after him, and with a heavy heart he took his hand in his and told him that he would look after him.
When they reached the house of the watchmaker, the duo was greeted by a putrid stench, but the plague doctor was used to the smell after treating so many and seeing too many of them die. The signs were obvious, discolored fur followed by bad coughing and high fevers. He instructed the child to wait outside, but he clung dutifully to the plague doctor's leg. The doctor sighed and knocked onto the door, ignoring the fact it had a large red X painted on the front.
No response.
The doctor took out his one and only tool, a Valestone Staff with a sharp point and picked the lock, opening the door that made a creaky echo as he walked in. The stench came from above, and the doctor, foreseeing the horrors that awaited him, instructed the child to stay down there. The child, noticing the force in his words, complied easily. The doctor walked up the stairs carefully to see a sight that was so gruesome, that it was sad that he was used to it. A gremlin body, hanging above the floor, suspended by a noose. The gremlin's eyes were glazed and foamy saliva had formed at the mouth, dripping onto the floor as the gremlin's expression was forever fixed in an anguished snarl. The doctor sighed, and walked back downstairs to see the child dutifully sitting on a small chair. The doctor nodded to him and the child followed him out, blissfully unaware of what the doctor had seen.
The doctor checked the child again, and realized that he had little time left, confirmed when the child gave a short, raspy cough. He realized that, he could do the same thing that he had done many times and end his suffering with his staff, but could not bring himself to hurt an innocent child. He had not done anything to contract a disease that cut his life down to mere days, the doctor heaved a sigh and the child, sensing his anguish produced a small picture book from his pocket and pushed it towards the doctor. The child nodded to him, and the doctor realized that the child could not read. He opened the book and read the words out loud, a story telling of an adventurer finding out how to open the Core, when in the end all he needed to do was accept his disparity of being bested by the challenge, and the core opened for him, granting upon the adventurer an immortal life and all the happiness he could need. The plague doctor smiled as he finished, the child laid his head down and yawned, and said one more thing before he fell asleep. The doctor leaned close to him, and the child spoke in a small, wishing voice, that he could one day open the core as well, and bring all the happiness he could ever want to cure the plague. The doctor fell asleep hours after the child did, and when he did he realized one thing. They were going to the core.
They did not need to pack much, as the doctor had little to no possessions to begin with and the child was orphaned. They decided to go back to the child's former residance to pay their respects to find out later that officials burned down the building to restrict the plague. The journey to the core would take two days at best, but the doctor knew that, the child would not be able to make it after that. He simply wanted the child to have his final resting place in a comfortable area, so that he could die fulfilling his final request. They left under the cover of darkness, so that the doctor could slip past the guards and let the child through the gates of their smell gremlin village undetected. The path to the core led through a small forest that was usually harmless, but during the night the creatures would awaken and prowl. The doctor had experience fighting and dispatched any smaller wolvers easily, but he had told the child to close his eyes when there were encounters. When the sun arose, the child was given a little more energy and ran circles around the doctor, who paid no attention. The child found a small patch of flowers of different colors and gave them to the doctor, smiling happily as he stared at the artificial sun and relaxed in it's glow. The doctor thanked him, and slid the flowers into his cloak amidst his numerous inner pockets. The child yawned and sat sleepily on a patch of grass. The doctor watched him fall into a deep sleep and stood guard, holding his staff tightly when the child's eyes fluttered awake. The child asked if he could hug the doctor as he slept, as the night was cold. The doctor, noticing that the temperature did drop steadily, laid down on the grass as the child curled up next to him. The doctor did something that no doctor should do to a patient, at least a patient that he knew very well was going to die, he became attached to the child, a mistake that he knew he was going to regret later, but he made a small prayer to the gods of cradle, a prayer that spoke the only thing that was on his mind.
He had no idea how he was going to do it, but he was going to help the child live.
The doctor awoke the next day to hear the child's heavy coughing once again, and hastily carried him down the path. He created a small tonic with water from the river and some of the herbs in the forest. It wouldn't stop all of the symptoms, but it would stop the worst ones, at least. The doctor remembered how bitter it would taste, and told the child that it would have the taste of sweets if he drank it all, and the child, at first flinching upon first contact, downed all of the tonic. He had scowled in the end when he did not receive the sweet taste that was promised, but the doctor and the child shared a laugh. Laughing, he thought. In such a time where it was impossible to nearly smile, he had seen too many impossible things in one day. He carried the child on his back down the long road leading to the core when the child's breathing became faster and raspier, and he stopped answering to the doctor's calls.
The doctor, fearing the worst, set him down and listened his breathing, to hear a faint heartbeat and the sounds of the child's dying breath coursing through his lungs like a clogged pipe. He did not have long, he thought, and carried the child on his back for the rest of the way. Upon reaching the core, he found it abandoned by the knights and set the child down on the balcony overlooking the core. He shook him awake and the child gave the doctor a dreary smile, until the child saw the core. The child sat straight up and made a grabbing gesture for the core, his hand nearly blocking out the entire core from his perspective, and the doctor hoped for the best as the child made a wish with his last breaths. The doctor held onto his hand, before the hand that was making a grab for the core started to go slack, before the child's eyes began to close once again, before the grip the child had on the doctor's hand began to fade. The child smiled one last time and thanked the doctor for his help, before the child went to sleep and never woke up again.
The doctor waited a long time to something to happen, a heartbeat, a breath, a spark of life from the core to at least tell him that he did something right. He mourned the child's death, taking out the flowers from inside his cloak and placing them on the child's chest as he stood up and stared at the core, glaring with all of the hatred in the world as he thought about how whatever god allowed a child to such have a short, sad life. He was enraged by his fate, to do nothing but see those who's lives are touched by the plague to wither and die, and not be able to change them, to save them, to find a cure for them. He wondered about how the child may have ended up differently had he not interfered, maybe he had been mauled to death by a bandit or maybe taken to an orphanage to make a friend or two before dying, all the same fate, with the endpoint of the child's death. The doctor pulled the cloak closer around him and tipped the hat in respect of the child's death and wondered why he would ever think he could save a life with a fairy tail legend. After all,
He wasn't a miracle worker,
He was a plague doctor.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

Note - This is my first time writing in a WHILE since I did a fanfic that spiraled out of control for me. I would appreciate some feedback!