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Chapter Text

Her skin looks washed out.
And tired, that's what she is.
At night it looks like she just took a long shower, back drenched in sweat.
A flu.
It doesn't look like anything more.
A couple days of good rest is what she needs.
After weeks, she wants to go to school.
But she can't.
She knows that now.
Not like she didn't try.
A day, maybe two.
'Till today.
The blood is dripping down on her subtractions.

She has to blink a few times before it registers what's happening.
Her mother is already concerned about her.
Should she get her?
Probably, but they already had a doctor's appointment.
Despite being with thirteen in one house, it didn't seem to spread, which was a cause for concern as well as greatly appreciated.
It was more of a waiting game until dad got home for now.

His work day wasn't exceptionally long.
It's almost time.
She just hopes it's something curable.

Dr. Peterson is their family physician.
Usually it's Lola sitting in her position, the pageants requiring her to be in perfect health.
She doesn't like the doctor's, with all the sick people smearing their germs all over the place.
It's not even hypocrisy, because it's more than likely what she has isn't something contagious.
Dad explains everything, everything he knows.
He's asked to leave.
Her parents finally trust her enough to handle these things semi-independently.

"Bloody noses, do you get those often?"

She knows the answer.

"Sometimes." it's monotone, like always.

"I'm going to do a blood test, just to be sure. We'll make an appointment when the results are in. Okay?"

That'll have to do then.
It doesn't hurt. It never does.
By the end it looks as if he's taken half her blood.

"Don't worry, I promise no matter what it is or isn't, I'll call a whole squadron, the army if it's necessary to help you." He reassures.
Dad isn't shocked when he's told about everything, their new plans.
Seems he was excpecting something like this.

It takes a week. A whole week wasted.
She manages to somehow weakly shuffle to the door.
Her dad has been waiting for a while now.
As long as they're one step closer to a cure, she doesn't mind it too much.

"The blood results weren't too promising." He leaves some space to breath. Not just for himself.

"The next most logical step is a bone marrow puncture. Which will have to be done in the hospital. Let's not waste any time and get started."
Dad needs some time to fully understand all of the information that just got thrown at him.
She doesn't listen to them anymore.
It doesn't matter.
In two days, maybe they'll have an answer. Or be closer to one.
Mom won't be with her.
Understandable, but she really wishes she was.
It's scary.

She doesn't remember the procedure, they sedate her.
Dad isn't in the room with her.
She still doesn't have an answer.
The walls are light blue, full of colourful birds.
They're flying. So easily.
She wishes she could take flight like that.
But her arms had long since become too weak and she couldn't lift her legs up anymore.
There's a bird in every colour, there's a handprint in every colour.
There's a name in every colour.
Brent, Riley, Charlie,...
And then, the smallest print.
With the smallest name.
Joel.
With the only finished set of dates next to him.
2004-2009
It's not like Brent's '2005'
Like Charlie's '2017'
Riley's '2008'
Theirs aren't finished yet.
But five-year-old Joel's is.

"Dad..." She sounds weak. But she's relieved.
Someone's here.
Looking at his face, she can tell he has no clue what's going on yet.
But he's packed a suitcase, so he's planning to stay.
Something he'd always said he would only do if someone's life was in danger.
For someone like Joel.

There's a knock.
A woman, Dr.Azis if you could believe her name tag.

"You're Lucy Loud, right?" She already knows that it's her.
She doesn't respond herself. She really feels too weak for that.
Dad has to do it.

"I'm afraid I don't have good news. You have something called Acute Myeloid Leukemia..."
A stupidly long word she's not even supposed to know. She doesn't listen this time either.
Neither does dad.

"What do we do now, Dad?"
He didn't know. Right now, he didn't need to know.

Chapter Text

It wouldn't matter what happened next, everything would be before or after this moment.
The first day dad didn't stray from her side at all. As if he was worried that the moment he left she would sink deep into a coma and wouldn't wake up.
She wants to go home.
Now she wants to be able to share a room with Lynn, she wants Luan to tell her shitty puns.
But that won't happen. Two months, if the treatment goes well.
The diagnosis was worrying, the doctors rushing to assemble something of a plan.
Chemotherapy seemed to be one of the few viable options.
Too bad it had some not so nice side-effects.
The yoghurt served at breafast tasted more like raw carp than anything strawberry-flavored.
Two months until she can go home.
But treatment won't be finished by then.
She probably won't see the end of the hospital visits until the end of the year, and she'd be lucky to have it stop then.

Dad has to go home at times.
He has to work.
Ten other kids, but she gets this much attention.
It must feel unfair to see your sister get this amount of attention.
She wonders, have they told everyone?
Has he even told mom?
She doesn't know.
She hears other kids.
They seem so much more adjusted to life here.
And she's the new kid on the block, the new kid on block cancer.
Penelope isn't going home.
Penelope is like Joel.
But a little bigger, older.
Penelope is twelve.
Whether that's worse or better than five is a hard question.

There's a bo who always wears a grey bandana.
Graffiti-style drawings decorate its surface.
He hates getting his IV-line cleaned.
She gets that, though it won't be for long that she'll know that pain.
She's scheduled for a port catheter.
A little pocket under her skin, that way the chemo is easier.
For now she's on pain medication.
Something close to morphine.
She's getting tired of hearing all those medications with seventy-two letters

It's loud.
At night, dad sleeps with her.
She doesn't know how her mom can deal with it because right now he sound like a lion with asthma after running the mile.
Even if she likes the dark, it's really time for the sun to peek through.
The darkness is still scary, especially now.
Because she doesn't know what's gonna happen.

She dreams of a tap-dancing cat right before he falls of the twenty-fifth story of an apartment complex.
And that's where it ends.

Chapter Text

Hydroxyurea, mitoxantrone, etoposide.
It's her special mix of drugs to help her.
She's done nothing but sit in her room for three days.
When her dad isn't there, she doesn't know what to do.
She doesn't want to go walking around without reason.
She won't get far anyways.
She's really starting to look sick now.

But this is an exception.
She wants her hair shorter.
Before it starts falling out.
Which, with her chemo, it will.
It's only been a week, but they don't have a lot of time.
Another week at max.

"I haven't seen you here yet. New?" A young voice.

"Does it matter?" She really didn't want to be bothered today.

"What do you have?" The boy is much older than her, fourteen probably.

"Something like Acute Myeloid Leukemia." She doesn't know why she answers him.

"You don't see that too often in pediatrics. You don't see it too often period." He informs her.

"What do you have?"

"An Ewing Sarcoma, a type of rare bone cancer. It recurred, and I've been here for three months since." There's a short silence.

"Come, I'll show you to my friend, Vic."

The boy, Charles, leads her to Vic.
Vic's room is decorated to show who he is, what he likes.
She hasn't had time to do that yet.
Dad promised he would give her some things soon, to make her stay as easy as possible.
Victor is a boy, thirteen, if she had to guess. And his room was full of action figures.
The television every room had was connected to a game console, with a flickering loading screen of a game called 'Living Heroes'.
Vic had a wheelchair to get around, and wore glasses with possibly the thickest lenses she'd seen so far.
They'd both been here a while, she'd probably ring the bell before them if everything went like it should.
Vic has an insulinoma, pancreatic cancer.
They were friends, who she hasn't known for long, but they understand eachother. Because they all live in the same situation at the same time.
Charles had an operation this week, the first tumour, the biggest on his leg, would be partially removed.
But he really didn't feel ready.

Both were already bald, Charles had his mother shave his head when he first arrived.
Vic waited for it to fall out on its own.
Even with new friends here, she still felt as if missing a chapter of life.
When you're nine, school is a massive part of your life.
And now, she couldn't do that anymore.
And when she returns, how would she go about it.
She'd look completely different.
She knew she wanted her hair.
But that would no longer be an option.

She walked the halls, the hospital lay-out being rectangular to keep it easy to evacuate.
Charles' room was completely diagonal to hers, which was the first corner next to the reception.

"I want you to promise me something." She said.

"If I ask you to shave my hair, you have to do it."

Charles agreed, only one condition.

"Only ask me when you're sure you're ready. It's quite a shock, saying goodbye to your hair like that."

Chapter Text

It's time, it's fall on her head.
And it's just hair. Yeah.
But this is different.
This is her hair.

She's this close to grabbing a pair of scissors and cutting it all herself.
She just can't stand wathcing it fall out like that.
Azis promised she would do it for her.
Today.
But the doctor wouldn't shave it, that didn't really matter. Charles would do it.

Dad is home most of the time.
He's brought her clothes, books and things she used to like.
Mostly she doesn't use them though.
Whether she's too tired or just doesn't feel like it.
Usually she goes to Charles.
Charles is an artist.
Did street art, but they're not allowed to go outside.
Not even a minute, as their neutrophils are low.
Which can cause unnecessary infections and with their chemo, their cancer, it could lead to death.
She wants to go out, it's Halloween.
She loves Halloween. And she should be outside tonight, enjoying it.
Not alone, but Charles doesn't want to. Vic can't with his wheelchair.
Her hair keeps falling out.
It really isn't her day.

The sound of scissors is loud in the otherwise empty room.
It doesn't hurt.
One of the few things that doesn't.
Charles already got her a bonnet.
Because whatever she did, it would fall out eventually.
Azis is careful, her hair isn't what it used to be.
Brittle, dry. and thin.
The bangs she's grown out almost religiously won't be much use anymore.
It feels weird, her head feels five pounds lighter.
It'll feel even weirder soon.
Her skull is never something she'd paid a lot of attention to.
It itches, it's tender. And most importantly, she's never looked at it.
When she looks at the ground, it looks like Cliff the cat had just gotten its whole pelt shaved of.
Only Cliff wouldn't have to wait months for it to re-grow.
That cat was damn lucky.

She's got a headache.
The medication.
Everything.
Stress.
Everything is still a mystery, but she's not too fond of this one.
Thiss is a nightmare.
The longer she's here, the more she's aware she has no clue what she even has.

Chapter Text

The moment of the diagnosis was like free-falling down the Everest.
She didn't understand how she got there, why she fell.
But it seemed she would die any moment.
Now, it's like being stuck between two tectonic plates of the earth.
She's not gonna die, she won't allow it.
She's too young. And Charles, Vic, even Penelope. For all of them, she has to get out of here healthy.
For little Joel, who's handprint is still in her room.
For everyone who's beeen in this bed before her.

It gets easier, to begin she finally undestands what it is. She's known it was cancer, for a long time.
Acute Myeloid Leukemia is a blood cancer, where the bone marrow creates healthy cells and an obnormal amount of faulty cells.
The chemotherapy kills those cells. The problem is it attacks all cells.
That's why her hair is falling out, why she's tired, and why her heart hurts.
The issue now is that she keeps feeling worse, keeps feeling thigs that aren't side-effects.
She doesn't know why, but she can't move at times, like half her body snoozes on her sometimes.
Charles is worried, he doesn't say why.
He looks scared for her.

She has a lung infection.
They don't know from where, but until her fever drops they can't continue with the chemotherapy.
She sleeps alot, and dad's back with her.
He looks like a clown wearing fully sterile clothing.
Vic and Charles can't see her anymore.
Not that she would know when they showed up.
Sh's asleep, away in her own world.
Maybe it's better.
She hasn't seen her sisters in a long time.
And to thnk, they don't know why she's here.
He doesn't know how to tell them.
His kids aren't stupid, they don't just do what they're told anymore.
They ask questions now.
They know that, with what she has, maybe she won't be alright.
That hoping doesn't do much in this situation.

She doesn't get better.
The fever keeps rising, and it's been three days.
He won't let her go.
He's already seen new kids, kids that weren't here when his Lucy was admitted.
More kids.
And it doesn't seem fair.
It should've been him, or Rita.
An adult. But no, these are children.

"Joel, if she doesn't make it. Go look after her."

Chapter Text

She misses Charles' operation.
He waits for her, patiently.
No rush, she can take all the time she needs.
The infection is one thing, yet it doesn't explain all the symptoms she had before the illnesses started piling up.
There's no good news.
She's going home for a little after this, because there's more to think about.
It's terrible news, some of the worst.
Oligodendroglioma.
A brain tumour, and it would already be bad if it was just that.
But no, this is metastasis.
The only hope is brain surgery.
But they're not sure if they can put her through that.
Her body isn't what it used to be, it's not as strong as it should be.
There's a choice to make now.

It hurts everyone to hear.
Even the doctors, who you'd excpect were used to it, don't hesitate to show genuine sadness.
It's weird.
Maybe they don't grasp the concept yet.
They have a week.
Just chemo won't cut it, nor any other long term treatment.
She can't do much more at home.
She doesn't want to.
She wants to go back to her hospital friends.
It's like being ran over by a train, or two, or four, or thousand, every day.
She wonders if Charles had known, or Penelope.
If Charles has seen this before.
It was looking up, now she doubts Charles was right about her getting to ring the bell before him.

Luna says she thinks her short hair looks cool.
But she doesn't understand that she hates it.
She's trying to pretend it doesn't bother her, what she has.
She hates that too.
Like suddenly, none of them are allowed to see negatives anymore.
But this is negative, she's dying, her hair is ugly, she looks worse than ever.
They're trying to take over as parents to the younger ones.
Mom and dad don't have time.
Because of her.
She wants to go back to the hospital.
Her sisters wouldn't have to see her.
She could pretend it wasn't this bad.
She could go back to Vic and Charles.
Say goodbye to Penelope, because she didn't have much more time.

Lincoln tries to get around her whenever he can.
He doesn't want to see her.
She doesn't want to see him.
She doesn't want to see anyone here.
They will never understand her.
Penelope, Joel would.
She's late to catch Joel, so it has to be Penelope.
She doesn't want surgery, but her parents do.
And she's only nine.
And she'll live, she'll do it.
Penelope has to be happy when she hears about her.
That she can be happy knowing she's gonna be the only one going from cancer for a while.

Chapter Text

"So, you're getting it done?" Charles.

"Yeah." She didn't really know what else to say.

"Let's go to Victor, he'd be ecstatic to see you!"

Victor had only gone downhill after she left.
Most often he couldn't leave his bed, yet he didn't seem to care much.
Only, he was worried for Penelope.
Her mom was fearful of leaving her bedside.
She knew.
The time was nearing, quick.
It doesn't really hurt to see, yeah, her end was coming.
But after all of her pain, it was a desrved one.
It would be peaceful, at last.

It still hurts to see her go.
She won't tell her it's alright.
It's not.
Penelope isn't jealous or envious that Lucy can live.
What would be excpected of a child doesn't apply here.
In a way they were thrown into a painfully adult world way too early.
It's not the falling that counts, it's getting up.
Even if you never properly will, everyone tries.
Because they don't have a choice.
They're not fighting anything, because Penelope would've been just as good of a fighter, she just had less luck.
Her life was bright, like it deserved to be before she died.
Lucy's wasn't going to be for a while.
It will be, it has to be.

She's not sure if this is the right choice.
But it's happening anyway.
Charles promised he'd do it.
She doesn't want it to be harder than it has to be.
Even if she might regret it for a while.
It's just going to be easier like this.
And it might be one of the last chances she gets to ask him.
Charles is almost better, he's almost finished with his treatments here.
It's just time.
Her hair is too thin, too unhealthy to be of any use anymore.
She's going to bring out Charles' bonnet.
It might be the only thing she'll have from him when he leaves.
She couldn't imagine him wanting to revisit this place ever again.

Chapter Text

"I need you to shave it. I just can't stand watching anymore."

"I don't believe you, you like having hair too much."

"I know, but my hair doesn't like me any longer."

Charles halts.

"What? scared? Do it now or I might change my mind."

"Wait here, I'll go get my things."

The towel he brought was clear white and itchy around her neck.
Her hair is easy to shave, it doesn't hurt her. Or it does.
She's looked sick for a while, but now there was no denying it.
Now it's real.
She's known for a while that what she had was life-threatening.
But it didn't seem so bad when she could convince herself no one could see it.
Charles stays with her long after it's done
She doesn't cry.
Charles did this too.
And he was fine, he's still fine.
He's leaving soon.
It doesn't seem fair.
She should've been out of here first.
Those birds seem more close now.
She can feel how glad those kids were to leave.
Her date isn't finishing in here.
Even if sometimes things have to hurt for a little.
It's okay.

Vic isn't worried about her.
He just knows she's gonna make it.
Because 'You know you have to.'
And he's right, she has to.
It's not just for her this time.
It's for Penelope now.
Even if she won't know.
Maybe she does.
Maybe she's looking down, sitting on a star.
The brightest star, the one she was on earth.
If she's looking, she has to make it.
Otherwise it would be for nothing.
Then, everything would've been for nought.
And what's the point of that.
She's going to see Charles go home.
Going to keep Vic company when Charles is home.
When they're all better, she won't forget them.
Ever.

The bonnet is grey and fluffy.
'It would amaze you how warm hair is' she thinks.
She doesn't have much more time to prepare for her surgery.
A frontal craniotomy still sounds like it's gibberish.
Well, at least they won't have to shave her hair anymore.
She's glad it was Charles.
He could understand her.
It doesn't matter that he's ringing the bell before her, he desrves it just as much.
Everyone here deserves that.

She dreams under the anesthetic.
That Joel, Penelope, and everyone who's ever left this place in spirit are chasing eachother around space.
That they're not tired anymore.
They're not sick.
They're not the old husks of children they were at the end.
They don't have to try anymore.
They're not resting.
Because they've rested enough down here.
Now it's their time to play.
Ruling over the planets.
Penelope and Joel.
It doesn't hurt to say.
They're alright now.
They're just not alright here.
She is, but that doesn't mean they were weak.
They lived as well.
Just not as long.
Now they're up there.
And that's deserved.
They deserve all they want.
Penelope's handprint was pink.
Her date may say it ended here, but it didn't.
It never ended. Not even up there.

Chapter Text

She's still scared.
She doesn't know how long it's been.
She's not in her room. The ICU.
The wound is sore and stapled shut.
Everything's a bit blurry at first.
No one's allowed to see her for a while.
They have to see if she's stable first.
Then, if everything goes alright, maybe one or two people at a time.
It would be the first time for anyone in the family, or outside, to see her. Except for her dad.
Even he would be shocked now.
He never saw her like this before.
Hopefully he wouldn't ever again.
The room isn't as hers as the previous one was.
Here there are no birds, there are no colours.
Everything is white, and bland.
It's weird, after months of hearing screams and cries.
There's nothing here.
She wants Charles, Vic, Penelope if she could have her.
Now she can't.
Charles is going home, Vic couldn't leave his bed last time.
And she's still here.
Yeah, family visits are going to be weird.
Now just hope that Lola doesn't faint once it's her turn.

The nurses aren't as friendly here.
They don't really know how to handle kids.
The soreness has faded over the last few days.
It's going to go better this time.
This time treatment won't be so rough.
It'll pass.
Her life is always going to be ripped in two from now on.
They won't heal back together. Ever.
But she won't drown in the residue of the split.
A few months ago, she was thrown into the deep end of the pool, and the shallow is in sight.
The daily trains she was overrun with weren't gone.
They wouldn't be for a long, long time.
She's still going to feel like a depressed snail after chemo, she's still going to miss her hair.
But she'll care less.
Whether she looks like a bowling ball, a door knob, a mango,...
It doesn't matter.
Here a lot of people look like that.
It's normal, the latest in hospital fashion.
Plus, they've never experienced a lice epidemic.

It all looks so stupid.
Her body killing her body.
But she met Charles, Vic, Penelope.
It's no positive thing, and she didn't deserve it.
But they know eachother now.
And she's glad that Penelope's last days, weeks, weren't alone.
She'll be alright as long as she is too.
And that's going to be a while.
People don't age in the sky.
Even if that means Joel won't ever grow up.
Joel was unlucky.
She was as well, just less.
A little less, just enough to survive.
That's enough to honour them.
And when Charles comes to visit, they don't cry.
Not that they're not allowed to, they don't want to.

"Vic won't survive much longer..."

But she knew that already.
Vic was a Leo, he'd be riding along on the wild beast in space, taming its personality.
It happens too often.
She's lost a lot.
She's going to cry for him when he can't.
She and Charles.
As long as they're here, Vic and Penelope will be.
And so will Joel.
And Roxanne.
And Emily.
For them there will be a next tommorow, all of them.
Whether they know it or not.