The Plague {One Direction AU}

4. Kathryne

Davis, CA
December 10

Kathryne couldn't breathe. She gasped and clawed at her throat for air. But she couldn't manage to get more than the merest mouthful into her lungs.

She knew this feeling all too well.

Panic. Attack.

She started having anxiety attacks in 6th grade, for no reason she or anyone else could identify. They just arrived, looked around the place, and decided they wanted to stay. And like an awkward and unwelcome houseguest, they popped up at the worst times and sometimes even damaged the furniture. This stupid panic disorder had cost her friends, boyfriends, jobs. But Kit had learned to live with it, cope with it, even make the best of it. She couldn't participate in all the social events her high school friends had, so she turned her attention to her school and volunteer work instead. Still, those adolescent and teen years had been tough.

Her mom thought maybe the panic was brought on by puberty. Gross. Why should boobs and blood and a little bit of hair trigger panic? Hormones, her mom insisted. Okay. Maybe.

But Kit was well past that now, ten years past that now. She gulped for breath again, leaning her hands against her thighs. And today's panic had a very specific source, a very specific cause. They had lost so many...so so many.

"Hey, Kit, straighten up, remember," Dr. Camacho said soothingly as he passed in the hallway, casting her a beaming grin over his shoulder. God, he was so hot. How was that supposed to help her calm down?

She stood up, lengthening her spine. Her lungs filled with air. "Th-thanks," she smiled weakly, wiping away the tears that inevitably came when she went through an attack. She dug her phone out of her pocket and dialed her mom. "Mommy," she whispered when her mom answered.

"Hey, hon," her mom wheezed on the other end. "You all right?"

"'Nother p-panic attack." She shook her head. There was so much more. But how could she say she had watched her entire cohort die over the past week? How could she say she had watched her teachers fading until there was nothing left? How could she say she had watched nearly all of her patients wither as well? She couldn't.

"Oh, Kit Kat, maybe you should come home."

"Don't call me that, mother," she sighed. "I c-can't. I mean, I'm needed here, but even if I weren't, n-no t-travel, they said on the news."

"I know," her mom echoed the sigh, "I just miss you. How's school going?"

Kit tried to lighten her tone as she spoke of her education. "Well, ya know, it's great. I told you about those f-few surgeries I did on my own," she could feel her mom nodding all the way in Ohio, even though she couldn't see her. "And I'm the t-top s-s-student in epidemiology this t-term." Of course she was. There was no one else left. She swallowed down a sob, unable even to feel proud of an accomplishment she had truly earned.

"That's great, Kit."

"Yeah, we're actually looking at this f-flu that's hit so hard." Her mom coughed and mumbled something inaudible. "Ya know, it's um, it's affecting s-several species of m-mammals." God she hated this stupid stutter so much. Another side effect of the damn anxiety disorder. It took her twice as long to say anything.

"Is it really?" She could imagine her mom's wide blue eyes, taking in everything she said.

Kit leaned against the wall, her heart rate finally normalizing. "Y-yeah. Not all, th-though, oddly enough." Talking about the science, about the work soothed her.

"Kathryne!" Dr. Vernon called her from the lab. "We need you, stat."

"M-mom, I have to go."

"Okay, sweetheart, I'll talk to you soon."