"We are here." - the title is a traduction of the french movement Yellow Vests and co's anthem song. We're here for each other, even if the coronavirus and quarentine had wrenched us apart, we're here to back up and support our amazing doctors and make the world a better place, hopefully, we're here and together, we'll get through this.

(I had written this a week ago, on the begining days of quarentine, I hadn't planned so but now, with me actually having the coronavirus, there is maybe more to explore and I might make a sequel when I am better.)

The children had been put to sleep, Michael insisting on them keeping a normal rythm of sleep even if they were home.

It had been now 9 days, 9 days since Michael hadn't got to work, 11 since Mike had stopped school. Much more since Sara had joined the war, right in the battle fields.

Michael had seen rough days, more than these, but while usually it was solely his world that would collapse, now it was the world around his that was collapsing and that seemed weird.

Michael had only gotten out twice since the quarentine imposed by the government, with his attestation, masks and gloves ofcourse. It had been once to complete some of their needs and buy some medical supplies, fill up more gel and get some paracetamol essentially, and the second time to buy milk when he realised the formula they had stocked for Faith wouldn't last that much and if he hated the impulsive behaviors of stocking means, he couldn't fathom not having any milk left to feed their 6 months old baby.

The world had seemed strange, on one side there was an almost scary stillness where the only sounds to be heard were birds chirping, and on the other side, too much people still behaved irresponsibly. He knew most people still went out at least once, to have a jog or let the dog out, people still going to supermarkets and making long lines to only buy their regular can of soda and frozen pizza.

Michael couldn't imagine that, even if living in their flat situated in the centre of Chicago was hard, their couple of meters balcony hardly enough to take some air.

Mike didn't showed it but he'd started to be affected, he'd snap at times, get a little grumpy. The balcony was a place where he'd wander quite a number of times in the days, his eyebrows furrowing in worry at seeing army officers down the streets through the day, and his eyes twinkling at 8pm when the whole neighborhood clapped and made noise for the doctors and medical staff, in whom was his mother.

Still, Michael didn't think taking Mike and Faith out, even just down the neighborhood would be a good idea, the parks had been locked by police forces anyway and Michael's LLI amplified the vision of each possible risk of contamination, door handles, lift buttons, the air outside, bars, cars, keys..

Faith didn't mind, her routine only disturbed by days at daycare replaced with days with daddy and she didn't seem to mind that much, for Mike ofcourse, it was harder. Not seeing friends or taking air, doing work at home..

Michael's own days were pretty rough, he had to telework from home, even if right now he put his whole career into interrogation, what was the need to make plans and structural verification as well as useless corporate bureaucratie while people were dying everyday ?

Afterall, they had said that all the 'useless' jobs would be told to stay home and Michael realised that even if his paycheck had many 0's to it, his job hadn't got meaning nor purpose in the society. Cleaners, rubbish men, hypermarkets counter workers, train dtivers, they all served much more a purpose than him.

And Sara ? She was essential to this world. Michael had always admired her profession, but even more so now. She was like a vital organ of the society, while he was a tiny nail that had no real purpose and could be replaced anyhow.

Honestly not putting his heart into work, Michael then would homeschool Mike, which even if Mike was a brillant kid, was not so easy. All the distractions and stimuli around the house used to distract himself more than Mike. And Faith, when she wasn't napping didn't really appreciate her dad being with Mike and would do everything to get Michael's attention.

Anyhow even with all that, Michael still felt the time was hard to pass, there was nothing to do. God hadn't he longed to take a leave and be home to do millions of things, but now his heart or brain didn't felt like doing anything.

He'd read when he could, trying to get his mind off of things. But he couldn't really concentrate too long on reading eaither. His mind too preoccupied.

He wouldn't say he wasn't worried, their family was all young and healthy...apart from Sara, who had had hypertension when she was pregnant with Faith and even though it was manageable now, Michael knew it was one of the things that worsened most of covid-19 cases. He hoped, prayed she wouldn't be contamined, but her being in direct contacts with the patients made it seem inevitable.

When he realised it was useless to play around because he was obviously too preoccupied by it, Michael would put on the TV, at least a couple of hours at day specially after dinner, and watch the news, watch them count the contamined and see the number of deaths rise day by day, hear the president and prime minister, doctors and specialists that spoke almost everyday.

Michael knew it was anxiogene, stressful, that watching them dramatise things and make histerical polemics had no sense, that whatever their leaders said on tv, the situation in the hospitals was a whole other world.

The door opened and he saw Sara's figure in the hall as she discarded her keys, bag and shoes.

She came into the light of the hall and he could see her worn and exhausted features. She brushed a hand through her neglected hair and mustered a smile for him.

"Hi." She greeted.

Michael would want to take her in his arms if he didn't knew better.

"Hey, how was the day?" He asked knowing the anwser as Sara let herself fall on the sofa and he shifted closer, massing her tense shoulders as she closed her eyes.

'and we assure, we have done our best to prepare for this sanitary crisis, and we support all of our doctors and...'

"For god's sake Michael, put off this shit!" she snapped and Michael was surprised, he reached for the remote and put the tv off.

"Sara?" Michael asked, rarely seeing the ever so composed and strong Sara swearing as if she was his brother.

She toyed with her fingers nervously. "I just can't bear to hear their nonesense anymore, we haven't got enough masks, or, or enough beds, we have to decide which patient has mild symptoms enough to be laid on a sheet on the floor of our corridors."

Michael sighed and kissed her tense temple. "I am sorry, how was your day, how are the kids ?" Sara asked immediately, his touch soothing her immensely as she leant in his embrace.

"Good, we're good and they're both asleep, go get cleaned up and changed, I'll heat you some dinner huh ?" Michael suggested and Sara nodded. "Thanks." she murmured grateful and he observed her tired legs take her upstairs.

Sara went straight to the bathroom and washed her hands and face, she looked at herself in the mirror, she truly looked like she'd came back from war, when was the last time she had plucked her brows already ?

She wiped her face and changed her scrubs for a confortable pair of pajama, composed of leggings and one of Michael's tee shirt.

She then, in the dim lights of their lamps made her way to Mike's room, brushing her boy's hair, she kissed his forehead, feeling guilty for not spending enough time with him, too busy to save the world. He was her patient and understanding son, he surely wouldn't ever complain but that made the guilt even greater.

Sara made her way to her baby daughter's room, watching her from afar sleeping in her crib with her fists adorably resting on the sides of her head. Sara smiled, her girl never failing to apease her heart, she went closer to the crib, knowing not to wake her she simply stroked one of that fist of hers with a finger and whispered a good night.

She went back downstairs and sat with her head in her hands, the day's events coming back to eat at her.

Michael came with a steaming plate of pasta, the only thing they made nowdays and a bottle of water, he set them on the dining table and looked at Sara.

"Dinner's ready." He announced with a small smile and saw Sara raise her head from her hands and wipe at her tears.

Michael's heart broke, she was crying....Sara never cried, not unless it was too hard on her.

"Hey ? you're crying ?" He asked coming to squat in front of her and holding her hands.

"I am not." she stubbornly took one of his hand and wiped at her eye.

"Sweetheart I know this situation is hard, but know that you are doing an amazing job and that we're all behind you.." Sara sniffed locking eyes with him.

"It's not that Michael. I have been on this situation for days, it's not doing my job and saving lives that is the problem." He gently stroked her knee.

"Then what is ?" he asked caringly.

"I lost a patient today, but it's not even that I mean I am a doctor I lose patients everyday. But today, I lost a patient because there werent enough respirators and I had to make a choice...I let a 54 years old man die so I could save a 31 years old woman..." Sara wept and Michael inhaled, his own heart breaking a little.

"I hate that, losing patients because of their health is another thing, but we are losing them because we are not enough, because we don't have enough means...I feel like I killed him, I mean he had a chance, and I made that decision to rob it off of him.." She sniffed and Michael resisted the urge to cradle her against him.

"Oh Sara.." He rubed her hair and felt her holding back. What could he say to make this better. He opted for holding her cheeks, gently stroking the slightly bruised area on her skin due to intensive work and wearing the same mask all day.

"You know that there are some patients that are old, some that are sick already, you can't save them all." He gently whispered.

Sara shook her head with misery.
"But he wasn't that old Michael, he was 54, a decade and some more than us !" she protested and Michael looked down, knowing there was no way to get around this, to make it okay, so he'd just have her to accept it.

"If he was sick, if he was old it would have been different, he had a chance ! I took it from him. I am a doctor and...what am I doing ?" Sara's eyes filled again and Michael felt anger against the government.

They had both voted for them, in order to block the extreme right. But their ideology was more and more disgusting to Michael's eyes and he disagreed deeply with them, these past couple of years had been a mess, with destructive reforms and rising movements of protests all over the country.

The few months that preceeded the coronavirus themselves had been pretty chaotics, Michael had to stop going to the office for 6 weeks, because things were too wild while Sara kept working but getting there was harder day by day and as a supporter of the protest, she was all the more a target on police forces list.

Michael was more of an intellectual fighter, writing, reading and eventually taking part in AGs, but due to her profession, even on that level Sara was straight in the battle field and god he loved her for fighting for her ideas but it didn't scare him any less, seeing the number of deaths and the loss of limbs or eyes that most protestants were victims of.

He remember these same doctors fighting for more means, asking them to stop destroying and rentabilizing hospitals.

Sara herself used to tell him things, on how they had thrown a patient out because he was a cost without benefits as his disease had no cure, and how three weeks later, they had taken that same patient in and purposely prolonged his stay because an operation was possible and that suddenly made the profits higher than the costs.

Sara had called it a masscarade. She had also told him, anticipating the scandal that now was happening that they had decided not to replace the stock of masks, FFP2 specially, that was slowly expiring. She had called it irresponsible.

These doctors had raised their voices, ans he still remember the red-rimmed-eyes, coughing, limping, five months pregnant
Sara coming home after an action in front of their hospital. He had cried, all night holding her hand after she assured him she had seen her doctor and that the baby was okay. But his heart hurt, who deserved that ?

Certainly not them, them who fought everyday to save lives and just became a sacrifice in the name of public debt and savings and economy, on the plate of political ideology.

And now, so many people were dying, and he knew, as Sara just said, not dying from the virus, dying from the destruction of health that had been made of their hospitals.

Michael sighed and held her hands, peeling them away from her face to alt her weeping.

"You are a great doctor Sara, and an even greater human being. Know that I am so proud of you, that Mike is so proud of you, that even Faith clap for you at 8pm..." Michael let out and Sara smiled a little, imagining her tiny daughter adorably clapping with her chubby palms to immitate her brother and everyone else.

"You're saving lives and you're doing your best and this, is not your fault, it's not on you. You're soldiers Sara, and you all are fighting as hell, not for a nation or a flag but for humanity, but if you send soldiers to fight without weapons, they're only so little they can do." Michael assured and Sara locked eyes with him nodded and sniffing, swallowing her tears.

Shd held his hands that were on her cheeks and smiled a little. "Thank you Michael, this is hard and maybe I still won't ever forgive myself for these deaths but your words...your words matter. I - thank you so much."

Michael shook his head at the futily of her thanking. "you're the best. we can get through this, together." he na?vely murmured kissing the top of her head and she chuckled wiping at the rest of her tears and he smiled at her.

"Come here." He rose and took her in his arms, she gently stroked his chest through the cotton fabric of his shirt, with all her affection, as she was used to, and she pressed a kiss against his chest.

"I'm so glad I have you, I love you." Sara admitted and Michael smiled against her hair, inhaling her familiar scent. "Me too, sweetheart." her heart melted at that combinaison of words and she just closed her eyes for a while.

"Come on now, your pasta will get cold." Michael rose and held her hand, helping her tired bones rise too.

Sara laughed a little. "Pasta again ? we've done spaguettis, macaronis, pennes, fusilis what's next ?" Michael raised the plate with one hand imitating a waiter.

"Now presenting you classic home made coquillettes." Sara laughed taking a seat at the dining table.

"They smell lovely." She smiled at Michael and he was so glad he was there for her, he couldn't imagine what it was for the doctors that got back to empty houses and let these dark thoughts drown them.

"Would have made you some cordon bleu but well, the restrictions of qurentine." He shrugged watching her eat.

"It's okay, you know I am not too keen on meat lately, its good in old great pizzas and lasagnas, but fried meat kind of disgusts me now." Michael chuckled.

"Next you're turning vegan." He teased.

"Might do so. Hhmm..Michael this sauce is lovely." Sara commented before using the fork to eat a new moutful of pasta.

"Yeah ? it's my new secret receipe, Faith seems to love it too, she always licks it from Mike's plate with her fingers." Michael smiled shaking his head.

"And he doesn't say anything ?" Sara asked surprisingly.

Mike loved his sister but he was, like his dad, a neat freak, someone touching his plate with their fingers was an abberation to him.

"Well first he was all annoyed by it, you know him, how grumpy he is since school closed, but now they seemed to have made a game out of it i don't know he just laughs histerically whenever she does it and Faith laughs too." Sara grinned laughing a little too.

"Aww, i love them." She let out.

"And we love you." Michael promised squeezing the hand of hers that she wasn't eating with.