#right away she said she might have leukemia and have to be put down
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Right so this post was getting annoyingly long with constant reblogging of updates, so I'm compiling it all here. My eighteen-year-old cat Nerys has intestinal and liver cancer. She sees an oncologist an hour away on Monday the seventeenth, but she's so old and the cancer is most likely so advanced that chemo or radiation would do just as much harm as the cancer itself, and her regular vet estimates she has about six months until we need to make the call to put her down, and I'll need money for palliative care. The oncology visit alone is two hundred and fifty dollars alone, plus gas money and we'll have to drive on a toll road.
On top of that I just got back from the vet today (October fifteenth) who confirmed that the facial swelling my eleven-year-old cat Everest has is an aggressive face tumor. I left a message with Nerys's oncologist asking if we can take Everest to the Monday appointment too because time is of the essence, but they haven't called back yet. I'm expecting the visit to also cost two hundred and fifty dollars.
I don't know how much palliative care will be, and none of the charities I've found will do end of life care, euthanasia, or cremation. Everest might have a shot at a charity grant, but the largest I found (assuming he gets it) only covers two thousand dollars, and our regular vet said radiation treatment, which is most likely what the oncologist will recommend, will be eight thousand dollars (the rest of the charities only offer a few hundred dollars, and I'm not sure if you can apply to more than one).
Our vet told me to brace for Nerys's death, but Everest still has a fighting chance if I can afford whatever the oncologist recommends. I'll make a proper GoFundMe once I know what their respective prognoses are and how much it will cost to keep Nerys comfortable and how much with more certainty it will cost to get Everest treatment. Right now I just need to get them to the oncologist appointment.
I'm on maximum disabilty SSI, and that's only eight hundred and forty-one dollars a month. (Come January it will go up to nine hundred and something, but that's still not enough). I wiped out my ABLE savings just to get Nerys her cancer diagnosis (it was previously suspected to be feline inflammatory bowel disease, in checking for that they found the cancer), and I'm in desperate need of help for both of them. My friends raised a few hundred dollars which I think is just barely enough to get them to the oncologist, after weeks of constant vet appointments, having to pick up boxes of cerenia for Nerys (we decided against the human drug zofran) and now gabapentin for Everest.
The money is being collected by my friend and roommate, who has been a big help during all this but he isn't rich. His PayPal is [email protected], and his Venmo is etybolik.
Anticipating some concerns here:
Did you vaccinate your cats against feline leukemia? Yes, they are both vaccinated against feline leukemia and FIV, and up to date on annual vaccinations and well. Plus they're both indoor cats and even when I take Everest out on a harness I keep him away from other cats, so I don't know how it would have been transmitted to them anyway.
Why do you have two cats if you can't afford them? I've had Nerys since I was twelve and Everest since I was eighteen, at both times I was obviously being supported by my parents. After I moved out I was being helped by the above friend and roommate, and once I was granted SSI I was still able to afford to care for them, even getting them Science Diet to eat, and I had a tidy little ABLE savings for vet emergencies. But this is too big for most everyone to handle unless you're rich, and the savings has been wiped out.
How much money do you have already? After today's visit, I'm not sure. I'd guess somewhere in the three hundred range, but friend and roommate is not here at the moment to ask. I myself have three hundred something in my bank account now that must last me until the end of the month, most of which is dedicated to taking lyfts to the vet when my friend is at work and picking up cat medication, or to my own doctors' offices and sometimes the hospital, as I myself am very sick.
Why is the money going to your friend? The SSA is very strict about how much money SSI recipients have in their bank account. A penny over the two thousand dollar asset limit means they could cancel my benefits all together, and that could mean my life-saving Medicaid disappears with it. Friend/roommate has pretty much been coparent to my cats for seven years now and is in fact listed as co-parent on vet records, so I think it's alright.
Didn't you notice any warning signs before it got this far? Nerys has always had a sensitive tummy, on top of that she has always had pica and would eat any non-food she could get her mouth around (plastic, dirt, fuzz, things like that) and would immediately throw it up, which would happen about once a day. The vet was never concerned about this because some cats are just puke monsters, and we'd all rather she throw up whatever inedible thing she just ate instead of choking on it. I first noticed her throwing up more almost immediately after I had briefly switched to a cheaper food, and Everest was throwing it up too, so I just assumed they didn't like the change so I switched back to Science Diet. Everest stopped throwing up but Nerys was throwing up more than her usual self so that's when I got her in with the vet over summer and that's when they started testing for IBD. Also they had their regular annual vet visit in February and everything seemed normal. Nerys had dropped a few ounces but the vet didn't think to be concerned. On the Everest front, we first noticed scabbing on the left side of his face about four weeks ago, and as they spread (around that time we got Nerys's cancer diagnosis), we took him to the vet two weeks ago (with Nerys). It wasn't until that vet visit that we noticed the right side of his face was swollen, it was so fast we didn't even notice it the day before. The vet was hoping it was a tooth infection and gave him an antibiotic that would last two weeks that would have reduced the swelling by now but it hasn't, in fact that swelling has increased significantly, leaving the remaining answer a tumor. (We don't know what was causing the scabbing. He may have been clawing on his face in discomfort, but we were confused why it was on the opposite side. The scabbing has somewhat cleared up since I put them on a just-in-case prescription flea med about a week and a half ago, so it may have been fleas or an allergic reaction to fleas.)
How do you know Everest's tumor is cancerous? We don't at this point, that's why he needs an oncology consult and we'll go from there. That said, given how fast it's growing, my regular vet is almost certain it's cancerous.
Why are you going an oncologist an hour away? Our vet gave us a list of vet oncologists in Maryland, and I literally exhausted every one of them, starting with the ones closest to Baltimore. Either their oncologists left the facility, were on vacation, couldn't see Nerys until November (at which point regular vet said there wasn't much point in going to a specialist), or flat out never called us back. Luckily one of the offices I called had their own list of other oncologists, and literally the last one on the list was the only one who could see Nerys soon, within two weeks from calling. If that hadn't worked I would have had to call out of state.
Eighteen and eleven are pretty old for cats. Are you sure the cost of care is worth it? I think the oldest living cat in record is thirty-seven, and I was hoping to get the two of them to at least thirty. I've had them both since they were kittens (Nerys was adopted from a shelter at about six months, and Everest was a tragic saga of a feral cat giving birth in my grandmother's garage and then abandoning the litter at four weeks old. Everest was the only one to survive after I took them in, and that was with the support of my parents and quality care from my then-vet in Indiana). Despite some minor health issues (Nerys has had a small heart murmur for about seven years now and developed asthma around the same time, but the murmur never bothered her and she hasn't had an asthma attack since we moved out of our moldy apartment nearly three years ago. Everest has had a neurological illness called feline hyperesthesia since he was a kitten, and they found he had a small heart murmur at his visit two weeks ago, something he didn't have at his February checkup), they (even Nerys) are still very active, playful, and happy, so I'm not giving up on them yet.
Everest looks pretty fat, are you sure this isn't weight related? Everest isn't so much fat as much as just. Big. He was by far the biggest of his litter, which is most likely why he survived whatever illness/failure to thrive it was that killed his siblings. His father (another member of the semi-feral clowder in my grandmother's backyard) was also very large, tho I think Everest now is bigger than Diamond was when he was killed by a car at age three (this is why you should keep cats indoors). It's actually really funny he's so big, because his mother couldn't have been more than seven pounds. At any rate, none of our vets over the years have ever been concerned about his weight, he's actually rather healthily proportional to his height and length. Also he's dropped like a pound and a half since February, which his vet is very concerned about
Do you have any proof of your claims? I have some vet receipts, especially from today, tho think my roommate threw most of them away in a cleaning spell. I'll probably get paperwork detailing what's to be done on Monday, at least for receipts. I could show you photos of Nerys's weight loss and Everest's face swelling, but I'd much rather pay the cat tax with these photos in their prime:
[Image Description: first image: a small tabby cat on her back and upside down on a bed with black and white striped sheets. Second image: a large black cat with his eyes nearly closed as he gets both ears scritched at the same time. He is sticking his tongue out slightly in what is called a "blep". End I.D.]
#when it rains it freaking floods#vet bills#cat cancer#Nerys#Everest#cats#this ended up not being very consider but idc#please Tumblr don't eat this post#*ended up not being concise#image described
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Potential JATP WIP. Working title is Together I Think That We Can Make It.
Basically in this fic Reggie is a foster kid who get's diagnosed with Leukemia over summer break. Victoria works in the cancer ward at the LA Children's hospital, and will eventually try and persuade Ray to take him in once he gets out of the hospital.
This is a WIP fic, and I want to wait until it's completely done to post on AO3, but I'd love some feedback so far. Also if you're interested in being a beta reader let me know!
Reggie sighed as the elevator rang, reaching the 5th floor. The doors opened and he was quickly wheeled inside the cancer ward at the Children’s Hospital Los Angeles. Reggie’s caseworker, Todd gave him a comforting smile as one of the nurses wheeled Reggie into the ward.
“It doesn’t seem so bad here,” Todd said as Nurse Victoria wheeled Reggie into his room.
The room itself still looked like a hospital room, but it wasn’t completely bare and sterile. The walls were painted a nice crisp white, and there were built in wood cabinets surrounding a big tv that helped give the room some warmth. Right under the window there was a small seating area with an arm chair and a green couch, that most likely turned into a pullout bed in case a patients family slept over.
“You can decorate however you like,” Victoria said, with a smile. “With discretion I might add. This is still a children’s ward. So please no pictures of drugs or naked girls.”
“Not even if they’re scientific,” Reggie said, bitterly.
Todd gave nudged Reggie’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.
“Watch your attitude please,” he said, slightly annoyed.
“Sorry,” Reggie mumbled. “You don’t have to worry about me. I don’t really have anything to decorate with.”
Victoria gave Reggie a sad smile, knowing his situation. She knew first hand how hard it is to witness a family member go through cancer, and she witnessed countless kids and their families fight everyday, but she never imagined how hard it would be to fight this battle as a kid with absolutely no one in your corner.
“Don’t worry about it,” she said, trying to not act upset about what Todd said to Reggie.
He was a foster kid who had just been abandoned by his last foster placement and was now getting treated for cancer. He had every right to be bitter and upset.
Todd set Reggie’s trash bag of belongings on the floor next to his bed. He then turned to Victoria and gave her a fake smile.
“Is there anything I need to sign before you get started with his treatment?” He asked, glancing down at his watch.
“No, I think we’re good. We’ve already gone over his treatment plan with you guys and we will contact you again if anything changes.”
Todd nodded his head and pulled out his phone to check his text messages. After sending a couple of texts, he put his phone away and gave Reggie a very fake smile.
“Okay, well you have my number if you need anything,” he said, before turning and walking out of the hospital.
“Too bad I don’t have a phone,” Reggie said, plopping down on his bed.
“I’m going to go grab you a hospital gown and then we’re going to get you ready to get your port,” Victoria said, trying to lighten the mood. “When was the last time you had anything to eat or drink?"
"I got a take home lunch yesterday at school, and I had some water last night around eight thirty," he said.
"You didn't eat dinner" Victoria asked kind of shocked.
Reggie just shook his head and started to remove his worn-out converse. If he was going to be stuck in this ward for the next few months while he went through chemo then he was at least going to be comfortable.
Victoria looked over the skinny teenager and realized he was probably starving, that combined with his worn-out clothes led her to think that he was possibly neglected in his last placement.
"Okay, then after we insert your port I’ll bring you anything you want from the HBO café downstairs,” she said handing him the menu that was on the dresser. "Dr. Isaac said you don't need to go on a neutropenic diet just yet, so if I were you I'd take advantage of the greasy options now."
“Thanks,” Reggie said, taking a deep breath out.
Victoria paused for a moment before reaching for the trash bag on the floor.
“We need to wash your clothes to make sure that everything is sterile,” She said, sympathetically. “Do you have anything in that bag that doesn’t need to be washed - photos, trinkets, or books maybe?
“No,” Reggie shrugged. “It’s all Goodwill clothes.”
“Okay then,” Victoria said picking up the trash bag. "Dumb question, but do you want the bag back?”
“Will you guys give me something to put my clothes in when I leave?”
“Yes, of course,” Victoria said, trying not to tear up.
"Then yeah go ahead and toss it. I've been using that bag for a about a year anyway."
Victoria picked up all of Reggie’s belongings and brought it over to laundry management. She tried her best to keep her composure until she was completely alone. She knew good and well that she was about to start several jars in the break room to raise money to not only buy Reggie a damn suitcase, but to also get him some decent clothes and decorations.
Victoria was going to be damned if this kid survived cancer and had to leave with all of his belongings inside of a plastic hospital bag.
As Victoria was off getting everything ready for Reggie to receive his port, Reggie laid back on his hospital bed and did his best to fight back his tears. All he wanted at the moment was for his two best friends to come and be with him. But it was the first day of Summer break, and Reggie didn’t have the heart to tell either of his friends that he was diagnosed with Cancer, and now he didn’t know if how he’d be able to reach out to them without a phone or tablet. Basically he was stuck watching cable all day long.
Maybe Alex was right. Maybe they shouldn’t have forged his foster parents signature so that Reggie could donate blood.
****
“I’m not doing it,” Alex, Reggie’s best friend and bandmate, said after throwing away his blood drive form.
“But you and Luke haven’t even done it,” Reggie said, looking back and forth between Alex and Luke, Reggie’s other best friend and bandmate. “You guys haven’t done it yet right?”
“No, we haven’t had sex yet,” Alex said, rolling his eyes as he playfully pushed Reggie. “But, it’s complete bullshit that we’d be banned for life the second we do. It’s homophobic.”
Reggie sighed knowing this was going to mean he’d be giving blood alone. Luke was terrified of needles and Alex was apparently now protesting the matter.
“I don’t know,” Reggie said, sadly. “I kind of wanted to know my blood type.”
Alex’s face softened. He knew Reggie didn’t know much about his genetics. His birth parents gave him up for adoption when he was a baby, and then when he was 10 his adoptive parents dissolved his adoption. The now 16-year-old has had 13 foster placements ever since.
“You should still do it then,” Alex said, nudging Reggie’s shoulder. “We probably wouldn’t be scheduled for the same class period anyway.”
“I don’t know,” Reggie said shrugging his shoulder. “I doubt Caleb would even sign the permission form.”
“Who says he has to sign it?” Luke said, smirking.
“No, no, no!” Alex said, stopping in the middle of the hallway. “Do you know how much trouble he would get into if he forged his foster dad’s signature?”
“I don’t know,” Reggie said, shrugging his shoulders. “Worst case scenario, he kicks me out. Which, might I add, will probably happen in the next month or so anyway.”
Alex sighed and shook his head.
“I’m still totally against this plan and if anyone asks, I had nothing to do with this.”
“Yeah, but out of the three of us, you have the best handwriting,” Luke pointed out.
“Please,” Reggie begged. “I may not get this chance again until I’m 18.”
“Bobby has way better handwriting then I do,” Alex said, pouting. “Just ask him tonight at band practice.”
“He has to go to his brother’s softball game tonight,” Reggie reminded him. “And the permission form is due tomorrow.”
“Stupid private school,” Luke grumbled. “It’s not fair that he get’s to go to Los Feliz and we don’t.”
“To be fair, my parents offered to send me to Los Feliz, but I wouldn’t dare to leave you idiots alone,” Alex said, smirking.
“I uh… I actually was offered a scholarship,” Reggie said, blushing. “But I won’t be able to go unless they can find a foster home closer to the school.”
“Your joking?” Alex said, shocked.
Reggie shook his head.
"It's not going to happen though," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "Los Feliz is full of rich families. They don't foster, and if they do, then they're just doing it so they can get a baby with no trauma."
"So your stuck here with me?" Luke said hopeful that his two best friends weren't leaving him behind.
"Yeah, your not getting rid us that easy," Reggie said with a smile. He then turned to Alex and gave him his best puppy dog eyes. "Please? For a kid who doesn't know where he came from?"
“Fine,” Alex grumbled. “I’m going to kill both of you if we get caught though.”
“Dude relax,” Reggie said, smiling. “We’re not going to get caught.”
****
Reggie felt unusually tired the day of the blood drive, and he couldn’t figure out why especially since nothing in his routine had changed in the past couple of days. He did go to bed a little later than he usually did since his foster father Caleb caught him coming in after curfew. He spent the better half of the night listening to his foster father yell and berate him before locking him in his bedroom. It was nothing he hadn’t dealt with before, so he couldn’t understand why he was so exhausted.
“You look tired,” Alex said, leaning on the locker beside Reggie’s.
“Caleb was in a big mood last night,” Reggie said, yawning. “I’m probably getting moved after we finish exams.”
“I’m sorry,” Alex said, sympathetically. “Maybe your next placement will be better?”
Reggie slammed his locker shut and shrugged his shoulders. He had been moved so much lately that it didn’t really bother him.
“I doubt it,” he said, walking to class. “No one voluntarily takes in teenagers, especially ones who have been rehomed.”
Alex bit his lip, he wanted to ask his parents if they could take in Reggie, but he knew Reggie was openly bi and he didn’t want to subject Reggie to their homophobia. It was already bad enough hiding his own relationship with his parents, he didn’t want to force Reggie to do the same if he found someone he really liked.
As the two got closer to their first period pre-calculus class, Alex perked up and immediately started to reach in his book bag.
“I almost forgot,” Alex said, pulling out a breakfast sandwich. “My mom said that you should never give blood on an empty stomach.”
“You told your mom I was giving blood?” Reggie asked.
“Well… not exactly,” Alex said, blushing. “My dad gave blood for our church’s blood drive last month and my mom made a big scene about him eating a big breakfast that morning.”
“You do know I get free breakfast and lunch right?” Reggie asked, furrowing his brows.
“Yeah, but school food sucks,” Alex said, shivering at the thought. “I honestly don’t know how you and Luke eat it everyday.”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen Luke eat worse,” Reggie said, giggling. “Last weekend I saw him put mashed potatoes on a waffle. It was disgusting.”
“Yeah, that checks out,” Alex agreed. “I still don’t know how you do it though.”
Reggie just shrugged his shoulders and took a bite out of the breakfast sandwich Alex gave him.
“I don’t know… I guess when the alternative is not eating you kind of just get over the taste.”
Alex looked at Reggie with sad eyes as the two walked into class and took a seat at their desks. Reggie quickly finished his sandwich and started to open his worn-out notebook.
****
Reggie was scheduled to give blood right at the beginning of 3rd period, which means he was missing music with Alex and Luke. Luke wished Reggie good luck at the end of chemistry, and Reggie made Luke promise to grab a review packet for him for their final next week. He didn’t have access to private music lessons like Luke or Alex, so music class was the only chance he had to learn theory.
When Reggie arrived in the gym for the blood drive there weren’t as many students as he imagined. Most of the students were volunteering for the blood drive for their nursing classes. He assumed that more students would be willing to donate, but the gym was practically empty, meaning that they will probably stop doing blood drives next year.
Once he was at the front of the line to check in, one of the nursing students took his permission slip, that Alex did a pretty good job forging, and started to take his vitals. Reggie was a bit worried that he wouldn’t pass the weight requirement, since he hadn’t been eating as much as he normally does. His weight did drop, but he was still above the required weight and height for donating blood so he was let through.
After his passing his initial check up, Reggie was finally brought over to the area where students were waiting to get poked. Reggie waited five minutes and was then escorted to a chair.
His nurse, Gloria, gave him a big smile as she started looking for veins. Once she was sure she found a good vein she told Reggie to relax his arm and turn his head so he didn’t have to look at the needle going into his arm. But Reggie didn’t. Instead, Reggie just stared at his arm as the needle went in.
“Wow, you didn’t flinch at all,” Gloria said as she taped Reggie up.
“It’s not the worst pain I’ve been in,” he said with a smirk.
Gloria gave him a sad smile and handed him a stress ball. Reggie started to squeeze the ball allowing his blood to come out quicker.
“Okay, I’ll be back to check on you in a bit,” Gloria said, taking her gloves off. “Don’t go anywhere.”
“I’ll try not too,” Reggie said, sarcastically.
Reggie gently squeezed the stress ball, but after a few minutes of squeezing his hands started tingling, his limbs started to feel heavy, and he started to feel really tired. He blinked for a bit and did his absolute best to keep his eyes open and stay awake.
“Come on,” he said, focusing on his blinking. “You can fall asleep when you get home. Don’t cause a problem.”
Reggie’s eyes continued to flutter for a few moments longer before he couldn’t feel anything and everything went completely black.
****
Beep, beep, beep, beep.
Reggie groggily opened his eyes to the steady sound of a heart rate monitor letting everyone know that he was still alive.
He looked around the room and saw dozens of nurses and doctors walking around the ER triage center as they assessed different patients. He looked around the room and furrowed his brows when he saw pictures of kittens and clowns on the wall. The sound of a toddler crying only solidified his hypothesis. He was in the ER at the Children's Hospital of Los Angeles. Reggie groaned and started looking for a way to quietly remove the wires that were hooked up to him. Butt after one accidental bad move, the monitors went off and an ER Nurse came rushing in. She looked over him for a minute before giving him a comforting smile.
“It’s good to have you back in the land of the living,” the nurse said as he started to check Reggie’s vitals. “How are you feeling?”
“I feel fine,” Reggie said, rubbing his eyes. “What happened?”
“You passed out at a blood drive,” he said, seriously. “Do you know what happened? Did you just forget to eat maybe?”
Reggie shook his head, he had devoured that breakfast sandwich the moment Alex gave it to him, and he snagged a blueberry muffin from the cafeteria. He should have been fine.
“Okay, well we’re testing your blood right now just to be safe,” he said, gently. “Your school gave us your dad’s number but he didn’t pick up. Is there anyone else we can call?”
Reggie sighed as he bit his lip. He knew his social worker Todd was going to have to find out about him being in the hospital. He just didn’t want to hear the lecture that would surely come from it.
“818-555-0149… that’s my case worker’s number. His name is Todd,” Reggie said, biting his lip.
“Oh,” the nurse said, quietly. “I’ll um… I’ll call him right now.”
Reggie nodded his head as he curled up further in his hospital bed. Nurses and doctors all around him were ignoring him as they all went about their jobs.
As he sat there alone, he started to get flashbacks to when he was 10 and he was abandoned in this very ER after his appendix burst. He thought his parents left to go fill out paperwork for his surgery, but after a few hours, they never came back. The hospital called their names several times over the intercom, but nobody ever came.
That was the day Reggie found out that he wasn't biologically related to his parents. He was adopted, and they didn't want him anymore.
#reggie jatp#julie and the phantoms#julie and the phantoms fanfic#fanfic#reggie peters fanfic#luke patterson#luke jatp#alex mercer#alex jatp#tia victoria#my wips#alex julie and the phantoms#reggie julie and the phantoms#luke julie and the phantoms#child abuse mention#caleb is a jerk#reggie peters has bad parents#abuse mention#ray molina#julie julie and the phantoms#julie jatp#jatp fanfic#julie molina#reggie peters
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Sicktember 28: Chronic Illness
R. DeSoto/C. Dwyer/T. Dwyer
Thank you Xav!
Cap looked at each of his men in turn. “Fellas, I’m sorry to have to tell you all this. We’re… um…” He stopped and shuffled the paperwork he was holding. “Well, we’re losing Tom Dwyer from 51’s.”
Mike frowned. He knew the Dwyer brothers pretty well, and this was the first he’d heard about Tom leaving. “What’s up with him, Cap?”
Cap grimaced. He hated giving bad news. “Captain Frasier called me last night to fill me in. Tom had bloodwork done about a week ago, nothing major… just routine. Well, it turns out he has leukemia.”
“Leukemia?!” John’s eyes narrowed. He knew Tom had been losing weight, but he thought it was just because he’d been spending a lot of time at the gym.
“Dios mio,” Marco breathed.
“Damn.” Roy knew what leukemia was like. His little sister had died of it when she was just a kid.
They had no more time to discuss the issue as the klaxons sounded and the station was called out to a house fire. By the time they had put the fire out and mopped up, they were exhausted and wanted nothing more than to just get back to the station. John and Roy were both at Rampart with their patients.
John and Roy met Charlie Dwyer in the E.R. lobby. He was headed up to visit his brother. It was odd to see the normally cheerful Charlie looking so down, but they couldn’t blame him a bit.
“Hey, Charlie,” Roy asked after they’d talked for a moment. “Mind if we head up with you?”
“I don’t mind, but don’t be surprised if Tom kicks you out. He’s taking this awfully hard.”
“Yeah. I get it.” Roy had never told his colleagues about Megan. Sometimes the hurt of losing her was still raw, even all these years later. “How are you doing with it?”
“It’s tough. He’s my little brother, and I can’t do much to help him right now. If they can stabilize him with chemo and radiation, which we hope will wipe out all the cancer cells, then we’re gonna go for a bone marrow transplant… from me. He’s mad because it’ll put me out of commission at work for six months, but I don’t care. He’s basically being an ass about the whole thing.”
Roy gave a wistful smile. “Yeah, guess you can’t blame him. It’s a rotten place to be.” He swallowed hard. “Listen, Charlie. If you ever need to talk… I’m here for you. I’ve been through this from your side of things.”
Charlie didn’t ask for details, but he nodded. “Thanks. I may take you up on that sometime soon. Come on, let’s go see that stubborn brat of a brother of mine.”
They stepped off the elevator a couple minutes later and turned down the hall. Tom’s room was at the end of the corridor. John poked his head in the door first. “Hi, Tom. We… uh… thought we’d drop in.”
Tom waved a hand in greeting, one with an IV in it. There was a matching one in his other arm. “Come on in boys. I see I’m famous already.” His tone was slightly bitter.
He was as pale as the sheets on his bed and much thinner than even John had remembered. Dark circles accentuated his tired blue eyes and his blond hair was somewhat disheveled. He looked, in short, as sick as he really was.
John knew all the right things to say to patients he was treating, but seeing his friend in that bed and knowing what leukemia could mean for him left him tongue-tied.
“This really stinks,” Roy said as he slid into the chair by the bed.
“You nailed it in one, Roy.” Tom smiled slightly. “Even if I let my big brother do the transplant, and even if it works, I’m still out of the fire service. Period. So yeah. It stinks.”
“Did ya know they did the first successful bone marrow transplant in 1956?” Roy leaned back in the chair. He hoped Dispatch wouldn’t call them away.
“Yeah, the oncologist told me all about it. Really tryin’ to make his case for it. Told him I’d think about it.”
“I wish it was a possibility a couple years earlier.” Roy glanced down at his hands. “If it was, I might still have my sister Megan around.”
John filed that bit of information away to talk to Roy about later. He didn’t want to interrupt the current conversation, but he definitely needed to talk to his partner about that issue.
As for Tom, he looked sympathetically at Roy. “I’m sorry about your sister.”
“Thanks. Don’t make me have to say the same to Charlie, got it? Well… not the sister part, but you know what I mean.”
Tom smirked. “Yeah, I do know what you mean.” He sighed and looked over at Charlie. “You’re positive they’ll take you back after the six months… no problem?”
Charlie nodded. “I have to recertify, but that will be no big deal. Yeah, they’ll take me back.”
Tom closed his eyes, deep in thought. Finally, he looked at Roy. “Seems a shame to waste a gift your sister never got to have. Okay. I’ll cooperate. Let’s do this thing.”
The atmosphere in the room lightened to the point Charlie felt almost dizzy. Convincing his mercurial brother couldn’t be this easy, could it? But judging by the look on Tom’s face, apparently, it could. Tom had a long road ahead of him, but step by step, they would get there, and Charlie would always be grateful to Roy for sharing Megan’s story, and quite possibly saving Tom’s life.
The End
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My 12 year old dog was diagnosed with heart worms 2 years ago, but I couldn’t go through with the surgery because it’s way too much money. The vet told me he would pretty much die with the worms without surgery. Anyways, I was doing the every 6 month shots to help lessen the heart worms, but I also started having him take vitamins and eat certain foods at home that provide extra antioxidants and what not. And he just had his checkup today and to mine and my vets surprise, he’s heart worm free!!!!! I was trying so hard to hold back my tears because I really thought he would end up passing away 2 years ago. I’m so happy for him 😭😭😭💚💚💚💖💖💖
#myfeelings#he was just getting all his shots renewed and they decided to look at the heartworms#like I like my vet because she's really really good at her job#BUT she can be very cruel#she tends to always mention the worse scenario first#I remember one time my cat was sick#right away she said she might have leukemia and have to be put down#I was like ??? we haven't run the test yet so stfu and until the results come back#then we can discuss what is wrong with her#ANYWAYS IM HAPPY FOR MY BO!!!#now I just gotta work with his arthritis
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Black Wedding [Chapter Two] Silver Tongue [Albert Wesker]
Aria didn't want to go home once she got into her car a little after seven this morning. She was too scared to be alone and far too tired to stay awake, cowering beneath her blankets in an empty home as she worried about being mauled to death in her sleep.
Even though none of the murders had occurred indoors, and despite Albert assuring her that she'd be fine nestled away in their home under lock and key, she was still too scared to go home. Aria didn't want to let her guard down, not when the murders occurred close to home. That sort of ignorance horrified her the most.
How could anyone sleep soundly knowing a person in the same community was dead? Murdered, no less.
Aria frowned and gripped the steering wheel.
Poor Mr. Webster.
Her heart went out to her.
His death shook her. Dr. Hersh called it at a quarter till five this morning, though he passed on before the EMTs arrived at his home on Wallace Street. His carotid artery had a puncture; his spine broken, causing him to bleed out in minutes during the alleged onslaught.
His wife passed years ago from leukemia, so Aria had to leave a voice message with his son, who lived in Washington, according to his address. In a soothing voice too unreal for a woman who just witnessed a horrific murder, Aria informed him to contact the Hospital Director once he heard it. Still, she doubted that Mr. Webster's son would get the message until much later, given the time zone.
An EMT that brought him in reported that a neighbor from across the street saw Mr. Webster get attacked by a black dog near the edge of the forest; several large chunks were missing from his upper body, unlike any canine attack Aria had ever heard of before. What was he doing near the woods in the middle of the night? And what drove the animal to attack him?
Perhaps the beast was starving. Why else would it eat him?
Aria shivered in fear.
She tore from the parking lot in her Audi and turned onto Mission Street, heading towards Central down to Ennerdale, where the police department sat; the prominent structure before 1969 was an art museum bought out by the RPD.
Aria transferred to Raccoon General in 1992 after its construction, coming from Stone Ville, a town northwest of the city, but she knew its history, despite how expansive Raccoon had grown during her time from home; the city continued to grow even now thanks to Umbrella Pharmaceuticals, and the company's investments.
Parking her car, she strode from the underground garage to the department's entrance, slowing her rushed pace once she entered the reception area to the right of the main hall.
She noticed a woman with dark hair that she had never seen before occupying the reception desk. As she approached, the woman glanced up from her computer in boredom.
“What can I help you with, ma'am?”
Aria cleared her throat. “I came to see Albert Wesker.”
The woman typed something into her computer and hummed, then tossed a laminated pass onto the counter; Aria hooked it onto the pocket of her scrub top.
“The S.T.A.R.S. office is up the stairs at the far end of the hall,” she explained in a dead tone. “Be sure to sign in before you go.”
Aria did as she instructed, then stormed down the hall, turning the corner near the entrance to the west office. As she neared the stairs, she came across Barry Burton at the vending machine, recognizing his hideous red vest.
“Isn't it too early for a break?”
Barry turned in shock, staring at her. Once he recognized who Aira was, he narrowed his eyes.
“I'm surprised that Wesker let you off the leash today,” he teased.
Aria snorted and rolled her eyes. Barry was uneasy about her marriage to Albert, mainly because she married him a year after meeting him. She hadn't even had a honeymoon yet, but that didn't matter; she loved Albert.
He was quiet and somewhat arrogant when prompted, but he never treated Aria like she was inferior to him. Albert kept her together.
Barry didn't understand. Not to mention he wanted to set her up with Chris – his good friend – despite the eleven-year age gap.
“Behave,” Aria teased. “I don't want to tell Kathy that you've been eating junk food when you're not supposed to.”
Barry grunted. “I said nothing.”
She thought so. Her older sister was a force to be reckoned with, and he knew it.
“What are you doing here, Aria?”
She frowned, recalling the events of this morning.
“I want to see Albert is all,” she explained.
Barry sighed, bending with a grunt to pick his candy bar up from the exit slot.
“You might want to wait,” he suggested. “Irons is up there bitching to him about something. He sent the entire unit out.”
Aria puckered a brow. “Is everything alright?”
It was none of her business, but she wondered if the meeting with Irons had anything to do with the murder on Wallace Street. But why involve the S.T.A.R.S. unit? The murders were not a product of antiterrorism or urban crime and were more suited towards the cases the Patrol Division officers oversaw.
Perhaps she was overthinking it.
“As far as I know,” Barry answered back.
Aria hoped so. She said her farewells, deciding to wait near the S.T.A.R.S office, but as she began to climb the stairs, she had an idea and peeked over the railing to call out to Barry down below.
“Do you think Kathy and the girls would like to visit the zoo Friday?”
Barry hummed. “I don't see why not. I'll ask them tonight.”
Aria thanked him and continued up the stairs to the second floor. She rested on the bench next to the office door and waited for Irons to leave.
Once he appeared, storming out into the hall as he uttered beneath his breath Aria stood and greeted him.
“It's good to see you again,” she mentioned with a fake smile.
Irons grinned, looking her over. “The pleasure is mine. How are things over at the hospital?”
“Fine,” she answered back.
He reached forward and gently touched her shoulder. “Ethan called me already. I heard about the man who died this morning, but I don't want you to fret, Aria. I'll take care of it.”
“I appreciate that, sir. Thank you,” she stated.
Albert must have known as well.
Easing over, Aria grabbed the knob and opened the office door.
“Try and get some sleep, Aria. You look tired,” Irons mentioned.
She nodded and slid inside, closing the door behind her.
His kindness was innocent, but at times it freaked her out.
Aria sighed and strolled further into the room. Albert had his own office immediately to the left after coming into the primary office; she entered once she knocked on the door.
He puckered a brow.
“Aria, what are you doing here?”
He seemed to be in an irritated mood.
“I came to see you,” she answered back. “But I can leave if it's not a good time.”
Aria was referring to what Barry had said; about Irons grilling him.
Albert motioned her in; she looked desperate.
Aria shut the door behind her and strutted towards the desk, coming around the side of it.
“I guess you heard,” she mentioned. “Mr. Webster – the widower on Wallace Street – was brought in this morning.”
Albert hummed. “Brad mentioned that it was an animal attack.”
“Another one near our street,” Aria confirmed.
He puckered a brow, watching as she sat on the desktop. Her tired eyes stared down at him; Albert understood.
“Are you too scared to go home alone?”
She frowned. “I hate how you said that.”
Like she could do nothing without him.
Aria sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. She had a terrible headache brewing.
“That wasn't fair,” she mentioned. “I'm just tired; forgive me.”
Albert opened his desk drawer and tossed her a bottle of Diphenhydramine.
“These will put me in a coma,” Aria joked.
He hummed. “Whatever makes you sleep easier.”
“You being home will make me sleep,” she countered.
That reminded her.
“Are you working this weekend?”
Albert nodded and stood up. “Something came up.”
Of course, something came up.
“But I'm home Sunday,” he added. “And we can catch up.”
Aria grinned. At least she had one day alone with him.
“Please tell me what you want for Sunday, and I'll cook for you,” she offered.
Albert grinned and motioned towards his seat. “I'll think of something. In the meantime, rest your eyes. I'll wake you before I leave.”
Her face heated up. “Thank you.”
How did he take her mind from one place to the next? It amazed her.
Aria hopped from the desk and embraced him. Her cheek rested against his chest.
“I'd be a mess without you,” she said with a laugh.
Albert snorted and buried his fingers into her coarse blond hair, aware that she wasn't joking.
Aria was a feeble pet, after all.
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'Family support's just so wholesome, i can't! Your writing's great 💙 i have a request (tho it's more than fine if you're not taking them/ don't feel like doing this one): bau!reader losing a loved one, not telling anyone and throwing themselves into work but masking it up pretty well so no one notices how broken they are until after a though case reader falls asleep on the jet and has a nightmare, reid puts 2 & 2 together and comforts them.. idk just feeling a bit moody today, hope u r fine 😊
Hold you in my arms
A/N: hey! I'm glad you enjoyed family support! Im glad you also enjoy my writing thank you so much! im sorry I took forever to write this one up! Hopefully its what you wanted. I did kinda rush the case so we could have Spencer and reader content, so sorry if it is rushed and bad. hope you enjoy this one!
TW: family member going through cancer.
things to know: the italics in the beginning are going through the death of the brother, and near the end is the dream. regular font is what happened or is happening how ever you want to put it.
You were a really private person, for the most part, but with your team, they knew mostly everything about you. Which knowing them for years was okay with you. As long as they didn’t know any more details you were fine with that. Your family meant everything to you and you wanted them safe. You never wanted to be the reason they were tortured or even killed.
However some things that caused death weren't your fault completely. Your brother was getting near to death. He’s been fighting leukemia since he was 15 and recently it's been getting worse. You stayed with him the days you didn’t work or didn’t get called in. Lucky the last few days you had with him you only had paperwork to finish.
The team noticed how fast you would complete them and how detailed and well written they were so they thought nothing of it. Spencer though he noticed despair and worry, but he didn’t say anything since you two were only friends and if you had something to tell him you would reach out.
“Is she okay?” Prentiss asked as the team shrugged. “Yeah Spence is she alright seems like something is up?” Rossi said as Spencer shrugged not knowing what was wrong with his best friend and “secret” crush. “She hasn’t said anything or talked to me, she’ll probably talk when she’s ready” he said as that left the team with that and spending their own free time the way they do.
You would walk into the hospital with two thoughts in your mind. “He’s alright he’s okay, he’s fighting” or “it’s too late you work too much and now he’s gone” and when you would enter the room relief was hit and you saw him eating or watching tv.
You two would talk and spend time with one another, but he would beg you to go back to work and not worry. “Matt, no I'm staying until they call alright? You said as he held your hand. “Please go back to work I’m fine, I know you’ll make it in time once my monitor goes crazy” he said as you glared at him. “Don’t say that, I’m staying.” You said as he gave you the look your mother gave you. “Ugh fine I’ll go, but you need to call me if anything happens.
Like that you would go back to work and finish even more paperwork. Like nothing was wrong. You were sad inside but you didn’t show. You were strong, well you had to be, your brother was told he was gonna live for 2 months and he just passed his 1 month, this scared you. You couldn’t lose him now. He was your other half considering how young he was. Why do good people die young and terribly?
When that day came, you were called by your mom. You were home so you quickly left your home not even worrying if you left something on, your main focus was your brother. Seeing him alive when you go there.
Once you got to the hospital you arrived and saw them resuscitate him. They gave you a look that said, he wasn’t gonna make it and you needed to say goodbye. Your parents were sitting in chairs while you held your brother in your arms like the first time you met him. He was just your little baby brother and you knew he was gonna do great things.
Memories of you and him passed through your brain like one of those movies. The good and the bad. As the monitor went flat he was gone, your baby brother was gone. Tears just flushed through your eyes not caring if some got onto him. All you could do was hug him and let him rest the way he wanted to. In your arms.
“It’s okay, it’s time for you to rest.” You said as you kissed his head and held on for a while longer.
That was the last time you saw him. You currently got back from the funeral, and you changed so the team didn’t notice anything. As you walked over to your desk you got a new picture frame out with a picture of you and your brother when you were 10 and he was about 3. You smiled at the way your brother smiled.
“Y/n” someone said. “Y/n? You alright?” Spencer said as you looked at him. “Yeah Spence sorry I was just thinking. What’s up?” You asked as he smiled. “Well we have a case, so let’s go?” He said as you smiled back and headed to the conference room.
The case introduced was about an unsub killing young 20 year old males. Most of them were either in college or working for their families. They were good people but they were just killed for no reason. Which made you think of Matt. What if….no stop it.
As you debriefed the case you were headed to New Orleans. As you got your go bag you were met by spencer who was waiting for you per usual, spencer noticed something stopped you. “y/n? You okay?” he asked as he startled you and you blinked many times not knowing he was there. “Yeah im okay, uh just thinking.” you said as he hummed. “Alright..oh is that a new picture?” he asked as he grabbed the new frame with your picture. “Actually it's an old one, i just thought i could have another picture you know.” you said as he nodded. “Yeah, i do, is this your brother?” he asked as you nodded. “Yeah i was 10 and he was about 3 years old in that photo, it was the first day of school for the both of us, he was going to preschool and i was going into the fourth grade” you said as he noticed your sincere smile. “Is he doing okay?” he asked as your heart stopped, but you knew you had to lie, you didn't want to bother him. “He's fine, going into his fourth year of college,” you said as he nodded, but he read through your lie, you thought your heart stopped internally, but your whole body shifted and he knew something happened. you then were interrupted by a hotch. “Guys we should get going, seems like they need us earlier than i thought.” he said as you nodded heading over to the jet.
As you read through the file you were still thinking about Matt, you knew he wanted you to work instead of grieving for him, and you were gonna do that until it was gonna finally break you. You just kept thinking about getting privacy to let the tears to come out.
As you landed, you had to talk to the family of the recent victim. As you got there you saw them break down, not only did you lose someone, they did too. As if your instincts were nagging at you, you walked in to talk to the family, understanding completely what they were going through.
After talking to the parents, they told you Jerry was sick. He had been going through some type of chemotherapy and he didn't go to his last one days before getting kidnapped. That was weird, maybe the unsub knew who they were. But you didn't really know how to back that up with so you called garcia.
“Hello my beautiful princess, how may i serve you today?” she asked as you smiled. “God pen, never change,” you said as she hummed. “Not in any world my love.” she said as you looked down at your file. “Hey can you see if any of our victims was going through some type of therapy, like chemo?” you asked as she typed away and you waited.
Maybe this was some type of coincidence, like god was giving you a chance to save someone, after losing someone.
“Woah, uhh, our first victim, David, had thyroid cancer, and our other two victim, had leukemia. How does this connect?” she asked as you sighed. “Our latest victim had some type of cancer and was going through, chemotherapy.” you said as she sighed. “God why would someone kill someone who is going through a hard time?” she said as you sighed as well. “I don't know love, that's what I'm gonna figure out.” you said as she hung up leaving you to tell the team. You walked over to where everyone was standing and they seemed to pay attention before you began to talk.
“So all of our victims went through some type of sickness that involved them to get chemotherapy, what if our unsub is going through that and by killing them they are taking their place by getting some chemotherapy.” you said as they all shuffled looking through.
“That could explain why they didn't have certain belongings with them. And could explain why some didn't have their id.” Morgan said as you nodded. “Alright well call garcia to widen her search, good job y/n” hotch said as you nodded. “And this person might be working near any of the hospitals, our victims went to.” you said as they all nodded and you were getting ready to deliver the profile.
While this happened you got a call from your mother. You quickly picked it up leaving the room. “I'm sorry I have to take this.” you said as hotch nodded and you went into a hallway.
“Hey mom? Everything okay?” you asked as she hummed “i am, its just i really hate to bother you, but i can afford the funeral i only paid half of it... And i don't wanna ask you for money-” she said, stumbling over her words as you cut her off. “Mom hey, dont worry about that, let me give you my credit card information all right? Tell them to send me the bill to my apartment. You don't have to worry about it alright?” you said as she sighed and sobbed. “Okay, im sorry...its just i saved up money for college but it wasn't enough and i know you do-” she said as you cut her off again. “Mom don't worry about it. I had some money saved up for him too in case he needed something. It's fine mom.” you said as you kept reassuring her. You then met the team again as they had a lead.
“Hey sorry it was my mom.” you said as they found a guy who lost his family because his wife had left him for his best friend, he was then told he had lung cancer and didn't have insurance or enough money to pay for his treatment. He was recently seen at the same hospital all the victims were at, and that meant he was getting ready for his next victim. He also worked as a janitor at the hospitals, which explained how he got the information from them.
You and Reid were sent to his house as the rest of the team was sent to the hospital. As you got there you noticed the lights were on. “You check the front while i check the back.” he said as you nodded. You had a police officer behind you as you cleared the house. Everything seemed clear, but the odd things was why were the lights on. He probably left in a rush.
You both checked everything as found and he had schedules of the patients. He also worked in many hospitals which explained how he met the other two victims. Reid called hotch and gave him the address to the hospital next on the list. It was most likely he was just living here because you didn't find any bodies in the house, but you still searched outside his house.
You were walking around the back as you noticed humps in the ground...oh no. “reid! I think i've got bodies” you said as reid came along with a dog and they were sniffing and barking. “Yeah he definitely killed them here. Morgan and prentiss just found a shack a couple miles away from here and all their clothes and stuff are. Where is he though?” he said as you nodded.
You ended up finding him in the hospital reid found next on the list. They ended up getting the guy and taking him to the station. He was in the interrogation room and hotch let you take him. Reid was with you and you just stared at the unsub.
“You ready?” he asked as you nodded. He walked over to the door entering the room as the unsub looked at both of you as you sat down. “So uh mark? Right?” reid said as the unsub nodded. “Yeah, can you tell me why I'm here?” he said as you looked at Reid and he let you take the lead. “Well mark, your property is filled with missing people who were filled missing, you know, because their family cares about them. Why did you kill them?” you asked as he scoffed. “Please my family cares about me.” he said as you glared at him.
“Really mark, they do? Then why aren't they here? We know your wife left you for your best friend and he matched all the victims appearances. You killed innocent boys who were just starting their life. You're just mad that their lives were settled and not yours.” you said as the unsub felt uncomfortable that you knew all that.
“Mark, we know you killed them because you were eventually gonna kill your own friend.” reid said as he just shook his head as if he was going crazy.
You two were just throwing the truth at him as he exploded.
“I had to do it! They were gonna ruin someone else’s life too! I couldn't let them go through that.” he said as you too got your confession, not that you needed it.
“Look mark, we didn't need this but we got what we need and i hope you get what you deserve.” you said as he yelled, “you don't even know what they felt. Why do you care so much!” he said as you stopped in your tracks and turned around. “You know what i do, i know what it's like to lose someone, they were already suffering so much, and you ruined it more for them. They had more time, but you didn't care. If you really care, family is important, and losing one is even worse, especially from sickness. Knowing that i couldn't do anything hurts. You're the one who doesn't know. You only know what it felt like to kill them knowing you were gonna live and they were gonna die.” you said leaving as reid and everyone behind that mirror just heard what you said.
As you got back on the jet, you were so tired you fell asleep right away. You were just so tired you didn't know what to do.
You were running through the unsubs home and noticed a body that looked familiar. It was matt. You quickly ran over to him and saw his face. He was already dead. You then were tied up seeing the unsub shoot him over and over. “NO! Matt, no! You had more time! Why!” you said.
“You had more time….why did you kill him…” you mumbled as you were moving around a lot and crying. Reid noticed and he quickly put his book down as he shook you up. “y/n...hey it's just a dream...y/n'' he said as you woke up with tears falling out of your eyes. “Im sorry, sorry.” you said as you wiped your own tears away. You sat there in complete silence. You were comfortable so it wasn't awkward.
You then saw the way Reid looked at you, which was the look that told you he knew what was wrong. You sighed in defeat as you asked him. “How do you know?” you asked as he half smiled. “Well today when you mentioned Matt, your mood changed, and I knew something was wrong, and you also wanted to comfort the victims family. You seemed like you knew what they were going through. And when you told us about the victims being sick, you seemed really sad for them more than a regular person would be and when you talked about losing family, I knew something was up.” he said as you nodded. “So you profiled me huh?” you said as he nodded and gave you a sincere smile
He was waiting, but he spoke first. “y/n i'm here for you, just know that, even if you feel alone i'm here for you always.” he said as you nodded.
He was about to get up as you spoke. “Matt died...two days ago...and the funeral was today, and i'm not okay.” you said as your tears fell out. Spencer held you as he wiped your tears away. “I'm so sorry, y/n.” he said as you shook your head. “spence its fine.” you said as he nodded, but he knew it wasn't fine. “Its just...when he died, i held him in my hands. I was there when it happened.” you said as he felt very sorry that you had to go through that.
“Im so sorry. Here come here.” he said as he opened his arms so he could hold you. You were thankful for Spencer, he was always there for you and you were glad he was there for you for this. It made being able to grieve much easier.
#spencer reid#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#Criminal Minds#criminal minds imagine#dr. spencer reid
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medical update and stuff. trigger warnings in tags
I’m extremely frustrated. it’s been 15 months of frustration lol so so so sick of doctors, so sick of living through this. I am tired and getting no relief
you might remember, but I was given a ‘possible’ IIH diagnosis in October. we’ve been treating it like it is IIH, which means everything has always been real etc etc and the treatment is weight loss. started my ‘better eating habits’ on nov 1st. then I immediately had the thing with my chemo pill packing on a ton of excess fluid, worsening my head to the point of ER and calling my neurosurgeon, getting taken off my chemo pill, and it wasn’t until mid-december that I actually started to see any fucking weight loss cause of that
my pcp told me 5lbs a month. so I’ve been right on track with that despite wishing I could lose 10 a month but that’d be starving myself so lol I’ve lost 15lbs
but now something exciting is happening again!! I am retaining fluid and I have NO idea why. which means my head is now as bad as it was last summer when everything was at its worse. constant all day long, pills barely doing anything for me, vision issues, pain issues. it feels like something broke in the base of my skull/neck because I get the scariest sensations there. it’s horrible. no human being should have to live this way and I do it every single day, numerous times a day
anyway I had to go to the ER last thursday A G A I N because a doctor sent me. my pupils were noticeably two different sizes. I’d noticed three days beforehand and convinced myself I was imagining it cause it wasn’t a huge difference. finally took a picture and no, def not the same size and my eye looked like it was going inward? anyway, called my pcp, they had me come in that day, he saw it from a foot and a half away, sat back, and said I need you to go to the ER, you need your brain looked at. so again, I’ve been seeing this for three days while my head has been 10/10 extreme due to pressure in it. I get there and have to wait a while but less than two hours later when they finally looked at me? gone. pupils back to normal. doctor talking down to me like I was just an anxious mess and not that another dr sent me cause he saw what I did lol and his notes were in my chart. so, wasted visit and they put a covid patient 15ft from me and intubated them, so get to remember what that sounds like forever and ever (covid patients are supposed to be separated from other ER patients). now I’m doing a 10 day quarantine while I am so severely disabled I cannot bend over to take care of my cats food/litter/etc and it’s why my mom half lives with me but she can’t right now :) getting a covid test in three hours and it’s been eight days with nothing but head issues + fluid retention so hoping it’s negative
the fluid retention I had before was a side effect of my chemo pill. I don’t know why this is happening. I should be 17lbs down now and I’ve actually gained weight despite being on the same diet that lost me the 15. I’m back to 13lbs down. this makes me feel like I might be carrying 4lbs of water weight. let me break this down because yesterday a PA told me my symptoms were too ‘ambiguous’ to say if fluid retention is happening or not
- fluid retention from the chemo pill was ALL felt in my stomach. it was distended and bloated like I’d eaten at a buffet every single day
- head got massively worse, enough to go to the er, doc and I agreed the fluid retention causing me to fluctuate between 15lbs was making the IIH worse
- not urinating often despite drinking a normal amount
- got on a diuretic, seven days later the weight was gone, head was better, started losing weight
this is what I’m experiencing now
- fluid retention that is causing my stomach to feel very bloated and look/feel distended
- head has gotten massively worse, enough to send me to the ER
- should be losing weight, have actually gained weight on a low fat, low calorie diet
- the only difference this time is that I am dehydrating myself (yes I know, bad, but it is literally saving my life) because I experimented one day with half my water intake and my head was miles better. still experiencing a terrible head episode once or twice a day but it’s not 10/10 constantly
- and the second difference is despite not drinking enough water, I am actually urinating more often and it’s a lot more clear than it should be, the color I expect when I’m hydrating well
I consider this ^^^^^ to be a good case of why I think I have fluid retention but being told my symptoms were ‘ambiguous’ and throwing me to my neurosurgeon instead is HNNNNG (esp because diuretics are known to help IIH symptoms FOR THIS EXACT REASON)
I have VERY recently had my sugars checked a few times, glucose is normal. VERY recently had an abdominal CT, also normal. it’s not diabetes, it’s not something happening in my abdomen. they hear abdomen vs legs swelling and think it’s GI because doctors never fucking listen and actively put their patients in danger but o h w e l l, I guess
anyway as it’s been for 15 months, I am stuck between a rock and a hard place. I go this way and experience agony, I go that way and experience agony
I need extra hydration for weight loss, leukemia, being obese. I need less hydration because it worsens IIH to the point of 10/10 I want to die (which makes me heavily and actively suicidal. doctors see I take anti-depressants and assume idk I’m being dramatic but no, it’s really this fucking bad. I would rather die that moment than keep feeling what’s happening in my head)
there’s like no middle ground and my body and these doctors are making it impossible to figure this shit out. my mom had to come over at 1:45 AM last night (hasn’t had to rush here since april 2020 cause that’s just how bad it is) because I lost my balance twice and was lucky I had something to catch onto or I would’ve been on the ground (neuro symptoms which could be IIH, could be chiari, could be stroke) and my speech got SUPER bad almost immediately. scared the hell out of me, I have never in my life lost balance that badly before
things are going downhill and I would’ve thought losing weight they’d start improving but when has my body ever made this easy lol
meeting a new neurologist on monday who works in the same building with my neurosurgeon. I’ve been avoiding them cause every single one of them told me I was just anxious despite specific physical movements causing an episode lmao but hopefully this guy is better and he has access to all of my neurosurgeon’s notes and stuff. I can’t keep dehydrating myself but at the same time I can’t let my head get so bad I make a farewell note for my mom, you know? it’s just been really bad and I don’t know how to get people to listen to me. I have a 99% diagnosis and they still don’t take me as seriously as they should. this has ruined my quality of life and they would have you believe that doctors take that seriously but they do not
neurosurgeon wants me to see an ophthalmologist again cause of my vision issues and to check for specific things that relate to IIH. he wants another MRI done in early may cause it’s been a year since my last one by then (actually a month later, my last one was in april, but I’m curious if the neurologist will order one sooner) to check to see if anything has worsened
so yeah living in absolute hell again and don’t know if I can just get a simple one week diuretic to get this fluid out of my body. what the FUCK else can it be when I’ve experienced this exact thing twice!! before. it happened to a much, much lesser degree the first time I got on the chemo pill. but the same shit :)
hanging on by the thinnest thread guys and 15 months of feeling like I’m going to die almost every single day through that has destroyed my psyche. destroyed me as a person. I don’t know what to do anymore
sorry this is all a lot of Bad™ but it’s been a lot of bad for 15 months. if I can keep going, I hope one day to be able to give an update of improvement
love you all
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Searching for the Facts
Fandom: Me and Earl and the Dying Girl, Jon Bernthal characters
Characters: Mr. McCarthy, Elizabeth McCarthy (OFC)
Pairing: Mr. (Joey) McCarthy x Elizabeth McCarthy (OFC)
Summary: After Greg poses the question about cancer, Mr. McCarthy heads home to his wife but can't shake the news. He knows she would have the answers.
Word Count: 1,888
Rating: SFW
Warning: Mentions of cancer
AN: This idea popped into my head as soon as the scene where Greg asks Mr. McCarthy about Leukemia played out. Joey was also the first name that came to mind for the character since we don't get a first name. Not sure why. Enjoy!
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(gif credit)
The gentle hum of jazz was the first sound that greeted him as he walked through the door. It brought a smile to his face as he toed off his boots and settled his keys onto the hook set by the door. A few new books lay scattered on the ottoman, along with a notebook and various colored pens. He would have taken a moment to peek over what the work of the day had been if he hadn't been as eager to see his wife.
While they had been together for some time, it was only recently that they married and there still was that new sense of pride in being able to call her his wife. The thought was enough to put a smile on his face. A couple of his co-workers had asked about the ring that they had spied and it had generated some talk around the school. It had been an amusing addition to the day. No one had expected him to settle down. He kept quiet about his personal life normally so any sort of change would come as a surprise to any of them. No one needed to know every little detail. Besides, the longer that no one asked, the longer he could just keep her to himself. Not that he had an issue showing off the relationship. Joey had never really been shy about much. No, it was more of a desire to spend what free time they had together unencumbered, enjoying the company of the other soul that understood. Perhaps it was selfish but he couldn't bring himself to care.
Joey found himself leaning against the door frame leading to the kitchen. The sight before him warmed his heart and reminded him of just why he loved coming home. Liz was swaying softly, singing just under her breath to the steady rhythm coming from the small speaker in the corner. The kitchen smelled wonderful and he realized just what she was making while enjoying the soft moments to herself. One of his favorites, cutting noodles while the soup had to be simmering in the pot on the stove. He was a lucky man and coming home to this just reminded him of that. He cherished each of these small moments.
Coming up behind her, his hands found her hips as he pressed a kiss to the back of her head. A deep breath in and he found the soothing scent of lavender still clinging to her. He had never found any sort of scent on a woman soothing before Elizabeth had entered his life. Now he couldn't help but relax when the familiar smell carried in the air.
"Evening sweetheart." He heard the soft gasp that left her, knowing that he had surprised her, before laughing as she slapped at him blindly. The waving motion barely tapped his side and he had to suppress a laugh.
"Joey McCarthy! What have I told you about sneaking up on me?" She whined playfully but never stopped working on dinner. He loved that even rattled, she rarely lost her composure. It was one of the first things that he had noticed about her when they met.
"I couldn't help myself. You looked so peaceful. Love it when you sing and dance like that."
"And you had to go and ruin it." He kissed the back of her head again, swaying to the music with her. He didn't have to see her cheeks to know that she was blushing. For as fired up as he could be in school, these soft moments were far more common in the household. Not that he didn't get excited and child-like in his enthusiasm, but he was a bit more mellow here, with her.
"Nah. Just added to it and that's a fact." He teased. "What made you decide on Khao Soi tonight?" He rested his chin on her shoulder and watched as she finished cutting the noodles.
"Thought it might be a nice surprise. Didn't know what your day was going to be like and I had to take a break."
"I saw the notebook." Forced to step back so she had room to continue cooking, he moved to grab himself a water. "Did you get stuck?" It was rare that she would abandon her own research in favor of cooking, no matter what. It must have meant that she had to leave it. Now that he was looking at her, he could see the frays on the well worn long sleeve shirt of his that she had taken. Apparently it was comfortable and comforting while she worked but the sleeves told him how frustrated she had been when or working.
"Hit a snag." He could hear the frown in her voice. "The data didn't add up so I had to backtrack a bit and dove into some similar projects to see what was found and what problems they may have run into. It's just not making sense. So either I'm missing something I'm not seeing or the experiment itself was flawed."
"I'm sure you'll get it figured out one way or another." He wasn't even going to attempt to understand what it was that she had been working on. He was skilled in a lot of areas and knowledgeable in many but when it came to the hard research she performed, he was lost. He tried to look it over and understand, always willing to expand his knowledge. Even if it was over his head.
"It just feels like if something is wrong, all of those people wasted time that they won't get back. Things they could have done with loved ones, bucket list things. Their time is limited and they were generous enough to grant it to try to help others. And if there's nothing to show for it…" She paused and Joey could see just how affected by it she was. He stepped forward again and turned her around so they could look at one another.
"It isn't a waste of time and they wouldn't feel that way. They knew what they were getting into and wanted to do it. Just like you said, to help others. If something is wrong, then you know it for next time. It's all a step in the right direction. Data to be compiled and figured out, giving you the opportunity to just improve on it." She didn't look at him right away but found herself sighing and nodded. He tilted her chin up and pressed a kiss to her forehead, cheek, and finally lips. "If there is anyone who knows how to handle this, it's you sweetheart." Finally a small smile came from her and he felt relieved. She took this all to heart, and being a cancer researcher, he couldn't see her being anything but empathetic and passionate about it. It was part of what had drawn him to her in the first place.
She pressed a hand over his heart, eyes dropping for just a moment to where it lay, before they raised again.
"What would I do without you?" Now would be the time for teasing.
"Be locked away in that awful one bedroom apartment you had, crouched over your research, and probably not eating the way that you should." She rolled her eyes but was clearly more at ease than she had been before. "And you know it's true. Can't deny it."
"Yeah yeah. As if you are any better," she grumbled playfully before giving him a little push back. "Let me finish dinner." He allowed the push and backed up with a smile. She looked adorable right now. He had left her in a better mood than when he had found her so it was mission accomplished.
"I'm going to go shower. I'll be out soon." Letting her finish cooking in peace seemed like a good thing now that he had cheered her up a bit. She could enjoy what she was doing rather than focus on what she hadn't been able to figure out. He fully understood the need to take a break from the research if things were not going the desired way. He had been there himself plenty of times.
The dinner was a quiet affair, though it often was. They took the time to enjoy the food and each other's company after the long days that they each faced. There wasn't a need to fill the silence. It was soothing enough to be sitting across from one another, sharing occasional glances.
It was only after he helped her clean up and they were settled on the couch did he bring what was on his mind up. The new documentary that he wanted to watch would be on in a few minutes so he had a little bit of time before he ended up throwing their normal evening routine off.
"Had a student ask about leukemia today…" Immediately, her head snapped. So quick he actually was worried about her neck. His hand came up off of her shoulder to rub at her neck for a second before dropping back down.
"Why?" Liz knew the answer but needed the confirmation. She didn't like to assume but most high schoolers only asked questions about cancer for a small handful of reasons. All of them were personal. Joey was quiet for a moment.
"Another one was diagnosed with it. One of his friends. He doesn't have too many so I think it's weighing on him more than he realizes. Didn't know much about it and was looking for some answers." He sighed and held her a little closer. "Kid spends lunch in my office daily. He isn't great socially. I think the friendship with the girl is good but I'm worried about the outcome if things don't go well." Liz shifted to face him a little more, rubbing his chest absently.
"I'm sure I have a few articles and a book or two that would be reachable enough to a teenager if you want to offer them. It might help ease his mind, at least understand what is happening a little better. Create some reasonable expectations of what this is going to do to her. In case things don't turn out well. Better to be prepared even if it isn't easy." He had been hoping that was how she would answer. Any sort of help that he could get for Greg, he would. He had seen how the kid was closed in on himself. The fact that he was even asking showed that he cared. Even if he liked to pretend that he didn't.
"That would be perfect. I think Greg will actually take the time to read them. This means more to him than he's letting on."
"It's not an easy concept for anyone to understand, let alone a teenager. If he needs to talk…" She left it open ended, not wanting to seem too forward.
"I'll let you know. I don't see him being the sort that would have any desire to though. He has a hard enough time talking to his peers." Joey sighed and gave her another squeeze. "Thank you." She leaned up and kissed his cheek.
"Nothing to thank me for." The documentary started and the two quieted down, settling in for a routine night between them.
#my writing#my fic#my oc#Mr. McCarthy#Mr. McCarthy x OC#Elizabeth McCarthy#tw cancer#cancer tw#mentions only#fluff#Jon Bernthal characters
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Could you write a one shot in Bronwyn’s POV for directly after the bomb went off? And how she’d be when Nate gets out of surgery? Up until the events of the wedding?
Yes, more angst let’s do it. (I am in such a weird mood good grief) (Now would be a good time to request more angsty stuff since clearly I’m in the mood to write sad stuff) Also, sorry this is so long, but there are notes at the end because of course I need to make it longer. Enjoy!
Nate and I are walking hand in hand behind the restaurant when we hear something fly over our heads and land a few feet away.
“The fuck was that?” Nate asks, interrupting himself. He had been talking about just how much of a dork my little sister Maeve is around Luis, who apparently is her boyfriend now. I have no clue how that happened.
A voice rings out in the night, sounding terrified: “Nate, run! This is Maeve. That was a backpack with a bomb inside, from someone who’s been threatening Eli. You have to run toward the restaurant, now!”
We both freeze and look at each other. “MAEVE?” I call back.
“Bronwyn?”
Nate squeezes my hand and tugs me forward. A new voice can be heard, and I’m even more terrified when I hear it’s Knox. He’s never sounded so scared before. “This isn’t a joke, you guys! Run!”
For some strange reason, it’s Knox, not Maeve, that spurs us forward, and we start sprinting. I can see Knox with his arm around Maeve from a distance, and he’s pulling her back. She has her arm outstretched towards me, and I can see the fear in her eyes. As I’m running, I’m struck with the sudden realization that if there was anything I could do make that fear in her amber eyes, the ones I love so much, disappear, I would. Maeve has grown up too fast. Finally, Maeve does what she should and turns and runs to the restaurant. I hear Knox call to the people on the deck, and they run into the restaurant.
For one crazy moment, I think we’re safe, and I look at Nate. He’s looking down at me, and I feel I could sink, float, fly in those blue eyes. When he dives at me, for one crazy second I think he’s going to kiss me.
When I come to, I can hear someone groaning next to me, and when I put my palms on the ground I’m startled to find that the ground is slick with blood. It can’t possibly be coming from me, nothing hurts other than my head. I look to my right, in the direction of the groaning, and I almost scream when I see Nate laying on his back, covered in blood. “Nate! Oh my god Nate!”
“Bronwyn,” he groans.
“Oh my God, Nate.” I can feel tears sliding down my cheeks. I crawl over to him, and I bend down to kiss him, my hands on either side of his face.
“My arm.”
I look at his arm and nearly scream again. It’s torn up pretty badly, and his leather jacket, the one he’s had for years, is beyond repair. I grip his uninjured hand and squeeze it tightly. I know, beyond a doubt, that this is my fault. If I hadn’t stopped, he wouldn’t have had to dive for me.
I push his dark hair away from his forehead. “It’s okay. You’ll be okay.” I say it over and over again, like a question, answer, and promise all in one. I don’t know how long I’m sitting here, pushing back his hair. I don’t look away until I hear my sister calling my name. I call hers back, and she comes flying towards us, her dark hair, so identical to mine, streaming behind her. She’s covered in blood and her favorite jeans are ripped at the knees. She crashes to the ground next to me. I don’t look at her. I can’t. If I wasn’t so busy making sure she was okay, then this never would have happened. We would of been okay. This thought makes me cry harder. I clasp Nate’s hand in both of mine. Maeve strokes his hair back. We sit like this for a few minutes before the EMTs arrive. The sight of them makes me cry harder and I barely register that they’re lifting Nate onto a stretcher, and I have no idea how I’m still holding his hand.
“Are you two family?” an EMT asks me.
I shake my head between the sobs. “No. His only family is his mother.” I don’t even mention his dad.
“Okay, can you answer some basic questions for me?”
I nod.
“Okay, that’s good honey. Just take some deep breaths.” I’m following the stretcher now, and Nate’s hand is still in mine. “Okay, can you give me his full name please?”
“Nathaniel Macauley.”
“Does he have a middle name?”
I glance at Nate, who’s looking at me. He shakes his head slightly. “No.”
“Okay. Date of birth?”
“March nineteenth, two thousand and one.”
“Age?”
“Nineteen.”
“Okay. Any prevalent medical history? Does he take any medications?”
I glance at Nate again. His eyes are closed. We’ve reached the back of the ambulance, and before they lift him in, I can see him shake his head. “No.”
“Okay, will you ride with him?”
“Yes.”
“Sounds good. I’m going to stay here and make sure everyone else is okay. Is anyone injured that you know of?”
I’m about to say no when I remember the blood on Maeve’s arm. “Yes. My little sister. Her name is Maeve Rojas, she’s wearing black jeans and a grey Yale hoodie. Her right arm is bleeding.”
“Okay, thank you. Please try to contact Nathaniel’s mother on the ride over, okay?”
“Okay.”
Nate’s mom beat us to the hospital. As did my parents. All three of them are standing together in the waiting room. Mrs. Macauley looks incredibly plain next to my parents, who were dressed up for their charity event. My parents pull me into a hug the minute they see me, and I’m surprised when I realize I’m shaking. My father takes off his suit jacket and wraps it around me. The smell of aftershave and peppermint surrounds me, and I’m instantly calmed. If there’s ever one thing Maeve and I agree on, it’s that safety is synonymous with our father.
A doctor approaches us. “Nathaniel's arm has shrapnel in it,” she tells us, “We have to take him in for surgery right away. If you four want to wait in his room with him while they prep him, you can.”
“Yes. Please,” my mother answers for all of us. She puts and arm around Mrs. Macauley, and I exchange startled looks with my dad. My mother has never liked Nate, or his mother. But I guess when someone might be dying, prejudices don’t matter.
I watch them walk away with the doctor as the sound of pounding feet approach, and someone charges into me wrapping me in a hug. It’s Addy. She’s crying on my shoulder, and I momentarily wonder if my father is cringing at the sight of his suit jacket being cried on. Addy pulls away, and I can see who else she’s with: Cooper, Kris, Ashton, Knox, and Eli. Panic surges through me when I can’t see Maeve. I grip Addy’s shoulders tightly.
“Addy. Maeve. Where is Maeve?”
My dad turns to me so quickly I’m worried he’ll get whiplash. “Maeve was there?”
“Yeah. We were the ones who found the bomb,” Knox says.
Oh boy. Knox clearly does not know what to say and what not to say to avoid a parental freak out. My dad stares at him, and based on the look on his face, he’s way passed freaking out. The last time he looked like that was when Maeve was diagnosed with Leukemia for the first time. He opens his mouth to say something when my mom comes running down the hall, her red curls coming out of their bun. She barrels into my dad. “Nate said Maeve-” She looks like she’s going to start crying.
“Mrs. Rojas, she’s okay,” Cooper says. We all turn to him. It’s clear we all forgot he was there, along with everyone else who just arrived. “She’s with Luis. They’re driving over right now.”
“Who?” My mother asks.
“Luis?” My dad adds, sounding like his usual overprotective self.
But I sag with relief. If Maeve is with Luis then she’ll be okay. “Maeve’s boyfriend.” Addy supplies. My parents adore Addy with all their hearts, but clearly their love is being tested right now. Don’t shoot the messenger is not a saying they live by.
“Boyfriend,” Mom says faintly.
“BOYFRIEND?” My dad echos.
“For like five minutes. He’s nice. You’ll like him.” Addy is unaffected by my parents. Good for her, but the mention of Nate makes me impatient.
“Mom, forget that. How’s Nate?”
My mom grips my arm. “He’s going into surgery in four minutes. He’s asking for you.”
“WELL THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU START WITH THAT?”
I don’t wait for a response, I just take off running in the direction my mother came from. “ROOM TEN!” She calls after me.
I barge into room ten, and I see Nate laying on a bed, there are nurses around him, and his mother is sitting on a chair. Nate reaches his hand towards mine, and I take it.
“You’ll be okay,” I tell him as a few nurses talk to each other. He doesn’t respond. He just closes his eyes, his face turned towards me. Part of me wants him to open his eyes. If is the last time I see him, I want to look into those deep blue eyes I love so much. My parents come into the room a few minutes later, right as Nate’s being taken into the operating room. My dad wraps his arms around me as my mom hugs Mrs. Macauley, who has started crying.
“He will be alright, Ellen. Don’t worry.”
“How can you know?”
“Because he’s a fighter.”
Those simple words bring tears to my eyes. Maybe my mother has finally come around to Nate. Mrs. Macauley hugs Mom harder. “How can people just sit and wait around for their kids? How can you protect them?”
Mom pulls away and looks at Mrs. Macauley. “I watched my daughter battle cancer for seven years Ellen, and every moment killed me. What type of mother am I if I can’t protect my child? But the best thing you can do is just be there. You’ve done great, Ellen.”
I’m bawling my eyes out now on Dad’s perfectly pressed shirt, but I don’t care, and neither does he. There isn’t a dry eye in the room.
Mrs. Macauley recovers first. “I should tell my husband.”
“I’ll tell him. I can drive over. You should stay here.” My dad sounds surprised that he’s offering this, but I guess tonight’s all about forgiving and changing.
Mrs. Macauley nods. “Okay.”
“You’ve got a good kid Ellen,” Mom says as Dad heads out.
“And you’ve got two.”
The waiting room is filled with nearly everyone I love, and my mother and I both make a beeline to Maeve, who’s fast asleep on Luis’s lap. Luis looks up at my mom and smiles.
“Hi, you must be Mrs. Rojas.”
“And you must be Luis.” My mother does not sound nearly as friendly as Luis. I exchange amused glances with Addy.
“What she means, Luis, is thank you for taking care of Maevey.” I say, putting my hands on my mom’s shoulders.
“No I don’t,” Mom mumbles.
“Yes you do,” Mrs. Macauley says, leading my mother to a chair. I pause only for a moment to kiss the top of Maeve’s head and thank Luis again before following them.
Three hours later, Nate’s still in surgery and the news people still keep showing up. The explosion has made headlines, and all reporters keep asking for the boy and girl who saved the day. The boy is curled up on the ground with his back against Eli’s legs, staring into space. The girl is slowly awakening though. She finally sits up after another few minutes and she seems really disoriented.
“Luis?” she asks.
“Yes Maeve?”
“Where-”
“The hospital. Don’t you remember?” Addy asks, placing her hand on Maeve’s knee. Maeve shakes herself a little and sits up straighter.
“Where’s Bronwyn?” she asks in response. Kris points behind her. Maeve turns, sees me, and practically leaps off of Luis’s lap in her haste to get to me. I stand and hug her with all my might, and I think she might be crying. I know I am. I pull away and shake her.
“Oh my God are you trying to scare us?” I practically shout, shaking her again.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Maeve says, her eyes shining with tears.
“Oh really! You stalked a potentially dangerous person, you followed him to God knows where, you crawled into a tiny space, you opened an odd looking bag, you threw a bomb in an arboretum, and then YOU RAN TOWARDS IT!”
“Don’t forget the hiding leukemia thing,” Mom adds sleepily. She and Mrs. Macauley are leaning against each other, and they’re both nearly asleep. I think that’s the weirdest part of my night.
“Oh Mom, we’re over that,” Maeve says. She seems unaffected by my words. “And anyway, no one’s told me about Nate!”
“He’s in surgery. There was shrapnel in his arm.” I say simply.
Maeve blanches. “Is he okay?” There’s real fear on her face, and I’m suddenly sorry I yelled at her. She must feel in over her head right now.
“He should be. There’s no nerve damage, which is good.”
“Oh thank God,” says Maeve right as a nurse walks towards us. Everyone in the room turns to look at her.
“Mrs. Macauley?” she asks.
Mrs. Macauley half stands. “Yes?”
“Your son is out of surgery. He’s stable, and family is allowed to visit, however, I must warn you that he’s a little goofy with the pain medicine.”
Everyone in the room lets out a collective sigh of relief as Mrs. Macauley follows the nurse. I turn back to Maeve, and she’s grinning at me.
“Coffee,” we both say unanimously, and for some reason, we’re laughing so hard we can hardly breathe. There’s something so wonderful, I think, about laughing with someone you love so much when everything is falling apart around you.
Nate is released the next morning, and his mom and I are there to drive him home.
“Is the wedding still on?” is the first thing he asks when he sees us. He hugs his mom awkwardly with one arm. The sight of the sling around his shoulder would make me cry if I wasn’t fresh out of tears. Maeve had told me all about the texting game last night, and watching my sister break down had killed me. After she told me, she locked herself in her room and was on the phone with someone until three in the morning. I think it was Luis. I hope it was, my sister deserves a guy like Luis. Even if he does have a questionable dating history, but Nate told me yesterday that he was planning on having a little chat with Luis about that on Maevey’s behalf.
“Yes, but if you’re too tired, you don’t have to go,” Mrs. Macauley says as she unlocks her car and helps Nate into the front seat. I climb into the back.
“No, I want to go,” Nate insists.
Mrs. Macauley glances at me in the rear view mirror, and I shrug. “Okay Nate. Sure. I need to check in on your father, so I’m not sure who’s going to help you change out of that shirt.” That shirt is the same one from last night. It’s covered in blood.
“I will,” I say. “I’ve already gotten dressed. And Dad’s going to pick up Luis on the way there, he’s Maeve’s date. I’ll just call him and ask him to pick us up too.” My parents had a real conversation with Luis last night while Addy, Kris, Cooper, Maeve, and I went to get coffee. Turns out they love him as much as Maeve does, which is good. But I can’t help feeling a little annoyed that it took five minutes for my parents to fall in love with Luis, and five months for my parents to even acknowledge Nate.
“Well, if that’s alright with you Nate.”
“Of course it is, Mom.”
“Bronwyn I can not get a button down on with this sling. I can’t even get a regular shirt on.”
I’m in Nate’s room, looking through his closet. My parents will be here in ten minutes or so. “Okay, okay. What about this?” I pull a pale green shirt out of the closet.
“Fine.”
I turn and let Nate change, but turn again when he mutters, “stuck”. I laugh and help him de-tangle himself, but somehow I manage to make it worse.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” I say, and then suddenly I’m crying again. Through the tears, I manage to fix his shirt, and he grabs me by the waist and pulls me into his lap. He doesn’t say anything as I sob onto his shoulder and grip his shirt like a lifeline. His good arm is strong around my back.
“Shh, Bronwyn, it’s okay. I’m okay.”
“I know, but I was just so scared.”
“I know, honey.” He kisses the top of my head, and for some silly reason, I think of Luis and Maeve. “And worst of all, I blamed Maeve.”
“I know you did.”
I pull back and look at him.
“You did?”
“I did. I mean, I guessed that you blamed her. You wouldn’t look at her last night.”
“If I hadn’t stopped then-”
Nate puts a finger on my lips. “I am okay. As is Maeve. And you’re okay too. That is all that matters, okay? All that matters is everyone is safe and it’s a beautiful day and two people we love very much are getting married. Okay?”
“Okay.” I pause and laugh. “Nate, your shirt is soaked. Want a new one?”
“Bronwyn Rojas, I am not changing my shirt again,” Nate says with mock severity. We both start giggling, and we still are when Dad’s car pulls up and we drive to the wedding.
Okay, time for some notes!
I have no idea when Nate’s birthday really is, but the month was mentioned in the first book. I did some math (ew) to figure out the year, and I chose a random date.
The whole Bronwyn/Maeve tension was made up as well, but it kind of felt right? understandable? for Bronwyn to be so worried about her sister that she gets a little angry.
There was no mention of Mrs. Rojas and Mrs. Macauley supporting each other, but I just couldn’t resist
Also, there was no Rojas Parents/Luis interaction before the wedding, but as mentioned in the previous note, I just couldn’t resist.
Okay, I think that’s it, I hope you liked it!
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Lost In Your Light: Peter Parker x Reader (Part 6)
Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5
[ my masterlist ] word count: 4, 319
CHAPTER 06: TOUCH
The memories of last night lingered in Y/N's mind as she shuffled through the school hallway.
It seemed that whenever she saw Spider-Man, it took days to get him out of her brain. And now, she knew what he really looked like. His boyish, yet captivating face flashed in images whenever she closed her eyes. It was a face she couldn't seem to forget.
Y/N sighed hopelessly, closing her locker and slumping against it. She couldn't even focus on the workload ahead. All she wanted to do was be with him.
Peter was his name. So common, yet so meaningful and charming to her. If every man that was named Peter was as striking and heroic as him, there would be no competition. He was so selfless and gentle.
Shaking her head, Y/N blushed. She knew it wasn’t healthy to be fantasizing over Peter like this… Something about him was just so comforting.
The girl glanced at her phone. 7:25am, there was still five minutes until class officially started. How was she going to get through a whole day of school?
Just when her thoughts were going to drift away to her heroic Spider-Man, a voice calling her name cut through the white noise.
She lifted her head to find Kenzie, the girl she met in the bathroom. Y/N had almost forgotten about the injured girl she had been drawn to almost a week ago.
"Y/N it is, right?" She asked nervously, stopping at her side and avoiding the foot traffic.
"That's me." Y/N smiled, though she could tell something was wrong.
"Can we talk?" Her eyes darted back and forth with caution. Y/N's stomach churned.
"Of course."
The two of them headed inside the nearest bathroom. Y/N looked around and made sure nobody was occupying a stall before turning to Kenzie.
Kenzie swallowed hard. Her dark skin seemed a little paler than the day they met.
"I really don't know how to say this, Y/N." She paused. "But I have Leukemia."
Y/N snapped her head over, expression itched with disbelief. "Please tell me you're kidding." She rushed the words out. There was no way, there was no fucking way.
"I'm not." Kenzie's lip quivered. The pure shock of it all seemed to slap her in the face. Each time she muttered her fatal disease, she felt a little more hopeless.
But, the curly haired girl refused to cry in school. "I went to the doctor and they confirmed it. You were right. And because you warned me of the signs, they were able to catch it at an early stage. I have a good chance of surviving this."
Y/N could see the conflict in her eyes. This girl was scared, she was hurt. She had just been diagnosed with a terminal illness that had a terrifying mortality rate.
Kenzie stood in front of Y/N. She was begging for help, begging for answers. Cancer was no laughing matter. It was deadly—and it was too strong. It rendered Y/N powerless.
"O-Oh my god, Kenzie. I'm so, so sorry." Y/N's heart broke for the girl she barely knew. "I mean—I'm glad I could help. But I wish I was wrong." Her eyes closed in anguish. "I wish I was wrong, more than anything."
"You don't need to be sorry. If anything, I should be grateful. Hell, I barely know you and you helped me in more ways than I could have imagined." Kenzie's voice was soft.
Y/N's lips upturned, halfway between a smile, and halfway between a frown. She didn't know what else to say. She was confused. It seemed her powers were stronger than she had anticipated, yet not strong enough in that way she desperately wanted them to be. If the girl was strong enough to detect undetectable illnesses, could she heal them as well?
There was a long stretch of silence as Y/N stared at herself in the mirror, her senses tingling. Being around Kenzie was like being around an open fuse.
Y/N could possibly help her. All signs were leading to it, but she couldn't expose her secret. The conflicted girl wasn't ready for the world to know about her abilities.
Y/N lifted her head and through the mirror's reflection, her eyes drifted back to Kenzie. There were distinct bags forming around her eyes. She needed help.
Kenzie breathed in, face twisting with uncertainty. Y/N was prepared to answer questions, but not the one that came out of her mouth. "How did you know? Please don't give me a bullshit answer."
Y/N was taken back by her sudden accusation. "I-I don't know what you mean."
"There's something off about you. Not in a bad way, you're just different. You know more than you're letting on." Kenzie said thoughtful, her words not intending to be an insult.
"Kenzie..." Y/N paused, eyes drifting to the door. She didn't know what to say, she couldn't even think. Her powers had to remain a secret.
"You have some sort of ability, right?" She seemed to be speaking whatever came to mind.
Y/N's expression wavered slightly. "No. I don't, it was just a lucky guess. Like I told you, my father is a doctor."
"You didn't guess. You knew, before anyone else did."
The girl crossed her arms, desperate to deflect anymore questions that she knew Kenzie wanted to ask. Who wouldn’t? Y/N knew she would if she was in Kenzie’s positions. "Even so, I couldn't tell you."
Please let it go. Please, for your sake and for mine. How could Y/N convey such a thing without coming outright to say it?
Kenzie chewed on her lip. "I was assuming."
"I'm sorry. I don't even know myself."
"It's okay. But you realize that being different... with whatever you have, isn't that far fetched. With everything that's going on..."
Y/N managed to smile. "Like the aliens?"
"Yeah. Like the aliens."
The two girls stood side by side in the bathroom. The silence wasn't awkward, it was comfortable. There was mutual respect between them, even if Y/N couldn't tell her the truth.
Y/N opened her mouth to say something, but her words were cut short by the bell.
"I guess I'll see you around then." Kenzie waved, slinging her backpack on her shoulder.
"Let me know if I can help with anything." Y/N said, following her out of the bathroom.
"No need. You've done all that you can do—"
I don't know about that. Y/N thought.
"—Whatever you can do, I would advise helping others like me. We need more good people like you in this world. People who are willing to help others just out of the goodness of their own heart."
Y/N was quiet as she watched Kenzie leave her side, disappearing into the crowd before she could even say goodbye.
✭✦✭✦
Y/N walked down the sidewalk with her hands in her pockets.
The school day had ended, and truthfully, it had been a blur. The girl was still anxious from her friend's revelation. Y/N's prediction had been right. She was able to sense an illness with just one touch. She was able to feel it.
It scared her. It scared her so much that all she could think about was a way to get rid of it.
And every time she did, her hands ached with pain. Y/N didn't even want to look at them.
That was why they were shoved deep in her pockets.
She kept her gaze forward, refusing to look at anyone she passed. Y/N was anxious to get home, anxious to be alone and isolated so she could come up with some sort of plan.
The girl pulled out her phone, side stepping a pile of melting snow. She was a few blocks away, and needed to know if her father was going to be home.
Y/N: > Dad, are you at our humble abode?
Papa: > Yes, daughter of mine. I will be until dark. Can't wait to see you.
His simple and sweet text caused a smile to spread across her face. Perhaps she could wait a few hours to stress over her powers. Perhaps she needed to spend some time with her father.
Decompressing sounded like the right thing to do.
Y/N hurried home as fast as she could, which was surprisingly under 10 minutes.
"Dad, I'm home!" She shouted and slammed the front door shut. Her backpack and shoes were laid at the foot of the staircase.
"Afternoon, honey." He called from the living room. She rounded the corner and found him in the same spot and same chair, reading the newspaper and drinking a cup of coffee. Some things never needed to change.
"How was school?" He asked almost immediately, not taking his eyes off the current article he was invested in.
"Fine." Y/N said, even though it wasn't. Fine was what people said for courtesy purposes.
He nodded, excepting she would give him a one word answer. There was a brief moment of silence as Y/N filled up a glass of water to drink.
She joined her father's side. He put the newspaper down to give her his full attention. That was one thing she appreciated about him. He may have been gone most of the time, but when she needed him, he was there.
His eyebrows furrowed as he studied her intently, "You look stressed kiddo, did anything happen?" Her father asked, evidently concerned. Thomas L/N knew his daughter well enough to realize when she was upset.
Y/N's gaze faltered. She wished more than anything that she could tell him. He deserved to know. He was her father, the one person in the world that loved her.
But not yet. So she made up an excuse, a list that seemed to keep growing and growing.
"Just some tests, dad. The usual, nothing for you to worry about."
"Since you have those stellar grades." He chuckled, seeming to buy it. Her lie wasn't so far-fetched since she was a student. "There's no reason you should be so stressed, you'll do great."
"I guess so. It's just..." Y/N trailed off, trying to muster up an excuse to have him start talking about her mother. Her mother might be the key to discovering her abilities. Even if it was not, it was a good place to start.
But, the thought of her mother broke her heart. It had been years since Y/N had felt her touch.
"Can you talk about Mom?" She blurted.
The mention of her stiffened his posture. "Is that why you're upset?"
"I'm starting to forget her, dad." Her first utterance was the truth. She couldn't remember what her mother's smile looked like, or what her hug felt like. Y/N knew her features were similar to the woman who gave birth to her, but even so, she wanted to know which ones. Just gazing at their pictures stirred up regret and sadness.
"A-And I have an English project where we need to compare our parents to the parents in the book."
"Oh." His forehead wrinkled with confusion. Y/N felt culpable, yet again.
"What do you want to know?" He took a sip of his coffee.
"I want to know about her family. Why don't we talk to them anymore? Where are they?"
"And you're trying to tell me this is part of your English project?" He could see right through her lies. Yet he didn’t seem annoyed or irritated, instead amusement wrinkled the corners of his eyes.
Y/N faltered, looking sheepish. "Y-Yes?" She grinned.
"You can ask me anything about your mother Y/N, it makes sense you'd be curious about her. If you're afraid of hurting me, it's okay. I’ve had a lot of time to cope with it.”
She smiled.
"Shoot." He encouraged. "I'll answer to the best of my ability."
To corroborate her previous statement, Y/N pulled out her phone to pretend she was actually taking down notes for her school project. "I want to brush up on the basics. What was her favorite meal to make?"
"Frikadeller." He chuckled at the memory. "Those meatballs you used to hork down. I'm surprised you even tasted them."
"They were good." Y/N grinned. "Why was it her favorite?"
"Because it was yours."
Y/N felt tears stinging her eyes. They were only talking about happy memories, but any memory of her mother was followed by the fact that she would never see her again.
"Do we still have the recipe?" Her throat was tight.
"Of course. I still have everything."
The girl nodded, wondering it was even possible to learn to cook as well as her mother had. Even if she couldn't, she needed to carry on something. Perhaps learning about her was a way of moving on, even if it hurt.
Y/N decided to change the subject.
"What about grandma... What was her name?" She wracked her brain for some sort of memory. "I feel like we haven't seen any of mom's side of the family."
"Her name is Ragnild. She lives in Denmark, that's why we never see her."
"Oh..."
"I have her number. I can give it to you if you're interested. I just didn't think you were."
"I guess I'm just feeling nostalgic. I wanna know where my roots are."
"Well" Mr. L/N chuckled. "You know where half of you is from."
"I know, I know." She smiled. "It was just odd, only hearing about your family. Was mom not close with hers?"
"Not really." He admitted. "Your grandmother is kind of crazy."
Y/N cocked an eyebrow in surprise. "How so?" She asked, even though she had a feeling she already knew the answer to it. Probably something to do with magical powers, and glowing lights.
"Why don't you call her for yourself?"
She stared at her father. "Would that even be a good idea?"
"I think so." He shrugged his shoulders. Y/N could tell he was trying very hard to hold his laughter in.
"Seriously dad, you have to tell me."
"She's very superstitious. That's all I'm gonna say." His tone was firm. "I didn't know her very well."
"What about other family members? Where are they?"
"Scattered around the earth. Her family seems to live everywhere, that's why you never see them. They move so often I couldn't keep track, so I stopped trying." Her father grew slightly annoyed. Not at her, but at the mention of a family that wouldn't settle down. "The last time I saw any of them was at the funeral. Besides that, I've heard nothing. They rarely update Facebook. It's strange."
Judging by the look on his face, he did not seem to find it that strange.
Y/N knew better than that. She knew that deep down, he did still care. When her mother passed, all that was left was a hole. And the absence of her extended family must have been tough to deal with. Because there was such a disparity, it took that much longer to heal. It had been five years and it was still heartbreaking to mention her name.
Especially since Y/N was around, as a constant reminder of the woman he used to love. She looked exactly like her.
"But if I'm being honest, I think you should call your grandmother. She would love it."
"I might just do that." Y/N cleared her thoughts, moving on to the next topic now that she had the connection she needed. She could only do so much crying over her dead mother.
The father and daughter talked well into the night until Y/N had to feign tiredness. With a goodnight kiss on the cheek, she left his side and wished him a serene shift; which they both knew was a rare occasion.
Y/N slumped down on her bed and cuddled the sheets. Sleep was tempting, but her mind was racing. She hadn't patrolled in a few days, and it was about time. The animals needed her. Perhaps being in the field may reveal some secrets she needed answered.
Her phone buzzed with a text.
The teenager rolled over in her bed and grabbed it. Her father had texted her.
Papa: > Call her tomorrow.
With a contact attachment. Ragnild Lykke.
Y/N did not know what to feel. She could be brave, and hopefully get some insight from a superstitious old woman; or she could continue to search aimlessly for someone to help. Someone who didn't know her family history.
Frustrated, she set her phone aside and waited quietly for her father to leave. That could wait for tomorrow. Right now she had to worry about the streets... and about Spider-Man.
She had to tell him what happened. But how could she even contact him?
Y/N’s eyes widened. She had his number now, she could reach him whenever she needed.
Y/N blushed, but only slightly. How could she forget? Smirking, she pulled up his contact name, almost laughing out loud when she saw the name he had entered. Web-Head.
The girl hesitated for a moment, with her finger hovering over the send button.
Y/N: > Peter, meet me by the water at midnight. It's urgent.
He replied almost immediately.
Web-Head: > Roger that.
✭✦✭✦✭
There was no wind tonight, and Y/N was grateful for the tranquility. She could wear her hair down without it blowing in her face.
Her usual spot on the cliff's edge felt a little more comforting. It was the same as it had always been. She came here, planned out her night, then followed through with it. Hopefully she could save some lives tonight.
Her eyes unfocused as she stared out on the water. The city lights reflected off the peaceful water, the waves were more calming at this hour, and the water was lower because of the moon.
"Hey, Y/N." Her name sounded so right on his lips. She turned with a smile to find Peter, his mask off.
"Thanks for coming." She greeted. "Sit."
He nodded, joining her side and hanging his legs off the edge. He began to study the ocean just as intently as her.
Peter could tell something was on her mind. She was agitated and timid. Yet regardless of the contrast from her usual demeanor, his senses prickled by being so close to her.
"Tell me." He whispered, not having to worry about his voice getting lost in the wind.He could hear every single occurrence now that the wind was gone. It was strange.
"My powers are getting stronger." Y/N confessed, keeping her gaze outstretched to the dark sea.
Peter did not say anything for there wasn't a need. Being there with her felt normal, it felt right. It was comfortable, the silence between them.
He waited for her to speak. He knew how much courage it took to admit such a discovery.
"I can detect diseases now. I can feel when someone has... cancer."
"Are you serious?" His eyes widened slightly.
Y/N nodded. "My hands, they ache when I get close to someone. There was this girl at school, I barely knew her. But my hands, they led me into the bathroom where she was. They didn't stop glowing until I was in talking distance of her. She told me her symptoms, and a voice in the back of my mind was screaming she had Leukemia, so I told her to check with her doctor." She paused, ashamed that she was rambling. It probably made no sense to Peter, but she had to tell someone.
"I forgot about that incident, until today. She found me, and she told me I was right. She has stage one Leukemia." Lelia felt a tear slip down her cheek. She felt guilty.
"Why are you crying?" He asked, with the most gentle voice she had ever heard. "It's not your fault."
"Yes, it is. If only I'd taken my powers seriously, I could have saved others. I just could never understand what I was feeling, and why I was drawn to certain people."
"You have a gift, Y/N. You shouldn't feel obliged to help everyone. You've been going through this alone, it's not your fault."
Y/N wiped away her tears and laughed lightly. She hadn't expected to start crying in front of him. It was embarrassing.
"I... You're right." The girl confessed.
"I struggle with it too." His voice wavered. "It hurts."
Y/N turned to him. Peter's jaw was clenched, eyebrows furrowed in thought. He meant every word he said.
"T-Thanks Peter. It feels really nice to talk to you."
He met her gaze, his eyes conveying to her that he felt it too.
The intensity of his stare caused her to avert her gaze. Y/N began to nervously play with her coat sleeves, blinking away the last of her tears.
Peter watched for a moment. He studied the way she bit her lip softly when she debated what to say. Y/N was quite reserved, and seemed to put great thought into the words she shared. So when she stuttered like he used to, he could immediately tell it was serious.
"A-Anyways. I was going to go patrolling tonight. Or whatever you want to call it." She chuckled at herself. "I'd like it if you came with me."
Peter smiled. "You mean you want me to come dog-napping with you?"
"It's not called dog-napping when they are being abused. Plus it's not just dogs." Her eyes rolled slightly, yet a faint smirk was detectable.
"Normally, I would be down for it. But not tonight."
"Why?"
Peter looked reluctant. "I got reports from Mr. Stark. The Thorns are becoming a big problem, Y/N. He's only paying attention to them now because they've gotten their hands on some pretty hefty equipment."
"Such as?"
"I'm not exactly sure, weapons made from alien debris left over from the invasion." He said.
"Well I bet you can catch them." She leaned back on her arms, swinging her feet back and forth. She was thankful for the secluded spot along the platform. Though it was dangerous and considered trespassing, it remained her place to come think. And now, she had finally revealed it to another. It had an incredible view of the bay, the lights from downtown glimmering against the water’s surface.
But now, finally becoming aware of the danger that had infested the city, the silence that filled the dimly lit streets was starting to become eerie.
Peter noticed it too.
"If you're going to bust them tonight, can I come with you?" She questioned to regain his attention.
"Uh," He shifted nervously, crossing his legs. "I don't think that's a good idea."
"Why not?" Her eyes narrowed. She wasn't angry, though her face most likely showed that.
"Cause... um." He looked away.
Seeing him so flustered was kind of refreshing. "You can be honest with me." Y/N urged.
"I-I don't want you to get hurt." He said without looking at her.
"I have powers, Peter." She said matter of factly. "Remember?"
His gaze was still focused on the abyss in front of them. The ocean was the best distraction. "But not fighting powers, if you know what I mean." He tried to say as nicely as possible.
"I do." She pondered, brushing her hair behind her shoulders. "But I'm still coming."
He snapped towards her. "I thought I just convinced you not to!"
Her laugh was lighthearted. "I already made up my mind, web-head."
"Ooohh." He tilted his head back in laughter. "I see how it is."
Y/N pushed herself up from the ground. It was time to move on and stop moping. It was time to do something important.
Peter stood up as well. He held his mask by his side, about to put it on—until Y/N snatched it from his grip.
"Hey!" He whisper-yelled, a little too lazy to try and get it back when she moved away. Peter was enjoying her teasing nature. It was normal, and reminded him of his best friend Ned.
Y/N held the mask behind her back, flashing him a cheeky grin.
"I told you I prefer you with the mask off." She stopped jogging around him. "At leash until the fight starts."
He closed the gap between them. The cold air ceased as he towered over her. "Who says there's going to be a fight?"
Peter reached for his mask, but grabbed her hand instead. He felt her delicate skin instead of the silky material he'd become so accustomed to. His heartbeat quickened at the contact. The feeling of her gentle touch was one he wanted to keep close, one that he was determined to protect.
Peter reached for her other hand. Y/N gladly obliged, breathless.
He was being so sweet, the girl could not help but freeze.
Am I crazy for wanting more? She pondered.
Peter relished in the moment for as long as he could. The sight of her reddening cheeks gave him a boost of confidence.
Y/N was gorgeous, as always. How could he say no to her?
"You can come with, but you're staying out of the fight. I won't let you get hurt." Peter held her hands in his. They were so gentle, so soft. How could these hands hold such an unexplainable power?
Y/N closed her eyes in peace. His touch, his company, was too good to be true. There was no way he felt the same.
Regardless, Y/N gathered the courage to stand on her tip-toes, and whisper in his ear—
"That better be a promise." Before pressing her lips gently on his cheek.
✭✦✭✦✭
Tag List! (lmk if you want to be taken off or added)
@spn-assemble-seven @eridanuswave @fallisflame @used-avocado @pluckypete @vanillanestor @averyfosterthoughts @wherewecomealive @magicalturmoil @lust-for-pan @keep-bears-wild @selintugmen @undiadeestos @eridanuswave @unknownsolarsystems @ineedabifriend @silver-winter-wolf @alioop3818
#peter parker x reader#peter parker fanfiction#peter parker imagine#peter parker#tom holland x reader
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CFD Anon: I am not sure if I worded this well, but my follow up request is treatment is going super well for MC and has placed the CML in remission. So head-canons with RFA+V either with the news of the remission, her follow-up care, survivor-ship care plans and/or her worrying about the cancer coming back if treatment stops working.
(2/2)
Got it! This is actually a great prompt; my mom works in the hematoncology and genetics department back home, so I’ve been helping out and meeting patients with leukemias and other conditions frequently since I was a kid.
YOOSUNG:
* He’s been with MC through it all, through every failed and attempted treatment.
* He saw MC get weaker by the day, frailer, only to then have a few weeks of stillness, before acute bouts of the disease resurfaced, making her spend days in bed, too tired to do much else.
* And suddenly, it all just...phased out. She seemed better, stronger slowly, and they were both confused, scared of what’s to come, what’s going on.
* Even her doctors seemed surprised, running test after test, taking so many blood samples Yoosung thought they’d run MC dry. But then her supervising doctor came back with a smile on her face, explaining the situation to them.
* Remission, she’d called it; not cure. It’s the best they could hope for, she said. Yoosung held MC’s hand in his, tight as he carefully listened to the doctor’s explanation and detailed follow-up plans.
* Whilst MC’s blood results were seemingly back to normal, the cancer wasn’t quite gone; she’d still have to continue some of the treatments she’d been undergoing, mainly medications and injections-Yoosung pretended not to hear the shaky sigh of relief when MC was told she wouldn’t have to undergo any further radiation treatment, that they’d still have to have monthly check-ups until they can no longer detect any genetic abnormalities in her white blood cells.
* Yoosung was thrilled at the news-MC was getting better! She’d slowly reover her energy, return to the bright excited girl Yoosung had fallen in love with!
* And yet she didn’t seem nearly as thrilled as he felt. He didn’t ask anything, not until they were back home, late at night when he held her close to him, fully aware than neither of them was asleep.
* He didn’t say anything, simply held her by the waist as she hid her head into his chest. “What if it comes back? Again and again? What if-I’ll never go back to how I was before?”
* He..didn’t have a response to her question. Yoosung whished with all his might that he could find an answer, a definitive one to ease her mind, but there wasn’t one; neither of them could know what the future had in store for them.
* All he could do was kiss her forehead, pull her as close to him as he could.
* “I’ll be there with you. Through it all, no matter what.”
ZEN:
* Honestly, MC’s ups and downs had taken a toll on both of them.
* The Zen that always took care of his pristine appearance now had dark eye bags, his skin taut as he spend nights worrying over MC’s sleeping form, constantly terrified she’ll slip through his fingers.
* When, after her usual check-up, the doctor called them the very same day to ask them to come in for a meeting the next day, they both looked to each other, fearing the worst; why else would the doctor call them this hastily?
* He didn’t let himself appear weak or scared at that time-he put his best acting skills to work, working up a smile on his lips as he eased MC’s worries, telling her he’s sure it’s no big deal, that the doctor might just want to discuss a few things she forgot to mention in their previous meeting.
* He only let himself break down at night, only after MC was fast asleep. He sneaked up to the rooftop, stealing one single cigarette that shook between his lips as he took ragged breaths, ignoring the wetness that trailed down his cheeks.
* The next day as they sat across the smiling doctor behind her desk, Zen had his hand firmly gripping MC’s thigh, a gesture that was less-so romantic as it was meant to be reassuring, a quiet ‘I’m here whatever may come’ sort of thing.
* When the doctor explained the remission to them-how not only MC’s blood results were getting better, but that the amount of mutated cells had significantly dropped, when she said the word remission-Zen couldn’t help the happy tears that escaped his eyes.
* He turned to MC, his smile shaky but sincere. “You hear that baby? You’re getting better! You’ve been so strong, and now you’re being rewarded for it!”
* Even the doctor couldn’t help but smile at the couple in front of her, how MC immediatly ducked into Zen’s embrace to hide her laughter.
* “This is really great news, and I’m happy to see you both excited, but please remember that this isn’t a cure-it’s remission. We still have a long way to go, but MC, you can definitely expect an improvement in your energy levels and for some of the more severe symptoms to slowly fade away. We’ll discuss follow up treatments and arrange future check-ups, but if all goes well, we can expect a full remission soon” the doctor said, and it was music to their ears.
* Zen took the whole rest of the day off of work-rehearsals could wait, today he had to celebrate the good news with his baby! He took her out to their favorite ice cream parlor, walked lazily for a while around town before heading back home, where he had MC sit beside him on the kitchen counter as he cooked her her favorite meal.
* “Zen it’s-I’m happy too but please stop pushing yourself this much for me” MC asked, guilt pooling in her stomach. She was no fool, she knew the toll this had taken on Zen, and she didn’t want him to get his hopes up only to have them crushed again if there was another acute bout of her disease reappearing.
* Zen shook his head, leaning close to MC to give her a chaste kiss. “We’re allowed to celebrate small victories my love, and this is one of them. For today let’s stop thinking of what the future holds, and just enjoy the good news, okay?”
JAEHEE:
* When Jaehee’s stressed, she plans. She cleans, she arranges, she needs to put structure into everything she can so that at least everything else in her life is controlled.
* So when MC told Jaehee of her diagnosis, when Jahee started living with MC and saw the impact this leukemia has on MC; she got to planning, researching, strategising.
* She’d read every resource available when it came to CML, what the phases are, what to expect in each phase; every medication MC took, Jaehee looked up, reading on their effects and side effects, how to best combat post-chemotherapy nausea, everything she could learn, she did.
* She was on a first-name basis with MC’s doctors, always coming in for check-ups and treatment rounds, writing down the dates and dosages in her calendar-the nurses were honestly in love with Jaehee, asking her if she’d be willing to come work with them lol
* She’d put up a strong face in front of MC, but everytime she saw MC cry because of pain or fear, everytime she’d hear her vomit in behind closed bathroom doors, she’d allow herself a moment of vulnerability, letting out a shaky breath before composing herself again.
* Jaehee would look through each of MC’s blood test results everytime they were available, and within a few months she noticed the pattern of improvement-how her white blood cell counts were returning to normal, how the last specialised blood test showed a decreased count of mutated cells.
* She was aware MC was going into remission even before the doctors told them, but still, to hear it from a professional-she was so relieved she could melt right into that hospital office chair right then and there.
* She knew the risks of course, how remission doesn’t equate cure, how MC would still need to take medications and return for frequent check ups, the risks or relapse per percentage and what not.
* But still, this victory-they could allow themselves to relish in this.
* As soon as they exited the doctors office, standing in front of that door-before MC could turn and utter a single word to Jaheee, Jaehee whirled around, grabbing MC’s face and kissing the heck out of her, earning a few ‘awws’ and coos from passerbys.
* Even through her furious red blush she looked to MC with a confident smile. “I’m so, so proud of you” she said and kissed MC again for good measure.
JUMIN:
* Similarly to Jaehee, he’s a man who needs structure, especially in stressful times, unable to allow himself to drown in emotions. Unlike Jaehee though, he’s unable to even recognise those emotions at first, not until one day he feels such a horrible stomach ache he decides to stay home for the day.
* MC asks him how he’s feeling, if he needs anything-when he explains his pain to her, how he feels this constriction in his chest, his stomach pain a nuisance; MC smiles, soft and sad as she strokes his hair. “That’s anxiety my love” she says, “And I’m afraid I might be the cause of it.”
* Jumin takes some time, acknowledging the feeling, but tells MC to never blame herself again-if he’s feeling this way it’s not because of any wrong-doing on her part, it’s simply another manifestation of his love for her.
* He too closely monitors MC’s progress, inviting the best of the best hematooncologists to monitor her, gets her the latest and most improved treatments they can offer.
* He learns all there is about CML, and talks with her doctors on the daily-nothing slips by Jumin, not when it comes to his beloved MC.
* When the doctors explain remission to the couple, the stages of it and how they’ll modify MC’s future care accordingly, he patiently listens, and does some further research himself before he can feel even a little at ease-only facts and numbers can sooth this mans’ mind, and when he sees how low the relapse percentages are in comparison to the 5year survival rates-over 90%, medical papers assure him, only then does he smile, telling MC the good news.
* MC is worried, and rightfully so-even as Jumin tells her all he’s learnt, she’s gnawing on her lip, her hands firmly clasped on her lap.
* “I-what if luck isn’t on our side Jumin? What if I’m one of those few numbers that do relapse?”
* Jumin didn’t miss a beat. He kneeled in front of MC, taking a hold of her hands. He stroked her knuckles with his thumbs, stopping to take a hold of her hand where her wedding ring sat perfectly on her ring finger.
* “Even then, we’ll face it together. Through the good and the bad, in sickness and in health. That’s what we promised, isn’t it?” he asked, leaning down to kiss her knuckles.
* “You’ll find I’m a man of my word MC” he added with a smile, and well, it’s impossible to resist kissing that smile off of his face now isn’t it?
SEVEN/LUCIEL/SAEYOUNG:
* Believe it or not, he’s the one that lets his anxiety show the most out of all of the RFA.
* Thing is, when stressed, sad, overwhelmed-Saeyoung becomes closed off, distant and cold, his only defense mechanism given what life has thrown at him.
* He tries to be strong though, for MC. He’s there with her through every session of chemotherapy, and even if he can’t be there for the whole duration, he’ll send her memes and silly jokes to distract her, and will always come pick her up from the hospital when she’s done.
* If she gets anxious or sad, he’ll take her for a ride in one of his babies, finding the best secluded viewpoints he can-he’ll lay a blanket on the ground in front of the car, take another to cover them both as he holds MC close, looking to the city skyline at night-sometimes they’ll stay there, talking until daybreak, and if MC falls asleep in the car on the way back, he’ll drive a little slower, avoiding any bumps in the road so she can get some peaceful rest.
* you fell asleep in my car, I drove the whole time, but that’s ok I’ll just avoid the holes so you sleep fine, I’m driving here I sit, cursing the goverment, for not using my taxes to fill holes with more cement-
* When doctors speak of remission and stages and treatments, Seven honestly zones out-not because he’s not interested in what they’re saying, but because he just can’t help but focus his attention on MC’s face, how her eyes light up at the doctors explanation, the little tremble of her lips that split into a smile as tears well up in her eyes;
* “Excuse me doc, I just need to do something mildly indecent for a moment-” he speaks up, and shifts from his seat besides MC in the doctors office, cusps her cheeks in his palms as he gives her a quick kiss on the lips, knocking his forehead with hers as he whispers “You’ve made it baby. You did it.”
* The doctor politely coughs, unable to hide her smile as Saeyoung gives her a sheepish smile, returning back to his seat, his hand still gripping MC’s tight.
* The explanation of follow-up care is a blur for Saeyoung-he has a photographic memory though, so when the doctor gives them some leaflets and a detailed individualised plan for MC’s follow up care, he reads through them, and ticks a mental note to drive MC to her next appointment.
* When outside at the hospitals parking lot, Saeyoung walks ahead to unlock the car, feeling MC snake her hands around his waist, knocking her head on his back.
* He smiles, covering her hands with his own.
* “Thank you-being there for me, even though you’ve been going through so much yourself I-thank you, Saeyoung” she mumbled on the fabric of his jacket. Saeyoung simply turned, pulling her close to him as he looked into her gleaming eyes.
* “No, thank you, MC”, he started, wiping stray tears from her face, “for choosing to be with me. Thank you for everything you’ve given me. If-if you’ll have me” he looked away, his cheeks a fiery red, “I want to be there with you through anything and everything else that’s to come.”
* MC poked his ribs, a smirk on her lips. “Sae, that sounds just like a marriage proposal.”
* Saeyoung...he was thankful she didn’t move her hands lower on his back, that she didn’t feel the box-shaped lump in his back pocket.
* “Maybe it is, maybe it isn’t-you’ll just have to wait and see now won’t you?” he teased back, letting go of MC to hop into the drivers seat.
* Soon, he promised her quietly, soon.
V/JIHYUN:
* Oof...honestly...this man has been nothing but supportive through it all.
* He researched everything he could about CML, politely asking doctors and nurses whenever he could about things he didn’t understand or things he wanted to fact-check that he’d read online.
* It could’ve been annoying were it not for his dang politeness, the worry in his eyes as he asked his questions. No one had the heart to dismiss him, and MC’s supervising doctor even set up a seperate time to meet with Jihyun and answer any questions he may have about CML (so long as they didn’t directly relate to MC’s condition-we ain’t about to violate HIPPA y’all)
* MC and him quickly become the cutest couple the hospital has ever seen-he’s always there with her through every chemotherapy session, holding her close as he quietly reads one book after another to her, his voice lulling her into a brisk sleep while the IV drained in her veins.
* Nurses and other patients would greet the two, stop and whisper-talk with Jihyun whilst MC slept, and he was always so happy to chat and remembered everyone’s names and conversations they’d have had the weeks before-he quickly became everyone’s favorite person to roam the hospitall halls lol
* With every new developement, every up and down, he’d face it together with MC, her hand clasped tight in his.
* When the doctor talked to them about remission, how her latest blood results looked better and better-how another bone marrow biopsy could tell if she’d gone into full remission or not, Jihyun sat beside her with a smile.
* He didn’t even notice he’d been crying until the doctor politely pushed a box of tissues his way, earning a giggle from MC as she turned and saw Jihyun’s confused tear-eyed expression at the offending tissue box.
* During her bone marrow biopsy, he stood by her side, let her hide her face into his shirt as the doctor plucked the thick needle onto her hip. He held her hand, letting her dig her nails into his skin, ignoring the crescent shaped dents that remained on his skin for days afterwards-this was nothing, nothing in front of what MC had underwent.
* They celebrated the news of her full remission by cooking her favorite meal, then going to a late-night summer drive-in cinema, where he removed the cloth-plastic covering of his old Volkswagen car’s hood, letting the summer breeze in as they watched a cheesy romance film, holding MC close and kissing her temple every once in a while.
* Honestly...he was so happy, and they’d both been strong for so long through it all, they deserved these quiet vulnerable moments, and Jihyun wanted nothing more than to stay here with MC healthier and happier, in his arms.
-send me mystic messenger headcanons for character reactions-
-masterpost-
#asks#mystic messenger#mysme#mystic messenger prompts#mystic messenger headcanons#mysme headcanosn#mysme prompts#yoosung kim#jaehee kang#mysme zen#hyun ryu#jumin han#luciel choi#saeyoung choi#707#mysme 707#mysme seven#jihyun kim#mysme v#Anonymous
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Howard Tate: A Philadelphia Soul Resurrection
This post is a near- transcript of the Broken Buttons: Buried Treasure Music podcast (episode 1, side B). Here you’ll find the narration from the segment featuring the great Philadelphia soul singer Howard Tate, along with links, videos, photos and references for the episode.
Listen to the full episode on Spotify, Anchor or Mixcloud.
Music history is packed with bands and artists that had the talent, the songs and even the fully realized recordings to make it big, only to be passed over. Some miss their window, or worse, some get their big break, but somehow self-destruct or fail to capitalize on it. It’s the reason why I decided to do this show. There is so much overlooked and under appreciated music out there to be found and enjoyed.
This next artist doesn’t quite hit any of those scenarios exactly though. Howard Tate got his break and made it happen. Howard Tate hit big and he hit fast. Tate said he came home from work one day and a big limousine was sitting in front of his door.
“You gotta get in here right away. You gotta get a suit. You’re playing with Marvin Gaye tomorrow night.”
Between 1966 and 1970 Howard Tate had six top 40 R&B singles. And then he disappeared. Plunging into obscurity, almost as quickly as he soared within sight of the summit. Tate never completely crossed over. While he regularly appeared on the R&B charts, the highest he ever placed on the Pop charts was #63.
Let’s start our dive into Tate, by hearing his highest charting single. One of three top 20 R&B hits in his catalog. This is Ain’t Nobody Home by Howard Tate.
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Ain’t Nobody Home by Howard Tate.
Here’s what the Rough Guide to Soul & R&B has to say about that recording and the chemistry of the whole crew who made it happen.
“With a groove laid down by keyboardist Richard Tee, guitarist Cornell Dupree, bassist Chuck Rainey and drummer Herb Lovell, the production of Ain’t Nobody Home by Jerry Ragovoy both borrowed from and influenced the music coming from Memphis and Muscle Shoals, and set the precedent for Atlantic’s first recordings with Aretha Franklin. While the music was great, however, it was Tate’s vocals that made the record. Sounding like a less overwrought Percy Sledge, Tate’s simultaneously Northern and Southern phrasing was impeccable, and economical use of his falsetto made it all the more effective.”
Tate had the voice, which many compared to Sam Cooke and Marvin Gaye. He also had a distinctive gospel-blues delivery that sticks with you for days. But the tunes came from somewhere else.
Before his quick ascent, Tate was singing in a group with Garnet Mimms. Mimms was the original singer of the Janis Joplin hit, Cry Baby. He also introduced Howard to record producer Jerry Ragovoy, who co-wrote Cry Baby. Ragovoy is known for writing Time is On My Side for the Rolling Stones and another Joplin hit, Piece of My Heart. Clearly Janis liked the songwriting of Jerry Ragovoy. In fact, she also performed this Ragovoy composition that you’ve probably come across at one time or another.
That’s Janis Joplin singing Get It While You Can from her massive second album Pearl in 1971. What you might not know is that Get it While you Can was originally performed by Howard Tate, five years earlier in 1966.
Ragovoy was taken with Tate’s voice and began recording him as a solo artist for Verve Records. Ragovoy’s memorable, punchy Northern soul production paired with Tate’s soulful blues phrasing was a perfect match.
Here’s Howard Tate’s version, the original version, of the Jerry Ragovoy penned Get It While You Can.
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That was Howard Tate with Get It While You Can from the 1966 album of the same name.
American rock critic Robert Christgau had this to say about Tate and his collaboration with Jerry Ragovoy.
“Tate is a blues-drenched Macon native who had the desire to head north and sounds it every time he gooses a lament with one of the trademark keens that signify the escape he never achieved. He brought out the best in soul pro Jerry Ragovoy, who made Tate's records jump instead of arranging them into submission, and gave him lyrics with some wit to them besides. In return, Ragovoy brought out the best in Tate.”
Despite the magical team up on early singles and a debut album, Tate recorded his second album without Ragovoy, instead working with Lloyd Price and Johnny Nash. Released in 1969, Howard Tate’s Reaction is more uptown soul than the grittier southern soul of its predecessor, but it’s another recognition worthy collection of performances.
Ragovoy and Tate reunited for 1972’s eponymous Howard Tate. This time an Atlantic release. Critics knock this album as being a notch below Ragovoy’s best songwriting, but I think it’s a worthy piece of Tate’s catalog. Tate sounds great, as always, and there are a couple of really explosive, interesting covers. The Band’s Jemima Surrender and this one.
Bob Dylan’s Girl From the North Country. Listen to this voice.
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Howard Tate covering Bob Dylan’s Girl From the North County from 1972.
After recording a handful of additional songs—one single for Epic and a few for his own label—Tate retired from the music business. Frustrated with his lack of crossover, but downright bitter about how little he was paid for his successes, which again, included 3 top 20 R&B hits—he quit. Disappeared, really.
But not everyone was ready to forget. And while his name would fade from memories over the coming decades, Howard Tate’s impact was undeniable.
One of Tate’s heroes, BB King, covered Ain’t Nobody Home. So did Bonnie Raitt.
Ry Cooder and Grand Funk covered Look At Granny Run Run
Jimi Hendrix covered Stop
Foghat covered Eight Days on the Road and so did the one and only queen if soul.
And not everyone forgot. Tate’s old partner, record producer and chief songwriter Jerry Ragovoy made many attempts to track down his old friend over the years. He contacted old business associates and got them in on the search. They all came up empty.
A New Jersey DJ named Phil Casden had developed somewhat of an obsession with Tate’s whereabouts. Casden hosted a weekly radio show, spinning soul, blues and R&B and had taken to asking his listeners for any information about the missing (by this time) cult soul legend.
Even Verve, Tate’s old record company, had given up trying to track down the long retired crooner. The 1995 CD reissue of Tate’s Verve sessions included liner notes that flat out said: Howard Tate is probably dead.
''It wasn't sufficient to leave a story like that open-ended,'' Mr. Casden said. ''I had to find out: 'Is the guy alive? Is he dead?' There had to be something more than, 'He just rode off into the sunset.' ''
In 2001 the mystery was solved. Ron Kennedy, singer of Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes recognized Tate at a grocery store and the old pals played catch up after nearly 30 years. They exchanged numbers. Kennedy put the New Jersey DJ, Casden, in touch with Tate. Casden enthusiastically announced the good news to his listeners and the soul fanatics across the internet. Howard Tate was alive! He even put Tate in touch with a lawyer to help him recoup past royalties from his reissues.
Apparently Tate had quite a loyal following overseas. Eventually, a British journalist reached out to Tate’s old partner-producer Jerry Ragovoy for a reaction. The only problem was, Ragovoy didn’t have a reaction to give because he didn’t know Tate had been found. Ragovoy was elated at the news. After reconnecting with his long lost friend and confirming he was doing well, the next thing on his mind: could Howard Tate still sing?
Before we answer that, let’s answer this: where had Tate been all those years after walking away from the music?
After becoming resentful and disheartened by his missing paydays, Tate decided to go missing himself. He didn’t intentionally go into hiding, he just bailed on the industry that he felt wronged had him.
He worked as a securities dealer with Prudential for a while and then darkness hit. He lost his 13-year-old daughter in a house fire. In 1981, after 20 years, his marriage fell apart. Soon after, Tate unraveled too. He tumbled into drug addiction and lost everything. He lived on the streets for years, struggling to get by and feed his habit. Finally, in the mid 90s, he started to climb out of the hole. He cleaned up and found god. He became a minister and dedicated his life to helping the poor and homeless.
And that brings us up to the moment of his big reunion with Jerry Ragovoy and loyal fans awareness that Howard Tate was alive and well after all those years. But now more than your die hard R&B/soul enthusiasts were interested.
But did he still have that voice? Could Howard still sing?
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Uh, yeah. Jerry Ragovoy was stunned at how strong Tate sounded after decades of being out of the game. And he was REALLY out of the game. Howard claims he never sang a note all those years. Not until Jerry approached him about recording a comeback album and got him into the studio. Tate also says he had no clue that Janis, B.B., Jimi, Ry or any of the others had ever covered his songs or took an interest in his music.
Howard and Jerry recorded a new album in 2003. It’s called Rediscovered. And remember that Elvis Costello quote from the intro to this episode? Elvis called Tate the missing link between Jackie Wilson and Al Green. Tate asked Costello to write a song for his new album and he agreed.
Let’s here that now. From his comeback album, Rediscovered, more than 3 decades in the making, here’s Howard Tate with Either Side of the Same Town, written by Elvis Costello.
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That was Either Side of the Same Town from Howard Tate’s first album after 30 hears away from the music business. But not his last.
Tate had quite the victory lap. He made numerous tv, radio and festival appearances in the ten years after his reemergence. He recorded two more studio full lengths and a live album. On December 2nd, 2011, Tate passed away of complications of multiple myeloma and leukemia.
With a superb first act and a spectacular resurrection that led to the near doubling of his recorded output, there’s plenty of Tate music to check out and enjoy.
Other sources for this segment are listed below.
I referenced several NPR features in this episode, including the obituary they did for Tate.
Deep Southern Soul - This blog did a great post on Howard Tate. Lots of other good stuff here, but they recently announced they are closing up.
Gadfly Online - Another nice write up on Tate and his back story.
New Jersey new feature - The clip of Howard talking is from this segment. They did a feature on Tate’s rediscovery.
Trunkworthy - Post about Tate and his comeback. This site digs into music, movies and TV you might have missed. They also did a post about the Elvis Costello song featured in this episode. Elvis’ version is on The Delivery Man album.
New York Times Obituary for Howard Tate
The Guardian Obituary for Howard Tate
Billboard Magazine, July 26, 2003 - Article about Howard’s return after 30 years.
#Broken Buttons#Howard Tate#soul music#northern soul#rare soul#Marvin Gaye#Jackie Wilson#Sam Cooke#R&B#Jerry Ragovoy#David Letterman#NPR#Fresh Air#Al Green#Wilson Pickett#Janis Joplin#Bob Dylan#Aretha Franklin#Percy Mayfield#New Jersey#Georgia
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At the stroke of midnight on January 31st, 2020, the music industry was single-handedly saved by just a young lad from Doncaster. We can all agree, in confidence, that the majority of artists won’t top the charts with their first LP, especially with little to no promo. “Walls” however, debuted at #1 on the worldwide iTunes charts, a feat not many will come by. Judging by its success, we can rightfully assume this album could be rather magical. Just over a month into the decade, I can happily testify that this may be one of the greatest pieces of work we’ll see over the span of the next 10 years. The only record I may allow to top it, will be Tomlinson’s sophomore album, which is fair to speculate will have a little less fan service and show a little more of the grunge britpop rockstar that Louis is dying to showcase.
Oh, this guy’s from One Direction, too. It’s a fact that doesn’t need to be honed in on, but in case you aren’t familiar with his older work, the UK-based band is where he found his origin story. Though hopefully after giving these tracks a listen, we’ll all be able to start celebrating him as the solo artist he was destined to become.
Kill My Mind
You hate me and I want more.
Perhaps I wasn’t alive during majority of the Britpop Movement of the 90s, but I can wholeheartedly say that if you played this opening track for anyone familiar with the genre, they would tell you it would feel right at home as a feature on one of Oasis’ final LPs or as a single brought to us by Blur. However, that is not to say it lacks originality. In fact, far from it. His thick Yorkshire accent demands your attention right off the bat. This song is confident, it’s loud, it’s sexy, it’s everything his loyal fanbase has been patiently waiting to see arise from the musician. It’s a different Tomlinson than the general public may be accustomed to, but it’s a perfect example of an artist finding their authentic self. The electric opener, Kill My Mind gives us a little tease as to what’s to come.
Don’t Let It Break Your Heart
What hurts you is gonna pass and you’ll have learned from it when it comes back.
After careful consideration, this may be the album’s weakest link. It draws on a bit of the pop-influence his previous audiences may be more familiar with. Previously, Louis released a single-edit and a piano version. The one featured on the album, is by far the most well mixed. It’s filled with beautiful harmonies and the layered vocals have a lot of potential. The message of this song is uplifting, about overcoming hardships with grace and allowing yourself to grow from them — A theme not uncommon in Louis’ writing or general life philosophy. Always the lyricist, coming from him, this message works and it works beautifully into the melodies of the song. My main issue comes down to production. The background vocals are choppy and make the general feeling of the song a little cheesy. Ultimately, it all just sounds forced. I can say however, experiencing this song live is a different story. Some songs are meant to be played live, and this just happens to be one of them.
Two of Us
We’ll end just like we started, just you and me, and no one else.
The lead single was one Louis himself proclaimed needed to be written, or else his other art would suffer from being insincere. “I just feel like musically, I almost needed to get this song off my chest,” He recently told Rolling Stone, “People say writing is a part of therapy and in a way, I feel like I’d been avoiding writing this song because I knew I only had one chance to get it right.” For those who may be unaware, at the start of his solo career, Louis tragically lost his mother, the person he was closest with, to leukemia. Out of respect to him, I won’t dwell on this, and it does feel fairly inconsiderate to put the piece under review, per say. I will, however, assert that it is a stunningly orchestrated song. You can feel the authenticity and honesty radiate from the words he’s singing, especially in the big build up of the chorus in comparison to the heart wrenching and softly sung outro. It’s rare we find artists who are proud to wear their hearts on their sleeves and speak with true openness. Each song is an example of this, but Two of Us broadcasts this vulnerability loudly, as he gives us an anthem of accepting that you’re grieving and reminding listeners to always hold onto hope.
We Made It
Nothing in the world that I would change it for, singing something pop-y on the same four chords.
Yes, she’s corny, yes her lyrics might not be up to standard with the rest of his work, and yes, she is my favorite song on the album. We Made It, is filled to the rim with nostalgia and embracing that although the tunnel was dark, there was in the end, a light. For anyone who has grown up with Louis and supported him through all the twists and turns of his decade long career, this song could be a celebration of us and our relationship with our favorite musician. There were always struggles along the way, but we, as fans, never turned our back on him. We were there for him when he needed us to lean on. The sentiment remains when reversed. Ultimately, whatever we needed, he was able to provide. It’s easy to see how much of a team Louis and his followers are, and this song is honoring that. If you’re less familiar with the singer himself, then this track is just a fun little guitar-driven song that reminisces those nights of getting smashed and blazed out of your mind with your young love, and what’s wrong with that?
Too Young
Face to face at the kitchen table, this is everything I’ve waited for.
Every album needs a song to cry to, and for Walls, this is the one. There aren’t too many complexities here, as Louis has said he generally likes to stray away from metaphors when he can. The calm strumming of the acoustic guitar, lends itself beautifully to the track, and never overpowers Louis’ voice. Vocally, this a huge example of a myriad of Louis’ strengths. It contrasts some of the heavily belted pieces we hear later on in the album, and focuses on the softness he’s able to convey in his killer range of a chest voice. His raspy tone demonstrates a certain intimacy. When the song is listened to through headphones with your eyes closed, it almost feels as if Louis is right there on your bedside, gently playing a personal piece he had just written and trusts you enough to perform it for you first. There’s a certain amount of emotional intelligence demonstrated in this song, as he never pulls the victim card, but instead takes the mature approach of admitting to where he’s gone wrong. This notion is used a lot in his writing, and is a sure telling of his character. This catchy little ballad wouldn’t feel out of place on albums of most genres, musically lacking some originality, which is made up for with the candor and polish in his vocals.
Walls
Why is it that “thank-you” is so often bittersweet?
Objectively speaking, this is the most well crafted track on the album. Perhaps even more Oasis-y than some Oasis hits, it even earned itself a writing credit from Noel Gallagher himself. By now, we are more than well accustomed to embracing Louis’ themes of overcoming barriers (or walls). It’s something he writes about often, and why shouldn’t he? He knows what it’s like to stand above what’s been dragging you down more than anyone. The most titular lyric opens and closes the tune, proclaiming, “Nothing wakes you up, like waking up alone.” As soon as you’re hit with this, you know you’re listening to a song which dares the audience to take the musician earnestly. Louis has always been the funny one who has chosen to never take himself too seriously in life. With his music, he had a hard time at the start, choosing to put out records which defined Top 40, but never himself. Walls forces us to accept the artist he’s become. It proves to every listener, that Louis Tomlinson is a musician, a lyricist, a vocalist; a true craftsman. He is a serious artist and this salient track forces us, for once, to accept him as one.
Habit
Took some time cause I ran out of energy, of playing someone I’ve heard I’m supposed to be.
Back in February of 2018, Louis teased this lyric on his twitter, sending fans into a frenzy of when and where this sentiment might come into play. In September of last year, he finally played it for us live. This live version of the song was a complete bore. Again, Louis’ biggest asset in his music may come from his lyrics. He wrote more songs for One Direction than any of the other boys, often partnering with Liam Payne who would work on the melodies, while Louis focused on cutting deep with his words. This is more than evident here, meaning any initial fondness of this song was independently due to the verses he was singing. When the album finally hit stands and we were able to hear the studio version, I have to say, my opinion on this absolute banger changed drastically. It may be a little controversial to say, but this song might have some “Yeehaw” vibes. If you played someone the opening, before his vocals take the forefront, it would’ve been fair to assume it was a Maren Morris hit. Country/Britpop/Indie isn’t exactly something I would ever even consider diving into, but let me tell you, this certified bop has been on repeat. Here’s to hoping him and his band can put together a new live arrangement before the world tour kicks off in March.
Always You
Waiting to wrap your legs around me, and I know you hate to smoke without me.
To be blunt, this song was a fan service. If it wasn’t for Louis’ persistent stans, this track may have been ditched months ago. However, when he gave us a glimpse of the songs upbeat opening lyric three years ago, we latched onto it. For years we bombarded Louis, telling him this song needed to stay on the record, and thank God he listened. He did realize partway through the writing process that this isn’t the sort of music he would like to put out anymore, so it may not resonate with someone looking for the more grungy side of the artist. Always You is almost pure bubblegum and it sounds like it should be radiating loudly off festival speakers. The tune will be a crowd-pleaser, and will surely bring the most hype for live audiences. It’s the sort of song you want to scream out while drunk on a rooftop in the summer atop the ocean in New York City, which is exactly what myself and approximately 6800 more fans will be doing this June.
Fearless
Cash in your weekend treasures, for a suit and tie, a second wife.
God damn is Fearless sexy. The slow and pulsing beat of this song, with the organic guitar, subtle production, and his sultry voice are a recipe for a great and sensual tune. The song was written with the inspiration of feeling youthful, and teaches what to center your sense of self-worth around. There’s a certain level of maturity that comes with a song of these intentions, and in that, Louis is able to showcase his ever growing wisdom. “What I wanted to try and capture with the song is the idea of feeling youthful and how important that is,” He recently said in an interview with Apple Music, “I’m at this age where I’m on the cusp — I’m definitely not a teenager, I’m not a young lad anymore, nor am I old, but I sit in this space where I’m aware of my age now. I hear it as a playground or going back to real youth.”
Perfect Now
Don’t you wanna dance? Just a little dance?
On release day, Louis did a signing, where he bravely asked a few fans what their least favorite track on the album was. Everyone said Perfect Now, earning them a high five from the man himself as well as his genuine agreement. While many look at it as a cheesy romantic love song, masquerading as a rejected early One Direction track, mirroring Little Things or What Makes You Beautiful, I wholeheartedly disagree. It’s easy to chalk it down to being “cheesy” when you approach it as being romantic, but if you look at it as, simply, a love song, that changes the perspective. Louis sings over an appealing and charming little guitar melody, and you can almost hear his smile. It’s easy to picture him singing this to his younger sisters as a piece of brotherly encouragement, or to a good friend who needs cheering up after a hard day. This darling melody invites you to dance around your bedroom feeling loved. Perfect Now proves that not everything has to be deep and serious; allow yourself to be open to simply feeling happy over the little things like a lyric that makes you smile. When in the chorus he prompts, “Keep your head up, love,” listeners can’t help but feel a sense of personal support from the artist, which is exactly what makes this song so special.
Defenseless
We’re sleeping on our problems like we’ll solve them in our dreams.
It’s understandable why Louis likes to stray from metaphors in his writing, because generally speaking, they simply aren’t good. This is proven with lyrics such as, “I’m running to you like a moth into a flame”. As well as this, the rhyming of “defenseless” with “fences” and then “defenseless” again, doesn’t exactly sit well. The song does grow to be much better than anticipated after the first verse. The pre-chorus has a strong beat, which you’ll find yourself accidentally clapping along to in public. The bridge allows Louis to explore his falsetto, which is something we’ve never heard from him before. It’s strong and poignant, and it’s a real shame that his old band never gave him the opportunity to use his voice in all its capabilities. The control Louis has over his vocals throughout this song is astonishing, and almost unheard of in most modern music outside of musical theatre. This track alone, proves that he is one of the most vocally gifted artists not only to come out of One Direction, but to come out of the last decade at all.
Only the Brave
It’s a church of burnt romances and I’m too far gone to pray.
The lyrics to this song are borderline poetry. Each and every word draws you in and leaves you speechless. It’s a short song, ending at one minute and forty-four seconds, and that works well. It leaves us wanting more, even when we’ve reached the very end of the whole experience. The tune feels like a mantra; something to sing to yourself as you prepare for something you’re nervous about or to congratulate yourself on completing a task you never thought you could accomplish. There’s no proper structure and his voice has a retro filter over top, giving the whole thing a bit of a wartime vibe. The most powerful moment is undoubtedly when he sings, “It’s a solo song, and it’s only for the brave,” as a way of patting himself on the back for where he is now in life and in his career. It’s the perfect way to bring home the album. After 12 tracks demonstrating it, it is proven to us that he doesn’t need his ex-bandmates, he doesn’t need a big production, he doesn’t need Simon Cowell, he doesn’t need other songwriters dictating what direction to go, because he is Louis Tomlinson and he is brave.
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Swim - Chapter 2 - Be Scared With Me
Be scared with me, honey
Be scared, I am too
Let's share in the running
We'll fare best as two
Be scared 'til it's funny
Be scared through and through
Be scared 'til it's sunny
We'll stare down into the unknown
And anything this world can do to you and me
-"Be Scared With Me" by Canyon City
The next half hour is a blur, he’s throwing things in a suitcase for Lydia and then throwing them in the car, pulling out of the driveway as Rick pulls in. Rick waves at them but Daryl doesn’t even register the movement until he’s already out of the driveway and turning off their street.
“Daddy where are we going?!” Lydia’s high pitched panicked voice breaks through the colored fog in his head and he has to pull to the side of the side of the road. He turns back in his seat and looks back at her. Tears are running down her cheeks, making his heart twist when he sees them.
“Lydia I-” He takes a deep breath. “Sorry kid I - um we’re - I talked to Dr. Lori on the phone.”
“M-More needles?” Lydia whimpers.
“I don’t know.” He says. “But we have to go to the hospital okay? They’re going to - to make sure you’re okay.”
“Wh-why do we have to go now?” Lydia whines.
“Because - Because something might be wrong with your blood.” He grapples for a child friendly way to explain what's running through his head.
“Wrong with my blood?” Lydia sounds confused now. “What's wrong with my blood?”
“We - we don’t know.” Daryl says, a half truth but he’ll think of a better explanation later. “But we have to go to the hospital to find out okay?”
“So… we’re not going to Carl’s?” Lydia pouts, her lower lip sticking out. “We’re going to the hospital to see Dr. Lori?”
“We’re going to the hospital, but we’re not going to see Dr. Lori.” He says quietly. “We’re going to see a different doctor. A special doctor.”
“A special doctor?” Lydia’s voice is shaky. Wariness of doctors was nothing new, she’d been picked over by a dozen of them taking photos and records for evidence against her mother. “Like - like the one who took the pictures?”
“No.” Daryl says heavily. “Not like that. This is a doctor for your blood.”
“A doctor for my blood.” She mutters.
“Yeah. We’re gonna go check your blood.” He nods.
“And then we can go home?”
“And then we can go home.” He hopes to hell it isn’t a lie. Lydia turns her face away from him to look out the window, the evening sun catching the tears on her cheeks and making them shimmer. She doesn’t say anything so Daryl turns back around, puts the car in drive and starts off towards the hospital.
Children’s Healthcare of Atlanta is only 20 minutes from where they live, he’d driven by thousands of times - even been in a few times when a case warranted it - but he’d never really seen it. It’s a big building with a large swooping glass overhang leading up to the emergency room entrance and brightly colored stick figured logo printed on one of the outer walls. Daryl finds himself staring at one of the parking spaces labeled “emergency room parking”. Did he go there? Or all the way to long term parking? Did it matter? He could move the car later he decides, pulling into the spot and unbuckling his seat belt.
“Ready kiddo?” Daryl says, turning to Lydia.
Lydia shakes her head, her wide brown eyes watching him in terror. “I don’t want to Daddy.”
“I know, kid.” He says, stepping out of the car and opening her door. “Want me to carry you?” Lydia nods and unbuckles her seatbelt, holding her arms out for him to lift her from the seat. He picks up the duffle bag, sliding it over one arm and then picks up Lydia, closing the car door he hears the automatic click as he turns and starts for the hospital.
The ER is fairly unbusy, a couple of coughing kids and their worried parents, and a single receptionist sitting behind the desk.
“Hello Sir how can I help you?” He can’t help but feel that the woman's voice is far too chipper and enthusiastic for the ER of a children’s hospital.
“I - I um - I was told to bring my daughter here.” Daryl’s mouth is suddenly very dry and his throat tight.
“Okay, what’s your daughter’s name?” The woman's bright smile just won’t fade will it?
“Uh, Lydia. Lydia Dixon, we were told they were waiting for us here.” He mutters, was he in the right place? There were three of these hospitals spread throughout the city after all. Had he come to the wrong one?
She clicks on the computer a few times and recognition sparks in her eyes, and then ever so slightly, her smile falters. “Oh, yes Dr. Rhee informed us you’d be coming. If you’d just go over to bed 4, the nurse will come take vitals and I'll tell Dr. Rhee you’re here. Fill out this paperwork while you wait okay?” She holds out a clipboard.
“Lyd, you take that?” Daryl’s out of hands to take the clipboard with. Lydia lifts her head off his shoulder and removes one arm from around his neck to take the clipboard with.
“Is Dr. Rhee nice?” Lydia asks as she takes the clipboard from the receptionist.
“Dr. Rhee is very nice.” The receptionist assures. “You’ll love her.”
“Good.” Lydia mutters, putting her head back down on Daryl’s shoulder as they walk over to bed 4. He sets her down on the bed, drops the duffle bag in one of the chairs and pulls the curtains closed around the bed for privacy. Lydia sits limply in the middle of the bed and he looks at her, properly, for the first time since he got that phone call.
How could he not see it before? She was pale, circles rimming her eyes, and she kept yawning in spite of her long nap this afternoon. Had she looked like this for a long time? Or was he only thinking she did because of what Lori had said?
Daryl picks up the clipboard from where Lydia had dropped it on the bed and sits down to look at the questions. Some of it was easy, name, date of birth, blood type, vaccine history. But some of it was harder;
Does your child have a family history of medical or psychiatric issues? If yes, what relation and what diagnosis?
He didn’t know. Evil her mother may have been, but as far as a medical history went? He had no idea. He didn’t know anything about her before age four, when he’d been called to the ER to get the evidence. He licks his lips and scrawls ‘ unknown’ in the space following the question and moving on to the rest of the form. He doesn’t really have anyone to put as an emergency contact but he scrawls Rick and Michonne’s numbers in the provided spacing, he’ll clear it with them later. He skips the questions about menstruation - she was too young for that - and stops at the question;
Why have you brought your child to the ER today?
His mouth is very dry again, and he looks over to the bed where Lydia is sat. She was halfway in between pajamas and dinner clothes - jeans underneath her nightgown - and her hair was still a mess. She’s staring quietly at the blue curtain, her eyes glazed over, not making a peep or complaining about being bored, a large bruise peeking out underneath the strap of the nightgown.
The question taunts him on the page, and with shaky handwriting he writes ‘ Leukemia’ The word is bolder and darker then the rest of the words on the page.
“Knock knock!” A voice calls from outside the curtain, making Lydia jump.
“Come - come in.” Daryl says, reaching for Lydia’s hand and giving it a squeeze. A nurse in bright pink scrubs with white hearts on them slips past the curtain.
“Hi Miss Lydia.” The nurse smiles. “I’m Nurse Andrea.”
“Hi.” Lydia mutters.
“Can you hold out your arm for me?” The nurse asks, reaching for the equally brightly colored blood pressure cuff. Lydia eyes it warily, but extends her arm. The nurse, Andrea, puts it around her arm. “And stick out your tongue?” She goes for a thermometer, which Lydia lets be slid into her mouth. “And point your finger?” And on the pulse oximeter slides. “Thank you Lydia.” To Daryl she turns and says “I can take those forms for you.”
“Thanks.” He mutters, handing her the clipboard. The monitors beep and off comes the pulse oximeter and blood pressure cuff, and out comes the thermometer.
“Okay Miss Lydia you’re running just a little bit of a temperature but we’re going to let Dr. Rhee take a look at you before giving anything. Dad do you have any questions?” She turns to Daryl, looking at him expectantly.
“Yeah uh, when uh - when will Dr. Rhee be down? And - what uh - what do we do from -from here?” He rubs his chin with one hand.
“Well,” The nurse says carefully. “From here Dr. Rhee will run more tests to confirm the diagnosis, and then you’ll be admitted to the Oncology floor. Is Mom coming? Should we wait a bit?”
Daryl shakes his head. “Nah, ‘s just me. I jus’ - i jus’ wan’ her t’ be okay.”
“You’re in very good hands. I’ll go run these forms and Dr. Rhee will be right in.” Nurse Andrea says with a smile, turning from them and slipping back out of the curtained area.
They wait almost an hour for Dr. Rhee, and Daryl finds himself growing more and more antsy. Lydia doesn’t seem to mind, she sits quietly and watches videos on the Ipad. Daryl meanwhile half heartedly answers texts from Lori, Shane, Rick, and Michonne. He even hears from his boss, telling him not to worry and focus on Lydia - which is good, because he hasn’t thought about work a single moment since that phone call from Lori.
“Hello?” a voice calls from beyond the curtain. “Can I come in?”
“Yeah um - sorry yeah.” Daryl says quickly, standing up.
Daryl isn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he thought of Dr. Rhee but it definitely wasn’t the person standing in front of him. Dr. Rhee had shoulder length brown hair, green eyes, and looked to be about six months pregnant. She was smiling at him and Lydia and holding her hand out. She wasn’t the cool clinical figure he imagined a pediatric oncologist to be, she was warm and welcoming. He shakes her hand.
“I’m Daryl, this is Lydia.” He says, watching Dr. Rhee shake Lydia’s hand.
“Well it’s nice t’ meet ya both.” Dr. Rhee isn’t from Atlanta, he can tell that much from her accent, she’s from somewhere rural, somewhere like he was from. “I’m Maggie Rhee, Lori told you you’d be coming. Now Miss Lydia,” She pulls up a stool, taking a squirt of the hand sanitizer from the wall as she does. “What brings you here today?”
“I’m sick with bad blood.” Lydia says, watching Dr. Rhee warily as she feels the lymph nodes on Lydia’s neck.
“Well you’re lucky then.” Dr. Rhee smiles. “I happen to be the best at treating bad blood. Now can I borrow your daddy for a moment?”
“Uh-huh.” Lydia nods. “But I want bunny first.”
“Alright kiddo.” Daryl opens the duffle bag and pulls the worn, stuffed rabbit from inside. “There ya go, there’s bunny.” She takes it and lays back down on the bed, letting Daryl step outside the curtain without so much as a murmur.
Dr. Rhee leads him a few feet away to a row of empty chairs. “I took a look at Lydia’s bloodwork and I believe Dr. Grimes was right, she has Leukemia.”
“Okay.” He nods. “What- what does that mean?”
“Well, tonight we’re going to go ahead and admit her to Oncology, and in the morning we’re going to do a Bone Marrow Biopsy, this will tell us what kind of Leukemia lydia has and allow us to make a good treatment plan she’ll als-”
“Type of Leukemia?” Daryl interrupts. “There’s types of Leukemia?”
“Yes.” Dr. Rhee says. “There’s several types. Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, Acute Myeloid Leukemia, Chronic Lymphoblastic Leukemia, Chronic Myeloid Leukemia, and Juvenile Myelomonocytic Leukemia. We know Lydia has one of the Acute types, most likely Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia, it accounts for 75% of all childhood leukemiads. There’s also subtypes of that, but those are more complicated, I can tell you about them but I do think it would be better to wait until after the bone marrow biopsy so we have a better idea what we’re dealing with.”
“There’s - what?” Daryl manages. “And and what’s a bone marrow biopsy what - what are you going to do to my daughter?”
“There are subtypes. But I don’t want you to worry about that right now.” Dr. Rhee says, her voice calm but strong. “A Bone Marrow Biopsy is where we drill a hole into her pelvic bone and take a sample of the bone marrow, that way we can test it for leukemia cells and find out which subtype we’re dealing with.”
“You’re going to drill a hole in her pelvis?” His head is spinning. “She - she’s eight.”
“She’s going to be anesthetized, because at the same time we’re going to do a lumbar puncture with chemo and put in a PICC line.” She explains.
“A - a what? You don’t even know what kind of Leukemia she has and you’re going to give her chemo during surgery?” He asks, trying to process what was said to him.
“A lumbar puncture with chemo, we’re going to sample her spinal fluid and inject chemotherapy drugs into her spinal fluid. We do this with all leukemia patients regardless of type. We’re also placing a PICC line. That’s a line that runs from the upper arm into the heart. We can change this to a Port-a-cath at a later date but for the time being a PICC line will be easiest.” She explains.
Daryl can’t even think straight anymore, all he sees are the words, Chemo, Bone Marrow, Leukemia, PICC, Cancer. Cancer. Cancer, running across his brain. Finally he swallows. “Okay - okay and - and you’ll - you do all of this?”
“No.” She says. “Well, I do some of it. I’ll do the biopsy and the lumbar puncture. But the general surgeon will place the PICC line. He’s my husband actually and he’s very good at what he does. I promise.”
“Okay.” He swallows. “Okay. This - this is a lot.”
“I know.” Dr. Rhee offers a supportive smile and reaches out to squeeze his hands. “Is your wife coming?”
“I uh - I don’t have a wife.” He says. “‘S jus’ me. Lydia’s mom - she’s - well I adopted her. ‘S just us.”
“Okay.” Dr. Rhee nods slowly. “The hospital has a support group for parents of children with cancer. It’s run by a woman who was a single mom during her daughter's cancer treatment. Is it alright if I give her a call?”
“Sure.” The robotic reply comes, but now along with the word Cancer and Leukemia is another thought. There are enough kids with this for a support group - and enough single parents that Dr. Rhee knew one off the top of her head.
“Alright.” Dr. Rhee says. “Her name is Carol Peletier, I’ll give her a call and then put you in touch with the group. Does that work?”
“Yeah.” He breathes.
“Then how about you go sit with Lydia, a nurse will be down soon to take you up to your room.” Dr. Rhee stands and offers a supportive smile. “Your daughter is in good hands Mr. Dixon. And you obviously care a lot. That’s good, Lydia’s gonna need that.”
The room they end up in, room 324, has a large window looking over the city, it’s dark now and the street lights have lit up the city like a million fireflies. Lydia scowls as the nurse hands her a hospital gown.
“Do i have to put this on?” Lydia frowns.
“Probably baby girl.” Daryl sighs, “come on, get yer stuff off an’ put it on. Then ya can get int’ bed.”
“I don’t want to sleep.” Lydia pouts. “I’m hungry daddy.”
Daryl checks his watch, it was almost 10pm and they hadn’t eaten yet. Christ where had the hours gone. “Let me ask the nurse if we can get somethin’ t’ eat okay?”
“Okay.” Lydia sighs, climbing up into the bed.
Daryl opens the door to find a nurse standing right in front of him. “Oh uh - sorry.” eh mutters. “I was um - we wanted to know if I can get her something to eat.”
“Well Dr. Rhee wants her started on antibiotics for the fever, but we can get you a wheelchair for her and you can take her to the cafeteria.” the nurse says.
“The - oh right.” he frowns, she had had a fever. “Why antibiotics?”
“Just incase it’s an infection, it’s a high risk with Leukemia patients. We’ll start them via IV.” The nurse explains.
“IV.” That would go over like a lead balloon. She hated needles.
“It’s the fastest way to get them.” The nurse explains. “But then you can take her for food or have it brought here.”
“Okay.” Daryl nods, turning back into the room. Lydia is watching him suspiciously from the bed. “Lyd, we gotta give you some medicine.”
“What kind of medicine?” Lydia frowns.
“Medicine for your fever.” Daryl says, sitting on the edge of the bed. “They gotta use a needle but it won’t hurt, you can sit on my lap the whole time.”
“Th-the whole time?” Lydia mutters, licking her lips nervously.
“The whole time.” He agrees.
Lydia climbs into his lap and watches the nurse - who introduces herself as Sasha - prepare the IV line. “Daddy I don’t want to.”
“I know baby girl.” Daryl sighs, pressing a kiss to the top of her hair.
“You know what helps sometimes?” Sasha says, wiping Lydia’s arm with an alcohol wipe. “Singing. Do you know any songs?”
“Row your boat.” Lydia mutters.
“Okay.” Sasha says. “Then how about you close your eyes and you sing me the whole thing, and by the time you’re done, the IV will be in and the needle will be gone okay?”
“Okay.” Lydia muttered, closing her eyes. “Row, row, row your boat…”
Daryl can’t watch, so he looks instead outside the window that leads to the corridor. He can see the nurses station for the floor from here. There’s a little bald boy in a hospital gown, clutching an IV pole and smirking devilishly as he peers around the station corner. As he does a black man with long dreadlocks comes around the corner, scooping him up and tickling him. Daryl can’t hear it from here but he can see the little boy erupt into giggles as he’s swept off his feet and tickled.
They look out of place the man and the boy, laughing and tickling on a cancer ward, but Daryl is mesmerized. He watched the man put the boy on his shoulder, grab the rolling IV pole and start down the hall, still laughing. How can they both be laughing so hard? The little boy especially seems consumed by laughter, clinging to the man’s dreadlocks as they walk past the window, he can hear the giggles as they pass, the little boys voice cutting through the air;
“You found me daddy! You found me!”
#twd#the walking dead#twd fanfic#caryl#caryl fanfic#daryl dixon#carol peletier#lydia twd#king ezekiel#fic; swim
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A Symphony without Strings, Chapter 1
Author’s Notes: as ever, I have music selections for you if you care to listen. As you might guess from the title, music will weave its way in and out of the plot and the characters’ lives, the way they speak, and what they do. For this opening, I have two pieces for you. The first is https://youtu.be/ohQSPR0Z1zM, and the secondhttps://youtu.be/srq45XPUNqM is which is quite short.
*** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***
Tom received a terse text from Luke:
Take the call, twat.
He answered with, “Rude. I wasn’t avoiding you, you hadn’t even rang yet...”
Luke had no time for pleasantries. “What are you doing right now?”
“Well, I was...”
“Cancel it. I need you in my office. Now.”
Tom was bewildered. “Luke, what the hell? I have plans for the afternoon, I was...”
“And I said cancel them, and get your ass in here. Now!”
Tom was left staring at his phone. Luke had hung up.
He had just finished cleaning up after his morning run, and was preparing to spend the day with his mother and sister, working in their garden. They were not going to be best pleased about his backing out. He sighed before he rang them, and decided to have them vent all their spleen at Luke. He would make sure they had his personal mobile number. There was no way he was going to take the fall for whatever had Luke’s boxers in a twist this time. His conscience was clean. There had been no incidents with wine, women, or song.
Quite depressing, really. He needed to get out more.
Once he arrived, he was aware that everyone was avoiding his eyes. Usually there was an air of bonhomie in the office, and he enjoyed the camaraderie. But the tension could be cut with a knife now, and his stomach twisted. What was going on, he hadn’t done anything!
In desperation, he turned to Luke’s executive assistant. “Come on, Carlotta, help a bloke out. Everyone is behaving like I was caught buggering a sheep on the BBC. What in the devil is going on?”
She shook her head and sighed. “Luke is on the warpath, and everyone is seeking deep shelter. Just go on in, he’s waiting for you. And Tom? I know all sheep are safe with you.” She gave him a sympathetic smile. “I’d offer you tea, but...just...go on in.”
Once Tom shut the door behind him, she murmured, “This goes well beyond a cup of Earl Grey.”
Tom entered Luke’s office, demanding, “What the hell, Luke? Your office is behaving like I’m persona non grata, Carlotta said you have your staff looking for a fallout shelter...and I haven’t done a single thing wrong. Not one thing. I’ve been living the life of a fucking monk. I get up, I go to work, I go home. I run, I walk my dog. I visit my family. Why are you glaring at me like this?”
Luke said through gritted teeth, “What is the one thing I have asked of you from the beginning, Tom? The one thing I have begged you not to do, the one thing I have repeatedly warned you against?”
“Not to sing ‘The Bare Necessities’ after I’ve had too much to drink?” Tom quipped.
Luke’s glare deepened to the point that the mild mannered man looked almost demonic.
Tom sighed. “Not to have some woman arrive at your doorstep claiming she’s knocked up. But that is impossible, Luke. I haven’t been with anyone. In months. Christ, it’s absolutely humiliating to think about how long it’s been since I’ve gotten laid, thank you very much. I just can’t take the chance. Obviously someone has come out of the woodwork, claiming that I’m her baby daddy, but whoever the female in question is, she’s a very bad liar, and thank you for thinking so little of me. You should have done your homework better before losing your mind...”
“Let’s hit the way back machine, Tom,” Luke interrupted, his voice a deadly calm. “Five years ago. You were filming and met a young woman who was working as an extra while studying music at the local university. Her name was...”
“Meredith Skye...Merry,” Tom whispered, in shock, as memories came flooding back to him.
He had met Merry at the canteen as they both shivered, getting a cup of tea. It was bitterly cold that day. He thought the way she’d smiled at him and then looked down and away was adorable, although he knew better than to say so. He followed her with his eyes as she took her cup and walked away. Later, he approached her and offered to take her out for a coffee or tea, and she agreed. It was the beginning of an intense but short lived relationship. Both of them knew there was no future for them. She was in graduate school, hoping to be a conductor someday. She as proficient in piano, violin, and a brilliant cellist. It gave Tom the greatest pleasure to watch her perform pieces in her tiny rowhouse, sometimes in the nude, after they had lain in her small bed together...A tiny woman, Tom used to joke her cello would crush her someday...he would get lost in her music, and her eyes...she had such a sweetly lush form, to her despair. He loved that she wasn’t rail-thin, he would praise her, claiming that she had a figure that Titian would have immortalized had he seen her...Tom loved her wild, curly red hair, and her clear blue eyes that he could lose himself in as he lost himself in her body. It was such a wrench when he had to leave, but they both knew it had to be...she could not, would not, leave her studies. She was so close to her degree, so close to attaining her dream, as she was performing more and more, and her talents were being admired and even requested in very high circles...and he had to continue filming. They didn’t even consider trying to keep in touch, but felt it best to accept that theirs was a beautiful, idyllic moment in time. They were young, and had their lives ahead of them.
“No strings.” That was their understanding from the beginning, and sometimes even said with an ironic smile, as Merry would caress her instruments, and he would caress her as she played them...
“I don’t understand,” Tom shook his head. “Why would she get in touch with you now...and why are you talking about babies popping up? Merry and I were careful, and anyway, that was ages ago. We parted as friends.”
Luke’s voice was stern. “She wanted to just give you this letter.” He slid it across his desk. “I strongly advised that she speak to you, in person.”
“Merry’s here? Right now?” Tom’s head spun around, as he searched the empty office. “Where is she?” A pleased smile was on his face at the thought of seeing her again. He’d missed her.
“Which would you prefer, Tom? The letter, or to hear it from her own lips?”
Tom took a deep breath. “I really cared for Merry. If she wanted to tell me in a letter, then I will honor her wishes.”
Luke’s face could not be more disapproving, his lips pursed in a frown, but he slid the envelope towards Tom, who eagerly opened it.
Dear Tom,
I hope this finds you well. I have been following your career avidly, and I have been so very proud to see you go from strength to strength. I have kept our trysting close to my heart, even as I have longed to crow to all I see, “I know this man! He is just as amazing in person as he is on screen! He deserves every accolade, every word of praise...he is truly the best, most accomplished thespian of our age.”
Since we parted, I finished my degree, and was able to achieve my dream: I was honored to be the conductor of the Baltimore Symphony Orchestra. I enjoyed every moment, and confess that I was ever looking upward, hoping to move to an even more prestigious company. You know me, always looking for a bigger brass ring, even while reveling in what I have. Ambition, how we spent many hours talking about it, remember?
However, there are a couple of things that changed in my life, and they are the reasons that I have broken my promise to not contact you again, and once you hear them, I think you will understand, and I pray you will even forgive me.
The first, and most important. I do not know how to tell you this, Tom, so I will simply come out and say it, and I ask you to please sit down.
Tom, you are a father. You have a son.
Tom stopped reading. Stopped breathing. He looked up at Luke, completely stricken.
“That...this is impossible. It can’t be. We always used protection, always. Luke, I cared about her, I wouldn’t put her in that situation...”
“Keep reading,” Luke ordered, his voice and face implacable.
I understand your shock and disbelief. I felt just the same when I realized that my symptoms were not some bizarre flu but the signs of pregnancy. The only explanation I can come up with is that night we spent in front of the fire when you were very...playful, before you actually put the condom on...? I don’t know, Tom, that’s my best guess. I will have Liam available for any paternity test that you wish to have run to validate my claim...but I think once you see him, you will know without a doubt that he is yours. Nevertheless, I understand the importance of having the legal proprieties observed.
Liam’s arrival only slowed my stride, he did not stop me. I simply took him along, and I daresay he has not suffered for the ride. He has definitely acquired a taste for music, that’s for sure! At four years of age, he can play simple tunes on both the piano and violin, but I let him set his own pace. He isn’t pressured into anything, I won’t have it. Of course it goes without saying that he is the most brilliant boy that ever was, walking at seven months, talking fluently by fifteen months...but I won’t bore you with my proud mama babble. I have given a photo to Luke so you may see it if and when you are ready.
When he was born, I did not list you as the father. Perhaps that was wrong of me, I don’t know. What I do know is when we parted, it was meant to be for good, and our mantra was, “No strings.” A child is not a string, it is a cable, and I did not wish to inflict such upon you. It didn’t seem fair. You didn’t ask for this. I refused to tie you to me when we had agreed to part and go our separate ways.
So, why am I contacting you now? This brings me to the second reason.
I’m afraid I’ve gone and gotten leukemia, Tom.
For the second time, Tom stopped reading, the air sucked out of his lungs. “Merry. Merry, no,” he gasped. As much as he was shocked with the first revelation, this one hurt his heart. He had cared deeply for the bright young woman, and the thought of her being mortally ill, her light being diminished and perhaps ultimately leaving the world, was a knife to his soul. He looked at Luke. “You did see her, right? Did she look all right? Does she need anything? I mean, is there...”
Luke interrupted. “Keep reading.”
Tom returned to the letter, anguished.
My prognosis is 50-50. I am hopeful, but I also have to be realistic. Should I not be able to beat this, I have to make sure that Liam is taken care of, and I could not in good conscience give his care to another without telling his father about his existence first.
I am not foisting his care upon you. I am not asking you for a single thing—not child support, not acknowledgment, anything. Tom, you must understand this. All choices are yours. If you would Iike to be a part of his life, that does not mean you have to be an intimate part of mine by extension, whether I live another month or a hundred years. I simply cannot let this situation continue. You can be as deeply involved as you wish. The decision is solely at your discretion.
Please forgive me for the decisions that I made. I always made them with love, with your best interests in my heart. I have always wished you well, and still do.
Sincerely yours,
Meredith Skye
Shaken, Tom lowered the letter. It was handwritten, on pale blue stationery. Of course, Merry would not have something so personal typed on plain white paper. That was not her style.
“May I see the photo?” Tom asked quietly.
Luke slid over another small envelope. It contained a professionally printed wallet sized photograph.
Tom swallowed hard, and looked, heart roaring in his ears.
It could have been a photo of himself, when he was the same age.
A smiling young boy sat on a chair, with a bear in his lap. He had blonde hair, with a touch of red, cut short but you could see the tips were trying to curl. He had his mother’s clear cerulean eyes, and an open, brilliant smile...but Tom could see his features clearly stamped on the little boy’s face.
A storm of emotions were warring in his breast, but all he could think to say was, “Well, hello, there, Liam. I’m your dad.”
Luke remained silent, even as tears coursed down his best client’s, his best friend’s, face.
Tom scrutinized the photo, looking at the child’s hands (long fingers like mine, if he wants to keep up with his music studies that can only be to his advantage), his legs (I can’t see how long they are in the photo, is he going to be a bean pole too?), his ears (ah, sorry, kid).
Tom looked up and hoarsely asked, “Is Merry here? May I see her?”
“She’s in the conference room,” Luke replied. “She wasn’t certain you would wish to see her. I was certain you would. I was also certain if she left the building, you would go haring off after her and God knows what kind of public scene you would create, so I implored her to stay here and wait for you, which is why I was so adamant you come right away.”
“She’s been there all this time, Luke, that’s uncalled for...!” Tom stood up immediately.
“Stop it, Tom,” Luke stood as well. “I made sure to keep her very comfortable, complete with every refreshment she wouldn’t ask for, and had both a sofa and recliner brought in for her comfort. Come. I’ll bring you to her.”
Like a chastened child, Tom allowed himself to be led from Luke’s office to the conference room, feeling simultaneously as though he was being brought to the headmaster’s office from his past, and about to see his future, all at one go.
Luke opened the door, and stepped aside.
“You’re not coming in with...?”
“Oh, no,” Luke replied grimly. “This is all yours. It’s your life, your decision. I just get to spin it.”
Tom squared his shoulders and walked in, thinking in the recesses of his mind if he had any idea how momentous this morning? afternoon? was going to be, he would have dressed for it. A white button up and black jeans hardly seemed appropriate for this.
Once the door was shut, he looked around, and still saw no one.
“Merry,” he called out softly.
“Tom.”
She stepped out from behind the room’s divider. “I didn’t know who would come in, so I thought it best I slip behind here, just in case.”
As much as Tom had been hit with revelation after revelation, this one was the cruelest.
Merry was but a shadow of how he remembered her. A bright head covering failed to conceal that her glorious head of hair was gone. Her face was pasty white, and her clothes hung on her frail frame. Her once bright smile was tremulous.
“Are you just going to stand there, then?” Her voice was also less sure, not the confident, laughing one that he remembered so fondly.
He crossed the room in four quick strides, and took her into his arms gently but firmly.
“Merry,” he whispered brokenly. “I can’t take everything in yet, but seeing you like this is hardest to fathom.”
“Oh, I know I look...different,” she laughed, and he wasn’t fooled for a moment.
“It’s not that, I just can’t bear to think of you hurting...Come, sit down, and let’s talk,” he urged her.
Merry had been in agony ever since Luke had left her in the room to await either his return, or Tom’s arrival. She had no way of knowing which it would be. The Tom she had bid farewell to had been nothing but warm, tender, and generous, and she hoped that he had remained the same, but it was impossible to say. With his skyrocketing fame, and fairly disastrous love affairs, she could easily see where he might no longer be so. She had sent a missive to Luke’s office, requesting a private meeting with him with regards to her past association with Tom, assuring the publicist she meant Tom no harm and no scandal, but it was important she get in touch him as soon as possible. She gave her name, and the dates and location that they had been together, hoping it would be enough to prove she was legitimately connected to Tom at one point, and not being deceitful. Apparently it was enough, for Luke got back to her swiftly, albeit tersely. Well, she could understand it. She explained she was in the area, and wished to drop off a letter. All she wanted was his word he ensure Tom receive it. Luke was quite firm she come into the office, even to the point of sending a car for her. Once she arrived, she was ushered into his private office. She could tell her appearance took him aback. Hell, it took herself aback, she looked like death on toast these days. She had just gotten the okay to travel after another round of chemotherapy, and she still flew wearing a mask, not that she had any faith in them.
Once she gave him the letter, he skillfully extracted the nature of the contents, and sighed. Merry hastened to reassure Luke that there was no incipient scandal, she was not about to sue for child support, paternity, anything. She simply wanted to let Tom know of his son’s existence. End of story.
“Mr. Windsor...”
“Luke,” he reminded her again.
“I implore you trust me. I know you must meet all sorts of people, with all sorts of agendas, and many of them self-serving. I have nothing but Tom’s best interests at heart. I would never do a thing to hurt him, or his career. The time we spent together was very special, and I hold those memories close to my heart. We parted as friends and I would never do anything to hurt him, it would be like hurting myself. I just cannot take the chance of my health deteriorating and him not knowing, any longer. If he wants to continue his life as it is, then so be it, and no hard feelings. If I had talked with him about Liam from the beginning, that would be one thing...but I didn’t. I took that decision away from him. I take full responsibility. If Tom would Iike to see Liam from a distance, well, all I would ask is that he not hurt or confuse him by being in and out of his life. I don’t see Tom doing that to a child, not with his own background...anything more than that, is his decision.”
“What if Tom should decide to battle you for full custody?”
Merry had grown even whiter, as impossible as it seemed.
“I will cross that bridge when, and if, I come to it,” was her reply. “I would hope it would not come to it.”
“He has more resources than you,” Luke pressed on. “After all, he is well known, and certainly enjoys popular opinion, the Internet’s Boyfriend and all that. He has quite an enviable bank account. The fact that you hid his child from him, well, I’m afraid that it would not look good for you. Combined with your ill health...perhaps it would be best if you, and your letter, simply walk away. Of course, I can help you with any expenses you may have occurred with your journey here, all you would have to do is name the figure...?”
Merry had leaned back, appalled.
“I don’t want to name a figure, I never wanted money, any money. You’re disgusting, Mr. Windsor. I have enough of my own money, and I cannot buy my health back, at any price. My request remains as is was when I approached you. Please just give the letter to Tom. Shit, have him read it in your presence to ensure it says as I’ve told you, or better yet, give me another envelope, I’ll open this one so you can read it yourself and I’ll seal it in another to give to Tom, and then I’m gone.”
Luke leaned back in his chair, and actually smiled for the first time.
“Congratulations, Merry.”
“What?”
“You pass.”
Tom was livid.
“I am going to kill him,” he vowed.
“You will do no such thing. He protects you, Tom. And I daresay he does it not because you are his client, but because you are his friend, and he cares about you. After all,” Merry paused, and looked down and away, in a gesture that Tom remembered painfully well, “you are very easy to care about.”
Tom leaned forward and took her hands in his. “Tell me about Liam.”
“Before I do, do you understand why I made the decision I did?”
Tom looked deeply into her eyes. “No. Yes. I don’t know, I...I want to say no, Merry, I really do. I want to say you had no right to keep him from me, I would have stuck by you, you must have known that. I could have been a part of his life from the very beginning, I could have been there when he took his first breath, I could have been there for you. What was it like for you, going through it alone? Did you have any help, any support at all? I know your family was a non-starter.”
“I managed.”
“I would have helped, though,” he earnestly replied. “You know that...”
“Tom, think. What I know is during that time, you were busy non-stop. You were shooting, doing film promotion tours...I was paying attention, believe me. Every time I thought, this is it, I cannot, I can’t do this alone anymore, I would stop and look to see where you were, and I saw it would be the height of selfishness to drag you away from your work.”
“It took both of us to create Liam,” he reproached her. “And, as you commented, it probably was my carelessness that made the situation possible.”
“Yes, and it was my decision to keep said situation going,” she responded evenly. “There was no way, no way at all, I could reject our child. Not as long as I had breath. Was the timing convenient, no, but...”
“So why does it get to be inconvenient for you, but not for me?” Now Tom was becoming agitated.
Merry shrugged, her expression rueful. “Biology, Tom.”
Tom snorted, unable to argue her point. Merry always did have a trenchant wit. And when he stopped to think about the time frame she referenced, she was absolutely correct. Should she had reached out to him during her pregnancy, would he have been excited? Pleased? It was a safe bet to say his response, at least at first, would have been one of blind panic and agitation, rather than acceptance and support. (His first response would likely have been, “Luke is going to kill me!”) Merry knew it, and had acted accordingly. She had protected him at her expense. It wasn’t fair, but he understood.
“I don’t like it, Merry, but I understand. Thank you, for coming to me now. Please know what Luke said would never, will never, come to pass. I would put ground glass in my tea before I tried to take Liam from you.”
Merry felt an enormous weight fall from her shoulders. “Thank you, Tom, for saying so. I didn’t imagine you would, but thank you just the same.”
“What about you, Merry? What can be done for you?”
She looked away from him, and Tom gently took her chin to guide her face to force her eyes to meet his again. “Please, darling. Seeing you this ill breaks my heart. What is being done for you? Is there someone in your life now, someone who is giving you the love and care you deserve?”
Merry broke away from his gaze once more. “Damn you, Tom. Always with the difficult questions.”
“How are these difficult questions?”
“You asked them before, you know. ‘Where is your family? What do you mean, they abandoned you, who could ever abandon a treasure like you?’ I remember, Tom.”
He wrapped his arms around her more and gently guided her head to his shoulder, hearing the slight tremor in her voice. She hated to cry, loathed dropping her guard unless she felt absolutely safe. Once upon a time she had felt such with him, but... “I remember, too. It’s still me, you know. Your Tom. I know how you insist on doing everything you can alone, rather than ask for a single bit of help. So I ask again...is there anyone in your life, Merry? I promise not to be jealous. Much.”
She laughed a bit. “No, no one. I was seeing a flutist for awhile. Dreadful mistake that was. Never date a flutist, Tom. The ego, dear God.”
“Noted,” he gravely agreed. “Did you fly here from Baltimore, then?”
“New York, actually. I’ve been going to Sloan Kettering for my treatment. There’s been some breakthrough protocols there and my physician at Johns Hopkins referred me. As soon as it was safe for me to travel, I left.”
“Alone, then.”
“Not alone, exactly,” she hedged. “I did have some travel companions.”
“And those would be...”
He felt her take a deep breath as she sat back to look at him steadily. “Clara, my healthcare provider. Sloan Kettering insisted that I be followed because of the clinical trial I’m in, you see...”
Tom nodded slowly, a sick feeling in his stomach. He hadn’t realized until now her treatment was experimental. It did not bode well for her, the fact she was placed in an experimental treatment, that standard care was no longer a viable option.
“I am glad you aren’t alone,” he replied simply.
“And...” she faltered.
“And,” he gently prompted.
“Aiden...”
“How does Aiden help you?”
“Aiden isn’t here for me, exactly.” She closed her eyes, then opened them again. “Aiden is here for Liam. He’s Liam’s tutor, music coach, and wrangler.”
Tom was stunned. “Liam is here? In London?”
Merry gave a very slight nod. “I never go anywhere without him, Tom. Yes, Liam is here. Right now,” she checked her watch, “they are flying kites in Regent’s Park. Or feeding ducks. Liam loves to feed ducks.”
Once more, Tom’s heart was roaring in his ears. “Can I...may I see him? Meet him?”
She leaned back into the sofa, doing her best not to wince. It was shaping up to be a long day, and Merry was exhausted. “I don’t know, Tom. How do you want to meet him? As a friend of his mother’s? Then yes, certainly. As his long lost father? Then I’m not so sure.”
Tom’s eyes snapped with anger. “Why not?”
Ah, there was the temper she recalled. “Because this isn’t a ‘try before you buy’ situation, Tom.”
“How can you dare say that to me?”
With his rage, the door came open. Tom’s head snapped around, to glare at Luke. “Eavesdropping, then?”
“Please,” Luke rolled his eyes. “Although with that last bellow, I’ve no doubt the entire floor heard you. I opened without knocking when I heard you lose your temper, yes, but I was coming to remind you that Merry is undoubtedly weary and to ask her if she would like to be escorted back to her hotel. If she wants your sorry self to accompany her, then no accounting for taste. If she would to rest for awhile first, I can arrange for a discreet location for you to meet later. If an intermediary is a good idea, I am happy to offer myself, or...”
Tom hung his head. “That won’t be necessary. My apologies, Merry.”
“All is well, Tom. Truly. I should not have been flippant with you. So much has been thrown at you today.”
As both Luke and Tom looked at Merry, they could see how very tired and uncomfortable she looked. Tom spoke diffidently. “Merry, where are you staying?”
When she told him, Tom and Luke exchanged a look.
Luke spoke quietly. “Merry, that is a lovely establishment, and I am ready to have a car drive you back so you can get some rest. But I would Iike to offer you an alternative, at least for awhile. Prosper has a suite on retainer here in the city, and I can get you and Tom there easily, where you can continue your discussion without being worried about being seen by photographers. In fact, if you choose, I can have the rest of your party moved there at your convenience, if you will require any...future meetings to take place.”
Merry’s smile was growing wan at this stage. “Luke, I truly appreciate it, but I need to return to my suite. I have my medications there, and it will be time for my next doses soon.” Tom was crestfallen at her reply, and looked hopefully at Luke, who took a deep breath.
“I will be in touch with you soon then. I have your number, and you have mine. Please do not hesitate to contact me, should you need anything, and I do mean anything, no matter how small.” Luke held out his hand, and ignored Tom’s bristling as he helped Merry to her feet. Both men couldn’t help but notice how she was shaking upon rising. “Dear lady,” Luke murmured sympathetically. “I will help you to the car.”
Tom opened his mouth only for Luke to cut him off. “No, Tom, you most emphatically will not escort Ms. Skye to the vehicle. We are keeping this quiet, remember?”
Pressing his lip into a thin line, Tom quickly circumvented Luke to stand before Merry. “May I have your contact information, at least? And give you mine?”
“I have it in hand, Tom,” Luke scolded him. “She’s exhausted already. Let me get her to the car. I’ll be back shortly.”
Tom leaned forward and kissed Merry gently on her cheek. “You will hear from me soon. I am not going to let you escape from me so easily, Meredith Skye.”
The flush and smile she gave him was the same as the one from years ago, and made his heart swell in the same manner. “I’ll hold you to it, Tom Hiddleston.”
tagging my beloved cheerleaders, @hopelessromanticspoonie, @yespolkadotkitty, and @just-the-hiddles
#a symphony without strings#tom hiddleston rpf#tom hiddleston x ofc#tom hiddleston x oc#tom hiddleston angst#tom hiddleston#look Christine I did a thing#Nonsensical Writes
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I won’t post this on AO3 until the whole fic is done, because I’m sure I’m gonna go back and need to add/change things after writing the ending, but I finally have a full draft of the second chapter
They end up at a 1950s-style diner with the best patty melts in the state. Movie memorabilia lines the walls; above their corner booth, an actress stares out from a glossy poster, pistol in hand. Dean, Castiel, and Sam are piled into one bench, leaving the opposite to Margarita. The table puts two and a half feet of distance between them: not enough for Benjamin, but he bears it without complaint.
The Winchesters take charge of the discussion, reviewing everything they know so far. It isn’t much. Did Mirabel have any enemies? None living. Were there any witnesses to the attack? Same answer as previous. Have there been any other attacks that might be linked? Mirabel is the first angel to die in Arizona in two years.
The first time Castiel addresses a comment directly to Benjamin, Margarita answers for him. There isn’t a second time.
And, Margarita notices, Benjamin isn’t the only one avoiding speaking to Castiel.
When Castiel first rebelled against Heaven, the rumor -- though neither Benjamin nor Margarita believed it -- was that he was trying to claim the Michael Sword for his own use. After Armageddon was averted, the rumor changed: Castiel had indeed laid a claim on Dean Winchester, but as something other than a vessel. In the second month of the civil war, after seeing how Castiel rebuked a soldier for insulting Dean, Margarita decided that the rumor might not be wholly true, but it wasn’t wholly false, either. After the first time Castiel vanished mid-battle to rush to Dean’s side, Benjamin drew the same conclusion.
Dean’s sway over Castiel had been the civil war’s worst-kept secret. Now, the man sits shoulder-to-shoulder with Castiel, pressed closer against his side than propriety allows for-- and at the same time, he pointedly avoids speaking to Castiel except through Sam. Margarita idly wonders if it’s any less bewildering for Castiel than it is for bystanders.
“So what now?” asks Dean, around a mouthful of hamburger. The disgusted look his brother shoots him is either unseen or ignored. He was the Michael Sword, destined to bring about the end of the world, and Margarita is watching him rudely stuff his face at a diner in Phoenix on a Tuesday afternoon. “We got no leads and no witnesses.”
“We do have a witness,” says Benjamin, reluctantly. “Mirabel’s vessel.”
“Didn’t we rule that out at the morgue? She’s dead, and she ain’t coming back.”
“To this plane. You’ve only been dead a few dozen times, so you’ll be shocked to learn there are others.”
“You’re talking about visiting her in Heaven,” says Sam.
“No, I’m talking about visiting her in Tahiti. Unless anyone has any other ideas?”
Margarita feels Benjamin hope that someone will provide an alternative. No one does.
“He’s right,” says Castiel. “This is our best option.”
“Is one of you gonna...?” Dean waves his hand vaguely in the direction of the ceiling.
/I was hoping to avoid this,/ says Benjamin. /If we were closer to the portal--/
/I know,/ says Margarita. If they had twenty spare hours to drive to the portal, or if Benjamin’s wings hadn’t burned, he would take her with him to Heaven. But they don’t have time, and he doesn’t have his wings. /I’ll be fine. Will you?/
Warmth floods Margarita’s veins as Benjamin fills them with extra grace. /As long as I have you to return to./ Out loud, he says, “It has to be me. From what I understand, Castiel is unpopular in Heaven at the moment. I can’t imagine why.”
“Benjamin--” starts Castiel.
“This shouldn’t take more than an hour.” /Volveré pronto a ti, amiga de mi corazón./ Benjamin tilts back her head, opens her mouth, pours out of her in a radiant cloud of shimmering blue-white, and disappears through the diner door.
The comedown hits like a hammer to the skull. It always does, no matter how hard she tries to brace herself, no matter how many hundreds of times she’s been through it before. The physical world jolts into sickening focus: the lights are too bright; the booth is too hard; the air is too cold. Margarita slumps over, elbows on the table, a headache building behind her eyes. Tightness burns in her chest. Oxygen: her body again needs oxygen. Her lungs stutter before finding their rhythm, in-out, in-out.
Benjamin’s grace swells up to soothe her headache, but she pushes it back. Mirabel’s killer is still out there somewhere. If anything happens before Benjamin comes back, Margarita will regret wasting grace on something as small as a headache. Despite herself, Margarita half-expects to hear Benjamin scold her for this: You’re in pain, he would say. That isn’t small. But his voice doesn’t come, and the silence is as deafening as standing inside a church bell.
She has it easier than most, she knows. She could be one of the many vessels whose angel never eats or drinks. A more careless angel might let her wake in a strange place, no way to get home, thirst scraping her throat and hunger clawing her insides apart.
Castiel inhales sharply.
When a vessel is inhabited, their thoughts are shielded from other angels. Margarita is no longer inhabited. If she connects that line of thought to the sound Castiel made, she’ll throw up, so she instead focuses on building a shield in her mind. She pictures a game of Tetris (never one of Benjamin’s favorites, but always one of hers). She pictures a J-block falling. In her mind, she moves the block to the right.
“I apologize,” says Castiel, his voice sad and lost. “You don’t need to do that.”
His tone startles her into looking at his face; his expression makes her look away. It’s wrong, that tone in that voice, that expression on that face. Too human. The last time she saw Castiel in this body, he was a granite-eyed whirlwind of flashing silver, cutting down soldier after soldier (vessel after vessel) to keep the relics of Saint Demetrios out of the hands of Raphael’s army. The fight left sixteen pairs of wings burned into the red carpet of the Patriarchal Cathedral in Bucharest. Castiel, God’s Chosen, was responsible for eight.
“Do what?” asks Sam, confused.
She’s focusing on positioning the block, not guarding her words, and so she answers Castiel in blunt Enochian: “I have no reason to trust you."
Seven years ago, Castiel put out the clarion call for angels to join his war for free will. Eight months later, Margarita was in Bucharest, feeling her hands sink a blade to the hilt in Ammiel’s chest. She remembers light pouring from Ammiel’s eyes as angel and vessel both died. Remembers glass raining down. Remembers a voice shouting, and Benjamin spinning just in time to parry--
An O-block appears at the top of the screen. Left. Left. Her headache throbs behind her eyes. Again, Benjamin’s grace swells to soothe it; again, she bats it away. Sam is asking another question, she thinks, but the words don’t reach her.
Two booths over, someone’s knife scrapes against their plate.
Margarita’s feet answer without consulting the rest of her. The Tetris game falls apart. Before she knows it, she’s standing, heart pounding in her ears. Her head throbs and throbs. “Need some air,” she manages to say. “I won’t go far.” A bell rings as she pushes the door open, high and tinny. The sound digs into her like a scalpel.
A wall of desert heat hits her the moment she steps outside. Palm trees dot the parking lot; Margarita takes shelter in the shade of the nearest, sagging against it, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes. Without Benjamin, her body is no different from the body of any regular mortal. Sweat forms beads on her forehead and dampens her palms.
The voice that saved her in Bucharest didn’t belong to one of Castiel’s soldiers, but the vessel of one of Raphael’s. He took control just long enough to shout: Kill me.
His name was Rémy Samson, Margarita learned later. His body was returned to his family (who would never learn how a librarian from Ottawa wound up dead on the floor of a church in Romania), and when his wife and three children buried him, Margarita and Benjamin were there, hidden from sight. One of Rémy’s daughters had an undetected tumor in her bone marrow that would have turned into stage four lymphocytic leukemia within a year. Benjamin cured it with a touch, and Rémy’s mother’s arthritis, and another daughter’s torn ACL.
After his family left, Margarita laid flowers on Rémy’s grave with the same hands that killed him.
He prayed for death, Benjamin said, staring down at the hydrangeas and gladioli. Why do I regret granting it to him? I don’t understand. Rita, please, help me understand.
Benjamin’s grace again rises to soothe her headache. Margarita is less successful at denial than St. Peter; this third time, she allows the grace to do as it will. It brushes against her like a cool breeze; it rinses away the pain like a bath rinses away dirt. The memory of Bucharest doesn’t fade, but the grace blunts its edge enough for Margarita to breathe again.
If she asked him to, Benjamin would take those memories away entirely. He would erase Bucharest, and Zipaquirá, and Marrakesh, and all the others. Every fight he fought with her body, every drop of blood he spilled with her hands-- he would wipe it all clean, if only she asked. He alone would remember, he alone would carry the burden, and he would do it without complaint.
She has never asked.
“Sister Margarita?” asks Sam Winchester’s voice from behind her. The Boy with the Demon Blood, the breaker of the sixty-sixth Seal, Lucifer’s true vessel, is looking at her with open concern. She’s heard enough stories of the Winchesters that his kindness shouldn’t surprise her, but it does, and she feels a twinge of guilt for it. “Are you okay?”
“I will be,” says Margarita, once she finds her voice. “The first few minutes are always difficult.”
“You don’t mind him possessing you?” blurts Sam. From the look on his face, it wasn’t the question he meant to ask.
With her headache gone, Margarita can manage a reassuring smile. She understands why he would be concerned: he was an unwilling vessel to Lucifer for a time, and Gadreel too, if rumors are to be believed. “If I wanted him to leave, he would. I’m his partner, not his prisoner.”
Sam looks thoroughly unconvinced.
“Benjamin is my best friend,” Margarita continues. “You’re kind to be concerned, but you should save it for a vessel who needs it.” More somberly, she adds, “Most of them do.”
Her thoughts go to Josephine, unwilling Josephine, and the vessel who killed her. Was that vessel asleep? Locked in a fantasy world? Awake, watching her hands murder another innocent human, feeling the blade sink into flesh, begging the thing inside her to not make her do it, please, I don’t want to do this, just let her go, this is wrong, stop, no, please--
Sam’s voice jolts Margarita from her thoughts: “Cas said Benjamin was an old friend.” It’s a question wrapped in a statement.
Margarita sighs. They aren’t even a hundred feet from the table; if Castiel isn’t trying to tune them out, he’ll hear every word. “What else did he tell you?”
“Just that they were in the same garrison. From before Cas had his own.”
She takes a moment to compose her answer, knowing an extra ear might be listening. “Castiel was an old friend. When he asked angels to join his war against Raphael, Benjamin answered. He believed in him. He bled for him. And after Raphael was dead--” Wings charred into grass. Be obedient, children, or this will be your fate. In the back of her throat, Margarita tastes bile. “Those were bad days. Castiel broke Benjamin’s trust in ways I didn’t know it could be broken.”
“You need to know Cas wasn’t himself when he did that. He was sick from taking in Purgatory.”
“Was he sick from Purgatory when he made a secret alliance with the King of Hell?”
Sam winces. “He thought he was doing what he had to do. I didn’t like it either -- I still don’t like it -- but he was trying to do the right thing.”
“I know. He was trying to do the right thing when he joined forces with Crowley, and he was trying to do the right thing when he did the same with Metatron.” Two days after the Fall, Margarita woke up in a hospital in Madrid. The doctors told her she’d had a seizure. She could barely hear them over Benjamin sobbing apologies. “Sam, the only reason we’re here is to find Mirabel’s killer. If that requires working with Castiel, then Benjamin will work with Castiel through me. But you need to understand: If there was any bridge left to rebuild after Raphael, and I don’t know that there was, it burned in the Fall. This doesn’t end with them reconciling.”
Benjamin hadn’t been the only soldier left devastated by how the war ended. Margarita remembers a conversation with Jehoel two years ago: even then, she and Benjamin could barely begin to speak about what they’d seen.
Jehoel, who was also part of that original flight.
Jehoel, who would have heard the distress signal.
Jehoel, who lives seven hours away.
“What’s wrong?” asks Sam, but Margarita is already striding past him, back to the diner.
When Margarita enters, she sees that she didn’t need to be concerned about Castiel listening to her conversation with Sam. Dean has moved to the other bench so that he’s sitting across from Castiel, and all of Castiel’s attention is focused on him, glaring with such intensity that the diner is fortunate to still have windows. Uncharitably, without bothering to shield her mind, Margarita thinks of how unsurprised she is to find Castiel occupied with Dean Winchester while angels are dying.
If Castiel hears the thought, he doesn’t react to it.
“--cosmic consequences,” Dean is saying. Margarita is immediately determined to neither learn about nor get involved with whatever he’s talking about. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but--”
“Castiel,” interrupts Margarita, without apology. “What was the last news you heard about Jehoel?”
“I haven’t heard anything since the Fall.”
“When Benjamin talked to her two years ago, she was living in Santa Fe.”
Castiel’s head cants to the side. “You believe something happened to her since then.”
“Santa Fe is a seven hour drive. She should have been here before any of us.”
“People move,” says Dean.
In that conversation two years ago, Jehoel had talked about the house she’d moved into. How she was slowly restoring it with her (vessel’s) hands, just hands, no grace involved. “Jehoel wouldn’t have. Not by choice.” Margarita takes her phone from her pocket, Googles “santa fe” cult murder, and scrolls through the results.
“What’s going on?” asks Sam, approaching the table.
“Sister Rita’s worried about an angel friend,” answers Dean.
Towards the bottom of the first page of results, Margarita finds the article she hoped she wouldn’t. She zooms in on the crime scene photo and holds out the phone for Castiel to see. “I don’t recognize the vessel. Are those--”
“Jehoel’s wings,” Castiel confirms.
Margarita hates to pray standing, but kneeling in the diner would draw too much attention, so she makes do with a bowed head and clasped hands. For the Winchesters’ benefit, she prays in English: “Holy Ishim the Angel, Holy Kadmiel the Angel, hear this prayer. Mirabel is dead, and only Castiel and Benjamin have arrived at the location of the distress signal. Jehoel was killed four months ago. If you’re still alive, please call--” and Margarita recites her phone number, which she’ll have to change after all this is done. “Amen,” she finishes.
“What now?” asks Sam.
Castiel’s mouth is a grim line. “We wait.”
After a minute of drumming her fingers against her leg, Margarita’s phone starts to ring. She answers before the third note of Baka Mitai hits the air. “You’re speaking to Benjamin’s vessel.”
“Why am I speaking to his vessel?” asks a voice that Margarita recognizes as Ishim’s. Even if he wasn’t still possessing the same vessel, his disdain for her, beyond that of anyone else in the flight, would be identification enough. “Put a person on the line.”
Margarita holds the phone out to Castiel. “Ishim wants to talk to a ‘person.’”
“Sounds like a charmer,” says Dean.
Castiel holds the phone up to his ear. “This is Castiel. ... He went to Heaven to ask Mirabel’s about the attack. ... What? When? ... Why didn’t I know about this? ... I would have. I do. ... We’ll be there. Be careful.” He ends the call, the look on his face promising bad news, and hands the phone back to Margarita. “Kadmiel was killed last year.”
Fear clenches Margarita’s stomach. Angel deaths have gotten rarer in the past two years: when a species is nearly extinct, the survivors tend to be good at surviving. And for three of their flight's six members to be killed in that time-- that doesn’t say coincidence. Again, she bows her head to pray. “San Benjamín Ángel, amigo de mi corazón, escucha mi oración. Kadmiel y Jehoel también fueron asesinados hace unos meses. Lo lamento mucho, querido. Ishim sigue vivo. Estoy sana y salva, no te preocupes por mi. Ten cuidado y mantente a salvo. Amen.”
“Did Ishim say anything else?” asks Sam.
“He has a safe house outside the city. He wants to meet there.”
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