There For You

by Madam RedRose25

Randy is left to look after his son during the second week of a very difficult time in his life after he is diagnosed with a serious disease. All he wants is for Stan to know he cares. But will Stan be able to see it? Spoilers! for How the Darkness Sounds. I suggest you read that before this. Thanks.

THERE FOR YOU

A/N: Please do not read this until you have read my story How the Darkness Sounds. This is a story in which Stan is diagnosed with Acute Lymphocytic Leukemia written in 2010/2011. I have been making slight changes to it the past week and have noticed I treated Randy kind of unfairly. We don't get to see him be there for his son often during this hard time so I had to compose this.

April 2010

It was close to six when Randy arrived at the Golden Tree Motel in Denver. He knocked on the door of room 102. Sharon opened it a few seconds later. They hugged and he gave her a small kiss on the lips.

"I came as soon as I could. Thankfully traffic wasn't too bad," he told her as he brought his suitcase inside. He looked over to see their son sitting in a chair in front of the TV. He tried to smile. "Hey pal, how are you?"

Stan glanced at his father's direction before turning back to Chopped. Randy looked over to his wife who sighed and walked over.

"Stan, your father just arrived. Say 'hello'."

Stan still didn't say anything. He just pulled his legs up and hugged his knees. Sharon switched the TV off.

"Hey!" Stan cried out.

"Stan, we don't have time to well, waste time. I have to leave soon if I'm to get any sleep for work tomorrow. Now don't you still want to get a bite to eat before I go?"

"Not hungry…" Stan mumbled.

"Well I still think we should grab something before I go. There's a small Mexican joint down the street. You have to eat something. Now get your shoes on," Sharon spoke sternly.

Grumbling, Stan got up to find his shoes. Randy gave a confused look at Sharon.

"Fair warning: he's been like this all week. I hope you're prepared for what's to come when you take over," Sharon said softly so only her husband could hear.

"Right, right…" Randy nodded. He cleared his throat. "Stan, hurry up then so we can eat soon."

The three of them left five minutes later and arrived at Jose Ole's Taco Shop a few minutes away from the motel. Stan mumbled his order to his parents and took a seat at a booth in the back. Several minutes later two chicken soft tacos were placed in front of Stan as well as a mango agua fresca. The family ate in silence at first, Stan eating his dinner slowly. Randy decided to break the silence.

"So, son, how-how have things been…this week? Um, how was your first week of treatment?"

Stan glared at Randy and picked at his food. "It sucked."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Maybe this week it will be better."

"It won't," Stan said shortly.

"Stan, please try to have more of an open mind this time," Sharon stressed.

Stan glared at her too and rested his head in his hand as he ate.

"So um, when is his treatment for tomorrow?" Randy asked quietly ate he ate his burrito.

"At 9:30. Same on Wednesday. It's at 1 o'clock on Thursday. I- I would advise waking early tomorrow. Just in case," Sharon said heavily.

No one said anything after this except for Stan asking if he could have a couple pieces of Marzipan before they left which Sharon agreed to. Randy helped his wife take her suitcase to her car when they got back to the motel. They shared another hug and kiss.

"Safe ride back," Randy said in her ear.

"I'll call as soon as I get home." Sharon then turned to Stan who was looking at the pavement, eyes full of tears. She bent down and put a hand on his shoulder. "You be a brave boy, okay? Dad will look after you this week then I'll come back next Wednesday, okay sweetie?" Stan sniffed before choking on a small sob. Sharon hugged him to her and kissed his cheek. "I know you can do this sweetie. I'll call you tomorrow to see how you're doing, okay? I love you."

Stan hastily wiped his eyes and nodded and stood next to his father. They watched Sharon get into her car and drive off and out of sight. Randy patted Stan's shoulder signaling they should go back to the motel room. Once there Stan sat on his bed while Randy sat on the one opposite. They stared. Randy rubbed his neck.

"So, um, is there anything special you want to do tonight? Any movies or games you want to play?"

"No."

"Stanley please, I know you aren't liking this so far but work with me here. Your mother told me you had a pretty rough first week and I don't want that to happen this week. I hate to break it to you but this is your new life, at least for now. I want to be there for you as you go through this but you have to make this easy on me too," Randy stressed.

Stan rubbed his eyes. "Can't- can't I just watch TV?"

"The rest of the night? There's still two hours left before bedtime. C'mon, there has to be something you want to do now that Mom's gone. Something she didn't want to do. It's just us guys now, what do you say?"

Stan looked around the room before grinning slightly. "Can we have a Nerf War?"

"Yes, yes of course," Randy beamed. Even though there wasn't much space in the motel room father and son made the most of it. They cleared away what they could before running around firing Nerf Gun Darts at each other. After, Randy picked up a couple cups of hot chocolate from Starbucks as a special treat. Soon enough it was nine and time for Stan to get ready for bed. He took a quick shower, brushed his teeth, and got into the bed by the window. Randy went back to his car to grab his phone charger he left inside and when he got back to the room Stan was already asleep. Sighing, Randy figured it best to get ready for bed as well. He turned the lights off by ten and scrolled on his phone for a half hour before finally going to sleep too.

Randy set his alarm for eight in the morning. When he awoke he found his son sleeping in an upright position on a few pillows. He shook him awake.

"C'mon kid, big day. You've had over ten hours of sleep. Let's get some breakfast okay?"

"Do I have to go in?" was the first words out of Stan's mouth.

"Yes, of course you do," Randy frowned as he went to change.

"My back hurts… I don't want to go in if my back hurts," Stan complained.

"You have to go in and you know it Stanley. Your whole body has hurt the past few months. We're going."

Stan punched a pillow and kicked it to the floor.

"Stop acting up and get dressed. We need to eat before we head to the hospital."

"I'm just going to throw it up later anyway," Stan said as he got to his feet.

Randy gave him a hard look before continuing to get himself ready. They grabbed a couple doughnuts although Stan only ate half of his. Randy allowed him to watch TV for a half hour before it was time to go. At this Stan began to complain again, stating he didn't want to go in for treatment today. Now Randy knew why Sharon told him it was best to get an early start before they had to leave. While it took a few minutes of convincing before they could get in the car, it took even more convincing to get out of the car once they were parked at Children's Hospital.

"Please Stan, we have to get going. It's already 9:23."

"I don't want to go Dad. Please don't make me go in," Stan whined.

Randy turned to the passenger's side door and opened it and unbuckled the seatbelt.

"I'm so sick of this already Dad, please, I don't want to do this anymore," Stan's eyes were already filling with tears.

"You don't have a choice Stan, we have to go in, you have to get better. This is the only way. Now don't make me drag you in," Randy said sternly.

Stan got out of the car but Randy kept a firm hold of his hand as they walked in in case he ran off. They were greeted by a friendly woman at the entrance of the hospital.

"Good morning Stan! And- oh, hello, are you his father?"

"Yes, I'm switching places with my wife this week. Nice to meet you- Bethany," Randy looked at the older woman's nametag. He walked past her, still gripping his son's hand before doubling back. "Actually, since this is my first time taking over… can you direct me where I need to go?"

"No worries. Stanley's here for treatment today, correct? You will go down the hall to your left to phlebology. There Stan will have his blood drawn before you will be directed to level seven, the Center for Cancer and Blood Disorders floor."

"Right, thanks." He then went back a second time. "Um, why does he have to have blood drawn again? I thought he did already last week…"

"We need to make sure Stanley's body is strong enough to receive chemotherapy today. Once his blood levels are deemed to be at a safe level he will get treatment started," Bethany explained gently.

"Of course, thanks again," Randy nodded. He let go of his son's hand and had a hand behind his back now, indicating he expected Stan to lead the way. "C'mon son, I'm sure you know the way by now. Show me where to go…"

Stan lead the way, albeit slowly. Randy checked in with the receptionist at phlebology and took up a seat. He sighed at he looked at his watch. They were already ten minutes late, he hoped they didn't keep anyone here waiting and that Stan's name would be called in soon. Thankfully hardly five minutes later the door opened and a blonde woman stepped out.

"Stanley Marsh? We're ready for you dear."

Stan gave his father a worried look. Randy got up and placed the same strong hand behind his head to indicate he had to follow suit.

"Dad, I don't want to today," Stan said in a hushed tone.

"You have to, we went through this. It'll be quick. C'mon."

Stan rubbed his stinging eyes. "I don't want to. I need a break."

"You've had a break the past two days and you'll have one tomorrow. We're already behind, I know you don't want to but you have no choice," Randy repeated this phase yet again. He had a feeling he'd be doing so a lot this week.

Stan wiped at his eyes again and got up and made his way over to the woman- Sandy.

"Why don't you take a seat for me, okay honey?" Sandy indicated the cushioned chair in the middle of the room.

Stan's eyes went wide at the sight of the pink cushioned chair with the flat arm rests where one was meant to relax their arm while blood was being drawn. He hurried to his father's side.

"Stanley you're being ridiculous, it's not that bad. Even you said IVs are the worst," Randy tried prying Stan off his side.

"I don't want to do this day," Stan repeated for the hundredth time.

"Why don't you take a seat and tell me what you did yesterday honey," Sandy suggested.

"No."

"Just take a seat and we'll talk. I'm not going to do anything until you're ready, okay?"

Stan knew that the only way out of this room was to go through with this. He finally took a seat.

"So what did you do yesterday Stan? It was your day off treatment, wasn't it?" Sandy smiled as she took a seat next to his right side.

Stan looked to his right, looking for the needle. Just like at the dentist, he didn't like a surprise stab or knowing the needle was being kept hidden from his viewpoint.

"Stan, what did you do? I'd like to know too," Randy tried.

Stan rubbed his sweaty hands. "Just stayed at the motel with Mom."

"Uh-huh. What did you do there?"

"Watch TV. Swam a little."

"Sounds fun. Do you like to swim?"

"Yeah." He saw her reach behind and return a second later. "Wait!"

"I'm not doing anything yet honey. Did you have anything fun to eat? I know you haven't had much of an appetite lately," Sandy spoke.

"Not really. I had chicken soft tacos last night before Mom went back to South Park."

"Sounds yummy, I love tacos myself. Did you do anything fun with Dad when he took over?"

"We had hot chocolate from Starbucks, then had a Nerf Gun War…" his eyes traveled to her hands that were currently placing latex gloves over themselves.

"How fun! My nephew loves Nerf Guns. Who won?"

"I did, I snuck in an attack when my dad wasn't looking," Stan grinned slightly, looking up at Randy. Randy smiled back.

Sandy's smiled faltered. "Say honey, do you think you can lift up your sleeve for me? Don't worry; I'm not going to do it yet."

Stan looked back at Randy. He wanted his dad to comfort him in the next minute or two but didn't want to annoy him in asking. Randy looked back, confused. He then sighed, knowing what Stan was asking through his eyes. Honestly, he couldn't remember the last time he was present at his son's side during a blood draw or shot. Such things were always taken care of by Sharon; he just figured it was what most mothers took care of. The only incident that came to mind was when Stan was four and about to start kindergarten. He remembered having to hold his son down in his lap as he screamed away when getting his blood drawn. But that was five years ago, surely he wouldn't react the same way now. He cleared his throat and went to help push the sleeve up on Stan's brown jacket.

"I'm just going to tie the arm band now, okay? So, do you have a favorite Nerf Gun toy?" Sandy spoke as she tied a blue band above Stan's right elbow.

"N-no…"

"My nephew loves the Vortex Sonic… something. Do you have that one?" she was now tracing a finger down his arm, feeling for a vein.

Stan had gone quiet at this point.

"Stan? Honey? What's your favorite Nerf Gun toy?"

He didn't answer, his eyes were fixated on what she was doing now. She cleaned a spot on his arm and uncapped the butterfly needle. "On the count of three then honey. One-two-three"-

"Ow!" Stan jumped and turned his head away. Randy squeezed his son's left shoulder.

"You're doing okay pal, you're okay…"

A minute later Sandy took out the needle and placed a blue Band-Aid at the pinprick site.

"Good job today honey. Very good job. Want to add to your collection?" she held out a roll of stickers. Stan looked angry but still chose a couple space-themed ones. Sandy finished filling out the information on the two vials of blood before going over to Randy. "We'll look over his blood right now. It shouldn't take longer than forty minutes. You can wait in the waiting lounge or the play room down the hall. Once he is given the green light, you'll take him up to his room on the seventh floor. Okay Mr. Marsh?"

Randy nodded and followed after his son, who had already walked out of the room. Stan sat in the waiting area watching some judge TV show. True to Sandy's word Stan's results came in within forty minutes. He was in the clear to receive chemo that day. With that Randy went over to his son.

"You're good to get treatment today Stan. Let's head up to your room, okay?"

"I wanna watch till the end"- he said softly, nodding to the TV.

"We'll turn on the TV upstairs. C'mon, your doctor will be waiting for us."

Stan dragged his body to the elevator with his dad and up they went to the seventh floor. As soon as they stepped out that's when Stan began to have a meltdown. Randy got down to his knees.

"What is it pal?"

"I don't want-want to do this today, please Dad, don't make me," Stan moaned, wiping his eyes frantically.

Randy looked over, unsure what to do now. Again, he knew his son had a tough first week but now it was up to him to handle it and he didn't know how. He knew Stan had valid reasons to back out but he also knew he couldn't back out, he was very sick and this was the only thing that could possibly save his life. Thankfully one of the nurses went to take over. She had a hand on Randy's shoulder, nodding that it was okay for him to stand up. Another woman went down to Stan's level as Randy was pulled aside to a small room away from the boy.

Randy couldn't help it; he felt tears form in his own eyes. The nurse, Geena, handed him a tissue.

"Thanks," he sniffed. "Sorry, I feel like an idiot, can't even comfort my own son…"

Geena had a hand on his back. "It's okay Mr. Marsh; this is all still very new for all of you. It's only his fifth treatment; he's still having troubles accepting this is his new life."

"But he's my son. I'm sure if my wife were here she'd be able to handle him. I've never been good at dealing with my kids like this," Randy shook his head, wiping his nose.

"If it makes you feel better Stan acted like this each time so far. He's scared and confused and wants to go home. He still doesn't want to believe this will be his life for the next handful of years. It will take time for him and for you to accept it," Geena explained.

"I just feel so bad for the kid. He always complains his body hurts, he doesn't eat much, sleeps the day away, feels sick… it's as if he's 80 years old but he's not. He's only nine, it's too much for a nine-year-old to deal with," Randy said in a strained voice. Geena nodded and rubbed the man's shoulder, allowing him to get his feelings out in the open. "I know my son, I know he loves to play outside and have fun. Be with his friends. Play sports. Just be a kid."

"Things will get better, I promise. Like I said, Stan still has to accept this is how things are now. Unfortunately some things might take longer to transition into before he's able to walk in this hospital without stalling time. I know the two big things- his fear of needles and feeling sick are making this difficult right now. Right now our child coach Annie is talking with him so he can calm down enough so we can proceed with the chemotherapy scheduled for today. Don't feel guilty about any of this Mr. Marsh; we have actually dealt with more difficult patients. We will get there, we will," Geena looked him in the eye with a concerned but knowing expression.

Randy nodded and blew his nose one last time. He had to be strong for his child today, that's what it came down to. He was then directed to room 1312, his son's permanent room during treatment (not before scrubbing up to not track in any bacteria). He saw Stan sitting on a chair with the child coach, Annie, standing next to him, rubbing his arm. Stan was already dressed in a hospital gown with a pattern of stars and moons. The kind lady spotted Randy.

"Is it okay if Daddy takes over sweetheart?"

Stan sighed but nodded.

"Dr. Fohlkoly will be in shortly, okay?"

Randy went over to Stan, frowning. "Are you okay pal?"

Stan nodded.

"Sure? I'm right here if you want to tell me."

"I'm fine," Stan said hoarsely.

A few minutes later the round form of Stan's oncologist, Dr. Fohlkoly, appeared in the room.

"Hey there son. How are you this morning?"

Stan shrugged.

"Hello Mr. Marsh, good to meet you," he nodded a head towards the other man. "How are you feeling Stan? Sick to the stomach? Any pains the last few days? Eating well?"

"My back started hurting last night," Stan shrugged. "I had to sit myself up on some pillows to sleep."

"Hmm, I'll keep that in mind. Now we are running a little behind schedule but that's okay, it happens. Do you mind if I check you over before we begin?"

"I guess."

"Want me to look you over in that chair you're sitting in?"

Stan nodded. The man put on latex gloves and looked into Stan's eyes, ears, nose, mouth, and listened to his heart and lungs. He also felt around his back, neck, and stomach.

"Everything looks okay today son. Looks as if your mouth is very dry right now. Be sure to get in as much fluids as you can today. We want to avoid any mouth sores if possible. We can give you pain medication during treatment if you think it might help with your back pain. But we want to be careful it doesn't make you sick. This is going to be a longer course of drugs today, the longest session for this week. We want you as comfortable as possible, sound good?"

Again, Stan shrugged a shoulder.

"Why don't you take a seat in your bed for now son and we'll get started…" a few seconds later a nurse, Tina, entered to assist. "Do you want to watch something today Stan?"

Stan was feeling apprehensive as he watched the two adults set things up next to him. Tears burned his eyes again. Dr. Fohlkoly began to explain the drugs that were going to be running through him that day to him and his dad but he wasn't listening.

"Why don't we turn the TV on sweetie?" Tina smiled at him, bending down.

"No."

"Do you want to play a game? Or how about some bubbles? It always does the trick to other kids who might be a little frightened…"

"No." he was nine, not five! He just had a fear of needles and a deep distaste in being cooped up in the hospital today and stupid bubbles weren't going to do anything. Surely treatment could wait another day?

Randy was at his side, hand on his shoulder. "There has to be something that will help Stan. What do you want us to do?"

Stan just put his face against the man's chest. Randy gave a squeeze and gently scooted his son closer to the edge of the bed. Stan had to watch as Dr. Fohlkoly tied a band above his right wrist and had a look at the IV needle before turning away as he was stabbed. Randy squeezed him a second time. Thankfully he seemed to understand he needed him there and that his fears were reasonable. Ten minutes later everything was set up.

"Remember Stan, if you start to feel nauseous don't hesitate to ask for some anti-nausea medicine. Also, if you want to go to the playroom down the hall you're allowed to do so. But we want you to use your face mask if you do so. If there is anything you need, I'm sure your dad will let us know, right?" the oncologist looked up at Randy.

"Yes, of course."

"This first course of drugs will last four hours. I'll check in periodically today before we begin on your next dose, okay? Try to keep your spirits up today Stan. I know you have it in you. See you soon."

Randy looked at Stan as he sat staring into nothing. He sighed.

"Might as well get comfortable pal. Let's sit you back, get your shoes off…"

Stan didn't look at him but he did take his shoes off and sat against a pile of pillows.

"Any-anything you want Stan? You have some DVDs over here, let's pop one in."

Stan moaned and turned to his side.

"Stan?"

"I just wanna be alone…"

"Oh. Okay then… I'll be right outside if you need me." Randy had to respect his son's wishes at that point even if he felt slightly crushed so he walked out the door. He decided he'd go downstairs to the garden outside to clear his head. Only then did he feel his phone vibrate. It was Sharon texting him.

Sharon: How has this morning been?

Randy: Pretty rough. I get why you said we should leave early.

Sharon: Did he act up yet?

Randy: He just keeps saying he doesn't want to do this. He's 'over it'.

Sharon: My poor baby… how is he now? Did they start chemo yet?

Randy: Yes, about 20 mins ago. He's in a mood now, wanted to be left alone. I'm giving him space for now.

Sharon: I'll call during my lunch at 12. Kiss him from me and tell me I'm thinking of him.

Randy: I will. Ttyl

Randy walked around for a little while before going back in, guilt settling in. He peeked in to Stan's room and noticed he was already asleep. His heart broke at the sight; again, he was nine and was sleeping as much as an elderly person. He had gotten over ten hours of sleep last night but was still somehow tired. He should have been running around with the energy only a nine-year-old boy could have. Randy step back inside and took up a chair and magazine just in case Stan needed him. Almost an hour later Stan suddenly shot up and cupped his mouth. Randy leapt into action and was able to place a bedpan under his mouth at the right second. Stan heaved up his breakfast, which wasn't much, so the rest ended up being bile and spit. Nurse Tina had been alerted and came in with two pills in a paper cup as well as a bottle of water. Stan took the anti-nausea medication without word.

"Why don't you ask for some before they begin chemo?" Randy had to ask.

"I- I want to be able to handle it," Stan said with difficultly.

"We know how easy it is for you to feel sick Stan. It's okay to want help with it."

Stan didn't say anything, just rubbed his nose. Randy bit his lip but pecked the boy's temple. Stan flinched back.

"That was from Mom. She's thinking of you and will call soon, okay?"

Stan nodded before going back down on his pillows.

"Stan, I'm sure it's not good to sleep all day long. Let's watch or play something. Old Maid or Speed or something," he indicated the deck of playing cards on the bedside table.

Stan frowned for a couple seconds but grabbed the deck. "Let's do Speed."

Smiling, Randy sat at the edge of Stan's bed and watch as he shuffled the cards. Around noon Tina walked in to offer Stan some lunch. She handed him a little menu with items to choose from. He was feeling slightly better than he did a few hours ago so decided to order something. Randy had also ordered up some lunch for himself, not wanting to be away from Stan on the first day he would be with him during treatment. Stan ate half his ham and cheese sandwich as well as his apple sauce and milk. He couldn't stomach the sugar cookie that came with it. By 12:30 Sharon had called, wanting to speak with her son. Stan allowed it, again, feeling slightly better for the time being.

"How has today been so far honey?" Sharon asked.

"I dunno. I guess I feel okay now but I know it can change. According to Dr. Fohlkoly this will be my longest treatment today."

"I know you can be brave Stanley. Remember, this is all to get you better, you have to let all the doctors and nurses do their job so it's easier on everyone."

"Yeah yeah…"

"Did you eat anything today?"

"A little. I had most of my lunch."

"That's good. How are you feeling overall right now baby?"

"Tired… I woke with my back hurting early this morning."

"I'm sorry Stanley. Wish I was there to help it go away…"

"It's okay…"

"I miss you baby. I love you so much and will see you next week, okay?"

"Okay… love you too…"

Stan handed the cell back to his father and leaned back into his pillows, eyes half-open. Seeing Stan's lids grow heavier by the second, Randy stepped out to finish his phone call with Sharon. Sure enough, when he returned five minutes later, the boy was asleep once more. By 2 PM, Dr. Fohlkoly arrived again for Stan's next dose of drugs. Not long after this course took place did Stan have another breakdown. The drugs made him feel sick and lightheaded as well as left him with a nasty acrid taste in his mouth. His lips and mouth had also gone bone-dry. At this point Randy took up a seat in Stan's bed and allowed him to cry into him.

"I wanna stop," Stan moaned.

"Not yet Stan, this treatment just started."

"I feel sick. Please make it stop…"

"I can't pal, I'm sorry. I wish I could. But do you know what might help? Brushing your teeth. Dr. Fohlkoly told you it could help ward of that icky feeling in your mouth. Plus you really have to be extra careful cleaning your teeth now. C'mon, let's get up and go to the bathroom."

Stan moaned again and had a hand over his head as Randy helped steer him into the bathroom, IV pole not far behind. It was close to five when Dr. Fohlkoly appeared for the final time that day. He began to unhook Stan from his IV lines and vital monitors.

"How are you holding up right now son?" the round man asked.

Stan shook his head and just curled into a ball in the bed.

"If you feel sick you can stay for a while longer. You don't have to stay overnight if you don't want, especially if you don't need to come in tomorrow. Take all the time you need Stan. Nurse Clara is now on call if you need someone, all right?"

Stan didn't say anything and so the doctor left. Randy turned to his son.

"Feel up to going back to the motel? We can grab a bite to eat somewhere on the way."

"Not hungry…" Stan mumbled.

"You aren't? Well I am. C'mon, surely you don't want to be cooped up in the hospital any longer."

"I just feel sick Dad. I don't want to get up yet."

"Then I'll carry you. C'mon Stan, let's end today on a high note."

"You can't. I just want to lie here, okay?"

Randy appeared not to hear a word of this. He went around the room and gathered the few things he had brought with him that morning before sitting Stan up and putting his shoes on his feet as well as his shirt and jacket, Stan moaning the whole while. Randy then hoisted the nine-year-old in his arms and went down and out of the hospital. Once in the car Randy suggested a few different places they could go to eat dinner.

"For the last time I don't care. I'm not hungry," Stan said angrily.

"We'll go somewhere that has something light for you," Randy spoke, again, not hearing him. "You can't go skipping meals Stanley; you need your strength now that you're going through chemo."

Randy chose Panera Bread so he could have a hearty sandwich for himself and a bowl of soup for Stan. Randy frowned when he saw Stan had not touched his food.

"Just a little Stan. Then you can have your muffie."

"I don't want the soup or the muffie. I just wanna go home," Stan stressed.

Randy bit his lip as he looked around, hoping no one was watching. "We'll go to the motel after this Stan. We'll do anything you want there."

"Not the motel, home."

Randy leaned in son only Stan could hear. "For the last time we can't do that Stan. You're staying in Denver for at least three weeks. I'm here this week and Mom will switch off next week. Got that?"

Stan sniffed and rubbed his nose.

"Now eat."

"I don't want to," Stan cried and hid his face in his arms on the table and sobbed. They were now getting a few looks from people nearby. Randy was flabbergasted; it had been years since his son had a public meltdown like this. He expected it at the hospital where children no doubt had meltdowns daily, but in a restaurant? "Stan- Stan, be quiet. People are looking."

Now it was Stan's turn to ignore him. Biting his lip again, Randy got up to get a couple take-out containers for the rest of his sandwich and Stan's soup before taking hold of Stan's arm and steering him out.

"What was that Stanley? That was unacceptable," Randy scolded on the drive to the motel.

Stan had stopped crying and was now looking out the window.

"You look at me when I'm talking to you mister."

Stan mumbled something.

"What? What did you say?"

"I wish Mom were here…"

Randy opened his mouth but then shut it, still angry at his son. "Well she's not Stan and won't be for another week. It's just you and me in a motel room so we're going to have to get used to it. I can't send you away to your room when you misbehave so you better start shaping up and making this easy on me."

At this Stan crossed his arms and looked out the window again. Easy for him? He wasn't going through this shit. He didn't get that some days would be tough. Today was particularly tough. The drugs really made him feel sick and left a bad taste in his mouth. Any time he wanted to sleep he was woken up by his doctor or nurse. His dad was great during the morning but somehow felt he needed to act as if this didn't just happen when they walked out of the hospital. He loved his dad but he just didn't get it. Maybe that's just how dads were. But Stan still did miss his mother, knowing she wouldn't expect him to be on his best behavior 24/7. She always knew what to say or do when he felt sick or was scared. But maybe that's just how moms were.

Stan had a rather difficult night. Randy still wasn't being forgiving on his recent behavior and did not offer up anything fun when they arrived at the motel.

"Your soup and muffie is here when you want it," Randy said stiffly as he put the nearly-full cup of tomato soup in the mini fridge.

Stan just lay on his side on his bed, back still hurting like it had all day. Randy however wasted no time and texted Sharon about the incident at Panera Bread. She of course was not on his side, stating 'of course he's going to act out. He just went through chemo today! Is that a common thing for a 9-yr-old?' Randy didn't bother to say good-night to his wife, instead left to figure out what to do about their son. He was currently in bed, listening to music on his ipod, earbuds in. Randy ended up watching the Food Network until it was close to nine. He turned to Stan who was now writing away in the journal Sharon had given him a few weeks ago. He frowned.

"You should get ready for bed Stanley. Go take a bath or shower or something."

Stan didn't say anything. He just glared and got up, grabbed a few things from his suitcase, and went into the bathroom, taking his journal with him. Stan took a bath, hoping it would sooth his tired body. Even after he changed and brushed his teeth he still took an extra few minutes to wrap up his journal entry for that night. He then went over to the small desk in the corner of the room, grabbed a couple of the prescription pain relief he had been written for last week, took out a water bottle from the fridge, and downed the pills. Stan gave Randy one last hard look before clicking off the light near his side of the bed and turning to his side under the covers. Grumbling, Randy turned off the other light so the only one on was the glare from the TV, clearly not tired himself yet. By eleven he finally decided to go to bed as well. At this point Stan was fast asleep, still sitting up slightly on his mound of pillows. Randy went over to him to make sure he was okay. He breathed deeply through his nose, the usual whistle coming from it. His hat was askew, exposing the black locks underneath. Randy did wonder how long it would be before he'd start losing his hair. He looked at his small hands; both held bruising that was no doubt a cause from repeated needle sticks over the week, the right one worse since it had just been stabbed at that day. Stan twitched in his sleep, no doubt dreaming of something unpleasant. The father sighed deeply, touching the hand.

"Just tell me what to do Stan, I'm trying, really, I am," Randy whispered. "I hate that you're hurting. I'm not trying to make things worse for you. Let's have a better day tomorrow, okay? Sleep tight pal…"

The two woke later the next morning. Randy looked over to see Stan slowly get up off his pillows.

"Hey kiddo. How'd you sleep?"

"Okay I guess."

"How's your back?"

Stan twisted side to side. "Better."

"That's good."

Stan looked at his hands. "Um, so what's for breakfast?"

Randy sat up now. "Why? Are you feeling hungry?"

Stan thought for a second. "I kinda am."

Randy smiled. "That's great. Why don't we grab something to eat?"

"Like what?"

"Want to go find a Denny's?"

Stan grinned. "Yeah, that sounds good."

Randy smiled wider, knowing it had been a full day since he saw a genuine smile on the boy's face. Randy began going about the room, looking for something to wear.

"We can go to the grocery store or mini mart today too, grab some things for the motel since we can't really cook in here. And then maybe tonight we can go catch the game on TV at a sports bar or something. Or we can watch it here and have our own little watch party."

"Yeah, okay," Stan agreed, getting off the bed as well.

"Anything else you'd like to do today?"

"I dunno, just walk around somewhere. Get fresh air. Try to find a nice park. Maybe find a Sports Chalet or something. I don't wanna be cooped up in a room today."

"That all sounds like a fine idea Stan. Go get dressed and we'll get some breakfast."

At Denny's Randy ordered a meat skillet breakfast while Stan had the Moons Over my Hammy sandwich. He only ate half but he still ate more that morning that all of yesterday and he drank all his milk. Randy couldn't help but text Sharon that Stan ate well and seemed to be in better spirits today which she was of course happy to hear. After breakfast the two went to find a sporting goods store in town. They found a locally run Sporting Zone Store that engaged Stan's love of sports. He found joy in looking at the many different footballs and other such things as well as test out baseball gloves and swing some baseball bats around. Stan did express how he wanted to swing an actual bat and throw a baseball so Randy went to look for something that wouldn't hurt the kid if he was accidently hit. He did find a light-weight bat and ball so decided to purchase it. Stan was very happy, stating Sharon wouldn't even consider it, fearing he'd hurt himself if he played catch. This made Randy happy too, knowing he had his son's back on some things that his wife would object to. He understood a boy's need to engage in sports and didn't want to deprive Stan of that, even if he was immediately pulled from his football, baseball, soccer, and karate practices after his diagnosis.

After the visit to the sporting gear shop, father and son went to look for a nice park to test out their new baseball equipment. They finally found one, William Burg Park, that had a large open baseball diamond to play on. There were a couple other older kids using it but Randy didn't seem too bothered by this. He opened up the light weight ball from its package and chose a spot to play ball.

"Want to pitch or hit Stan?"

"Hit."

Randy moved back several feet as Stan readied himself with the bat. He swung it a few times before nodding to his dad to pitch. He swung at it and missed. Randy pitched again which he also missed.

"Strike two! C'mon, you've got this," Randy encouraged.

Stan put his game face on. Tongue between his teeth he swung again and finally hit the ball far down the field. Randy went off to chase it.

"Nice line drive there! All right, let me try now."

Stan pitched as best he could with the ball but it was difficult since it was so lightweight. He gripped it and tried throwing a curveball but it was hard.

"This is hard, this ball sucks," Stan commented.

"Give it the best you can. C'mon, I'm ready," Randy said, swinging the bat around.

Stan drew in a breath and gripped it as a curveball again and threw it hard. Randy smacked the ball back and Stan threw his arms up as a reaction- where it hit his hand.

"Oh shit," Randy dropped the bat and hurried over. "I'm sorry Stan. Are you okay?"

Stan nodded, moving his left hand and wincing.

"Damn, that's probably going to leave a bruise," Randy looked troubled.

Stan shrugged. "Just add it to the collection. I have five already."

"Maybe we should stop…"

"No! C'mon, we just started."

"You got hurt Stan."

"No I didn't. C'mon, today is supposed to be about having fun. Doing stuff Mom won't do," Stan complained.

"How are we going to explain your bruised hand to Mom?"

"It's from IVs, not anything else," Stan said bitterly.

"Why- why don't you go to the playground for a little while? It looks pretty fun," Randy pointed off in the distance.

Sighing, Stan gave his dad the baseball and went to the playground. He went down a couple slides and ran around the playground with another kid around his age before going over to the swings. He pumped himself harder and harder, enjoying the feeling of the fresh air rushing past his face. Only he didn't last for too long; he soon felt lightheaded and his body began to hurt. He sighed as he came to a stop. He looked over to see a kid younger than him going higher and higher with no signs of slowing down. Stan got off the swing and went over to Randy who sat on a bench away from the playground. He looked surprised to see his son as it had only been a half hour.

"Hey son, done already?"

"I wanna go back to the motel now," Stan said wordlessly.

"O-okay… um, something happen?"

"I just wanna go back. I feel tired."

Frowning, Randy followed Stan back to the car. Once at the motel Stan dozed in his bed for an hour while Randy spent time on his laptop. He looked over to see Stan stir in his bed.

"Feeling better pal?" Randy asked.

"Guess so."

"Feel up to going anywhere else? Want to pick up a few things at the store?"

"Guess so," Stan said again.

The two made their way over to the local King Sooper's Grocery Store to pick out a few things for the week. Stan tried not to look too annoyed when he saw Randy load a pack of beer into the cart. Stan chose some Chewy Chips Ahoy cookies, apple sauce, chocolate pudding, string cheese, a few bananas, Lucky Charms, and a small carton of milk. What he really wanted to add to the cart was Doritos and Sprite but he knew the sharp edges of the chips were tear up his mouth and the soda would burn. He didn't realize just how many of his favorite foods were hard or crunchy in some ways when he began his restricted diet a week ago. By seven, Randy had ordered pizza in the hotel room and he and Stan settled in to watch the Rockies vs the Giants game on TV.

"Would you like to go to a game sometime this week?" Randy asked.

Stan sighed around his pepperoni and ham pizza. "I would but I don't think it would be a good idea."

"As long as you wear a facemask you should be okay."

Stan shook his head. "I don't want to risk it. Not yet. Maybe soon though. What if I get hit by a fly ball? I hate knowing we're so close to the field but aren't actually there right now."

"I hear you pal. But at least we can watch the game uninterrupted and just the two of us. How often does that happen?"

"Not too often," Stan admitted.

"Going-going-gone! Look at that, homerun to start off the game!" Randy cheered at the TV.

Really, it was all a rather pleasant night for the two of them. Stan was able to stay up the entire game without feeling tired and the Rockies beat the Giants 8-5. Maybe tomorrow's chemotherapy would go better. Maybe. The next morning Randy was able to get Stan out of bed after the first try however he was slow to get dressed.

"Let's make today better than Monday, okay? It's only a four-hour session today. We'll have the whole day to do anything else after," Randy spoke.

Stan didn't say anything, once again not feeling up to being poked by needles or feeling sick. He was able to stomach a normal-sized bowl of cereal before they left and was also able to get in the car easier than before, but as soon as they reached the hospital Stan was again reluctant to step inside.

"Please Stan, please make today easier for the both of us," Randy strained, pushing him forward. Once again Stan had to be led to the phlebology lab to have blood drawn and once again he didn't want to free up his arm for it to be taken.

"Stan please," Randy almost pleaded.

Stan didn't say anything, just laid his left arm on the armrest and looked away with a blank expression as Nurse Nate rolled up his sleeve and began searching for a vein. He stole a glance at the needle then turned away again as he was poked. An hour later they were given the green light that he could receive chemo that day so off they went to the seventh floor.

"How are you doing this morning Stan?" smiled the woman at the front desk, Cindy.

He just looked to the floor with the same subdued expression.

"He hasn't said much so far," Randy explained.

"Oh dear. Well hopefully we can make today a little happier. Does that sound like a plan Stan?"

Again, nothing from the boy. Trying to not look upset, Cindy asked Stan for his hand where she tied a hospital-issued band to his right wrist with his information on it, including Outpatient. Since it would be a relatively short visit Stan was led to a small room in the Outpatient section of the floor where a big cushioned reclining chair sat and a TV stood above. Dr. Fohlkoly came by a few minutes later to look over Stan before frowning at his left hand that now held a bruise on his pinky finger.

"What happened here son?"

"Nothing…"

"You didn't have it two days ago."

Stan didn't want to say; he didn't want to be scolded about how dangerous playing with soft baseballs could be.

"Is it something that might make me upset?" Dr. Fohlkoly asked gently.

Stan gave a great sigh. "I was accidently hit in the hand by a baseball. But it was a soft one- promise! I didn't go out playing actual baseball with actual baseballs. I didn't even bring my normal sport stuff. Only a mitt, so I"-

"Stan, calm down, it's okay."

Stan impatiently wiped his burning eyes. "I don't want you to take that away from me either. It was a soft ball and a lightweight bat. Please, my dad just bought it yesterday…." his voice wavered.

Dr. Folhkoly smiled. "Stan, calm down. It's okay. I understand that you wanted to do something fun yesterday. Accidents happen. But do promise you'll be extra careful next time, okay?" he glanced up at Randy as he said this. He sighed and got to his feet. "Well I think we can get started now. You'll only be on one drug today and it should only last a few hours. Just think, after one movie or so, you should be done! Any idea what you might like to watch?"

Stan held up a DVD of the Lord of the Rings- the Two Towers.

"Good choice," smiled the round man.

Stan took off his jacket without protest as Randy put the movie into the DVD player so Stan could be somewhat distracted. Perhaps it was a good thing he seemed so down today; his eyes were already on the TV screen and Dr. Fohlkoly was able to successfully start an IV line in Stan's left hand without him giving trouble. An hour went by. Randy sighed and got up, not wanting to sit and watch the movie the entire time.

"I'm going to the marketplace thing downstairs. Want anything?"

"No," Stan replied, eyes still glued on the TV. He was now curled up in the chair with a blanket draped over him.

Knowing he wasn't going to be missed, Randy took his time going downstairs. There he got himself a scoop of mango gelato and sat by a large open window nearby, looking outside. It was a nice warm day, he hoped Stan would want to go outside later. Not to his surprise, Sharon called him up to see how things were.

"I really don't know to tell you the truth," Randy said heavily. "He's been pretty distant this morning."

"Distant how?"

"He just isn't talking much. Looks almost depressed. Not looking anyone in the eye. The plus was he got out of bed easier and almost everything seemed easier today. The blood draw and his doctor starting up the IV. No crying or refusing to give up his arm. He's up in an outpatient room watching the Lord of the Rings now."

"Hmm, that does sound a little odd. He's been a mess every day so far when I was with him."

"He ate a normal bowl of cereal for breakfast which was good."

"That is good to hear."

"I'm hoping he feels up to going outside after this. It's in the 70s right now, we should take advantage."

"That would be nice. Well if he's too occupied with his movie perhaps I'll say 'hi' to him later."

"Guess so. Talk to you later then Sharon…"

Randy spent time walking around in the Garden of Hope again before going back up to his son's room. Stan had barely changed positions the hour he was gone. Randy had nothing else to do but finish watching The Lord of the Rings. The drug Stan was hooked up to had run its course minutes after the movie was over. Dr. Fohlkoly returned to take the line out and check Stan over.

"How are you feeling Stan?"

Stan shrugged. "A little tired and light-headed."

"Remember to take your medication if you need to if you're feeling nauseous. If you want to lie down for a little while here it's okay. I'll see you tomorrow at 1PM, okay Stan? Mr. Marsh?" the man nodded and left.

Randy gripped his son's shoulder. "Want to go and do something outside? It feels nice out right now."

"Maybe later. I feel worn-out right now," Stan spoke, looking at his gray socks.

"Worn-out how? You've been sitting watching a movie this entire time! You had plenty of time to nap if you wanted."

"I wanted to watch my movie. Now I wanna take a nap back in the motel."

"Stan, I really don't want us cooped up in the motel room for the rest of the day," Randy said heavily.

"Just for now. I just wanna nap first."

Trying not to look too annoyed, Randy handed over Stan's shoes and jacket and the two made their way back to the motel. Without a word Stan took off his hat and went under the covers of his bed. Randy really wish he had brought over more books or magazines to read if he had known Stan would be sleeping so much. It was close to four when Stan got up and said he wanted to go swimming. Randy was of course hesitant at the idea, afraid Stan would get hurt again. Stan reminded him that even Sharon allowed him to swim still; he just had to take extra precautions. Randy finally agreed. Stan wore special water shoes instead of flip-flops and had to cover himself from head to toe in sunscreen. He also had to be careful around the water and had to promise not to run around or do any tricks or flips. Stan swam a little in the pool before another kid around his age came over where Stan was hanging by the ledge by the shallow end.

"Hey, wanna race?"

"What do you mean?"

"Let's see who can swim from here to the deep end and back the fastest."

This was very tempting but Stan knew it wouldn't be safe.

"Um, not right now…"

"Why not? Can't swim?" the boy teased.

"I can so you douchebag! I just- can't."

"Ha! What a wuss, afraid to go to the deep end!" the boy laughed.

"I have fucking cancer you fuckhead!" Stan shot back at him.

The boy blinked, shocked, before swimming away from him. Stan sighed and went to get out of the pool too.

"Aww, already? You look like you were having fun," Randy complained.

"There's too many assholes around," Stan crossed his arms, standing next to the plastic chair his father was in.

"Well I still want to go back in…"

Stan sighed. "Go ahead. I wanna go back to the room. See ya." He took up the room key, wrapped a towel around him, and walked out. He took a shower when he got to the room then took some time looking at himself in the mirror, naked, after. He looked around his body. Two on his left hand. One in the crook of his left elbow. One on his right hand and another in the crook of his right arm. One on his right knee and another on the back of his left shoulder blade. Seven bruises in total. His eyes looked sunken in and his lips were dry and his entire body was sickly and thin. He ran a brush in his hair. Thankfully it appeared he still had a full head of hair and the chemo had not affected it yet. He dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt before sitting in front of the TV. Around six Randy came back up and after changing, turned to Stan.

"Are you feeling hungry for dinner?"

"A little. What's for dinner?"

Randy rubbed his neck. "Guess whatever is around. Don't really have much choice."

Stan sighed. "I miss Mom's cooking. I'm tired of eating out."

"Me too. Unfortunately there's not much room to store food here or to cook anything."

Stan sighed again. "So where should we go?"

"Up for a burger?"

"I guess…"

The two went to Wendall's Burgers and sat in near-silence. It looked as if Stan was back to being down again. Thankfully he did end up eating all of his burger and fries but was upset he couldn't have any soda since it would burn his mouth too much. He had iced tea instead. Randy asked again and again what he wanted to do after dinner and Stan simply said he didn't care. It was clear it would be another night spent watching TV or using the laptop. At the motel Randy turned on the TV to the Rockies game glancing at Stan every-so-often. He was sitting in bed, watching as well as writing in his journal. It seemed as if Stan's negativity was impacting the game; the Rockies were losing 4-0 to the Giants and it was only the second inning. By the fifth the score was 7-1 and Randy finally decided to change the channel. By nine, Stan went off to get ready for bed and was in bed by 9:15.

"Remember Stan, chemo isn't until one tomorrow, that's good, right?" Randy tried as he went to turn off the lights.

Stan only 'humfed' and turned to his side so his back was facing his father. Shaking his head, Randy went on his laptop for another hour before going to bed too. The next morning Stan woke to a sore back again and already irritable. He had a small bowl of Lucky Charms and watched TV until around 12:15 when Randy declared they should get ready to leave soon.

"Why? It's not until one," Stan complained.

"I don't want us to be late like we were a few days ago. And I don't know how you're going to act once we get there. It takes fifteen minutes to get to the hospital already so hurry and get ready."

Stan knew he had a point but didn't say so. He looked down, upset.

"Now Stanley. The doctors and nurses will be expecting us soon."

Stan didn't say anything, afraid his whining wouldn't be tolerated today. He however did stay rooted to the spot on his bed and made no effort to get ready.

"We are leaving now Stan. If you aren't in the car in five minutes I'm carrying you to it myself," Randy pointed out the door.

"Daaaaddd…" Stan said hoarsely.

"Get your shoes on, slippers. Whatever, I don't care. But we have to leave now."

A few minutes later Stan had successfully gotten out of the door and started to descend the stairs down to the car. He was halfway down them when he remembered about the couple of movies he wanted to bring with him on the bedside table. He doubled back to tell his dad and ended up colliding with him on the stairs, causing Stan to slip down a couple.

"Shit, shit, Stan, are you okay?" Randy bent down to him.

Tears filled his eyes, not from the pain but the sheer frustration he was already feeling for today. If this was any indicator of how today might go he wanted to throw in the towel already.

"I'm sorry, really, I am. I wasn't looking when I was going down. Where are you hurt?"

"Nowhere," Stan spat, cradling his left hand.

"Let's get back inside and see if you're not bleeding."

Glaring through tears, Stan went in after his dad to the motel room. Only then could he feel stinging on his left knee and hand. He had scraped both. Randy thoroughly cleaned the marks and placed Band-Aids on both, knowing infection was more of a probability than ever before. Twice now he had injured his son this week! He hoped no one at the hospital grew suspicious and thought he purposefully hurt him. Due to the incident they arrived after 1PM at the hospital. Randy had to drag Stan in this time.

"Hello Stan and Mr. Marsh," Bethany greeted. "How are we today?"

Randy just shook his head and walked to phlebology, Stan still being forced along the way. When Nurse Nate called his name he jumped. Randy set his son down to his feet.

"I don't want to," Stan cried.

"Not this again," Randy rolled his eyes.

"Stan, what's wrong?" Nurse Nate asked, walking towards him.

"I just don't want to do this today…"

"You know why, don't you? We have to see how strong and healthy you are," Nate said gently.

"Every time? I'm sick of having my blood drawn every fucking time I set foot here!" Stan raged.

Nate stepped back, shocked at the language he hadn't yet heard from the nine-year-old.

"Stan, we have to do this. I'm sorry. But I have a really neat sticker you can add to your collection when we're done. Want to see?"

"I don't want to see your fucking sticker!" again, Stan's screwed his face and fists in tight.

"Stan Marsh, you better stop this nasty behavior right now," Randy scolded.

"Mr. Marsh, if- if you allow me…" Nate put a hand up and went down to Stan's level. "Is something bothering you today kiddo?" he whispered so only he could hear.

"Just this…"

"I have an idea: why don't I get out a special book, Where's Waldo? Your dad or another nurse can hold it up and you can search for him while I take a blood sample. How does that sound?"

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose, upset but again knowing at this point he wasn't going to be able to cross the threshold out until after he had his blood drawn. He slowly nodded.

"Good boy… do you want Dad or someone else to help with today?"

"Someone else."

Randy tried not to look offended as he stood back in the room and watched as another nurse hold up a Where's Waldo? book to Stan as Nate drew from his right arm. It seemed to do the trick however, with Stan only glancing to his right a couple times. He even looked slightly happy at the giant Denver Broncos sticker he received after. Forty minutes later Stan was told his blood count was stable enough to receive treatment today. Stan began to cry on the elevator ride to the seventh floor and once they got to the landing, Stan buried his face in Randy's side.

"Oh dear, I was hoping he would have a better start for today," sighed the receptionist Suzie.

Once again Stan was separated by a nurse and the same woman that had talked to Randy before sat down with him in another room.

"He's just having a bad day," Geena said.

"It seems like every day is a bad day for him!" Randy cried. "What am I doing wrong? I don't want to force him to come here but I know there's no other choice. I wish he were comfortable with me being there for him. Sure I may not dish out all the hugs and kisses like his mother but I'm still his dad. He's still my son, I want to be there for him," Randy placed his hands over his face dramatically.

"You aren't doing anything wrong. It will take time before things run a little smoother. This is only Stanley's second week of chemotherapy. It's a hard thing to go through no matter what age, but at age nine, where all he's known is having fun and playing outside… this is a very sudden shift. Trust me, you being here does make a difference and I'm sure Stanley is glad that you are here," Geena explained.

"He seems so annoyed with anything I do," Randy sighed.

"Again, he'll be annoyed with many things for a while. Everything is changing for him, his taste buds, sense of smell, foods… it can all change and be confusing. Just respect what he does and does not want and comfort him in times of need. I know many boys might be uncomfortable at the thought of added comfort from their fathers but Stanley will want it. He just can't find the words…"

Randy nodded. "He's a pretty emotional kid already. I- I don't want him to think I'm pushing aside his feelings but it's hard when he acts up in public. It's been a long time since he's had a meltdown in a restaurant or other place. People stare…"

"Remember, do what is best for your child. Of course not everyone will understand or be sympatric. That's okay. With the heightened and changing senses he's experiencing places that Stan was fine at before can be overwhelming. Especially if he just came back from treatment."

Randy's gut burned a little; not taking into account any of this the other night. It made sense now. The two adults talked for a few more minutes before once again the father was lead to room 1312. He saw that Stan was sitting up in the bed with a nurse and Dr. Fohlkoly. He was wearing a hospital gown with cars on it today.

"Everything okay?" he frowned.

"Stan here didn't want to start unless you were with him," spoke the oncologist.

Randy could feel his gut swell with happiness now. "R-really? You want me here pal?"

Stan nodded, tear tracks still on his face. He mumbled something; Randy bent down to hear him.

"Still don't wanna be here…"

Randy placed a hand on his shoulder. "You have to son. I'm sorry. I really am."

Stan didn't say anything but give a deep shuddered breath.

"What…do you want to do that might distract you Stan?" Randy asked, taking a seat on a chair next to him.

Stan looked down. "Just- just hold my hand. Please."

"Of- of course."

Dr. Folhkoly nodded once to Randy and to the nurse before rolling a tray over to the boy's right side and snapping on latex gloves.

"Now I'm going to try to start a line in your right hand today Stan. Looks like you had another little injury to your left so I'd like to leave it alone."

Randy still felt horrible for the bruise and scrape on Stan's left hand.

"I'm going to tie the band around now, okay? And look for a good vein…" Dr. Fohlkoly went about to look for a vein. It took several long seconds before one came forth. He tried but the vein collapsed before he could continue. "I'm so sorry Stan. Looks like that one didn't want to stay put today. Let me see if I can find another…" however his right hand did not yield a suitable vein for the time being so Dr. Fohlkoly went to try the left forearm with the same results. At this point Stan was squeezing Randy's hand for dear life. "I'm sorry son. I really really am. I think you might be a little dehydrated; your veins aren't cooperating today. I'm so sorry," he frowned when Stan let out a sob. He sighed and rolled his chair back. "Let's take a breather, go on…"

Stan wasted no time burying his face in his dad's open arms. It was just as he feared; a horrible morning to be the predictor of how today would go. Of course he expected he would have rough days but so far that's all that they ended up being. He couldn't help but not want to be here each time. Nothing good came from it so how could he possibly have a 'good' day of chemo? It made no sense. All too soon he was being told they had to try to start up a line in his right forearm. This he did not want; there was a reason they never started an IV line in the same spot they drew blood from an hour before. His arm still felt sore at the spot and there was already a pinprick there. But once again he was told he had no choice. They could try starting a line in less desirable spots such as the foot or jugular and this only made him more nauseous. For one last time Stan held onto his dad's hand as he felt the band go above his right elbow for the second time that day and the horrible sensation of a finger running down it. He felt the finger pause at the location almost exactly where his blood was taken from earlier. At this point he didn't have to see the needle; he saw it too many times in the last five minutes. He gasped and squeezed Randy's hand and soon felt the special tape being placed over the spot to keep the thin tube in place, indicating they had 'struck gold' and found a successful vein. At this point Dr. Fohlkoly was explaining about what drugs were being used and why but he wasn't listening. Such-and-such drug might cause such-and-such side effect. It didn't matter. He already wanted to throw-up. Finally Dr. Fohlkoly said he would be back in four hours after the first dose ran its course.

"How you holding up Stan?" Randy asked gently.

Stan shook his head. "I just wanna be alone for right now. Please."

Randy nodded, feeling he was a little more useful already today than last treatment since Stan had specifically sought him out for comfort. Randy had been in the lounge for less than an hour before he was notified that Stan had become sick. He raced to his side as a nurse held a bedpan under Stan's mouth for him to puke in. He was then taken to the bathroom to brush his teeth before going back to the bed and given a couple pills to help with the nausea. At this point Randy felt his cell vibrate and saw that it was Sharon. He stepped out to take her call.

"How has he been so far today?" was the first thing she asked, as she had every day so far.

"Bad, he's been real bad today Sharon," Randy confessed.

"Bad? How?"

"He's feeling sick, they had troubles finding a good vein to start an IV… he's been in tears since we got here. I don't know what to do Sharon, I feel so bad for him. The poor kid."

There were a couple muffled sounds on the other end and he knew she was trying to compose herself at the news too.

"He wants me there but then he doesn't," Randy continued. "Like he's trying to be brave for someone. But this sucks, we all know that. The people here keep telling me that things will change and he'll respond better but when? When will they change? When will he not put up a fight when he has to step foot here? I don't know what to do Sharon…"

"My poor baby… I- I have to see him. I have to be there for him."

"You have to work. And apparently he's been like this when you've taken him in last week so would things really be any different?"

"My son is having a terrible day so far, I have to be there for him," Sharon emphasized angrily.

"Sharon…"

"I will pack an overnight bag and leave within the hour. Dr. Tom will understand. I'll call the Harringtons and see if they won't mind Shelley staying the night there. I doubt she'll want to come up then go back home over the weekend. But I can't stay here and work knowing Stanley is having such a tough time. Just don't tell him I'm coming, I want it to be a surprise," Sharon hurriedly said.

"Okay… I'll stay quiet. Let's hope traffic isn't too bad. Call me when you're here."

Five hours had passed and Stan was still feeling miserable. Nothing anyone said or did made him feel better. It's not as if their efforts went over his head, he simply was having a crummy day and sometimes it felt better to continue the day feeling like crap than to feel any joy. His stomach still burned and he still felt light-headed. He laid down for a nap as soon as Nurse Brenda started him on his next round. Thankfully after a while no one came around to ask him if he wanted to do anything. He didn't. He wanted to sit or lay in his own misery today. It was nearly six o'clock and he was lying on his side, looking at the window and wishing he were on the other side of it. He heard the door open and shut. He sighed, another person to pester him.

"You have a visitor this evening Stan," Nurse Brenda's voice said behind him.

Stan shrugged. "Whatever."

At that moment he felt a warm hand touch his cold arm. The touch was very familiar. He turned around and saw-

"Mom?"

"Hi sweetie," Sharon smiled sadly.

"Mom! What- how-?"

"Apparently you've had a pretty rough day today. I wanted to come see you."

Stan said nothing and wrapped his arms around her neck as she wrapped hers around him. He felt tears burn in his eyes as the dark cloud above his head lightened slightly. Sharon rubbed circles in his back and before he knew it, he was crying onto her sweater. She said nothing, just continued to hold him. After several long minutes he let up and was given tissues to blow his nose.

"Why are you here?" he asked as he wiped his eyes. "You have to work."

"I told Dr. Tom I had to leave due to an emergency. And I consider this an emergency."

"But I thought you weren't coming out until next week."

"I still am. I can only stay for tonight but I had to make sure you were doing okay. What am I saying? You're feeling awful. I couldn't stay home knowing how hard this week has been for you."

"It's not as if Dad's been horrible…" Stan said to his bruised hands.

"I know but for my sanity I had to see you. Call it intuition, but I had to be here for you baby." She rubbed his thumb on his damp cheek.

"Thanks. Um, I'm happy you did."

Sharon raised a brow at his still blank expression. "Are you really Stan? When people say they're happy they usually smile."

Stan shrugged.

"Where's your smile young man? I didn't drive five hours up here to not see my son smile."

Stan felt the corners of his mouth pull slightly in a grin. This satisfied Sharon enough and she gave him a kiss on his forehead. She looked over to his arms and hands and saw a few Band-Aids on both sides. "Poor thing… that couldn't have been fun earlier… but what happened here?" she held up his left hand.

"Oh, um, Dad accidently ran into me this morning. I slid on some stairs outside the motel room."

"Oh dear. Seems you can't escape injury even when you're extra careful." She looked at the time on the clock ahead. "Are you feeling hungry? Want me to get you something from downstairs?"

Stan shook his head. "Feel too sick today."

"Why don't we get up, even if it's just to walk around the room? I don't want you to get bed sores."

Stan nodded and slowly placed his sock-covered feet onto the cool linoleum flooring. He really didn't want to go out of the room and interact with others so he walked slowly around the room as Sharon held his IV stand. By seven Stan took up a seat in a chair to use the computer in the room. Sharon looked behind her and noticed Randy was outside the door. She looked over to Stan.

"Daddy and I are going to get a bite to eat downstairs, okay?"

"Okay."

Sharon kissed his cheek. "We won't be long. See you soon."

Randy shook his head as he and his wife went to the elevators down to the main level. "How do you do it?"

"Do what?"

"That. He was up and walking and smiling. He wouldn't do anything with anyone today."

Sharon shrugged. "Sometimes all a child needs is a hug from mom."

"I guess. He did want me to hold him earlier though but then wanted me gone."

Sharon could only shrug again. "Again, sometimes it's something only a mother can help with. Not to put you down but it's not something you'd understand."

Stan's chemo ended by eight but at this point he was feeling too sick to want to leave. Like last time Randy argued that he didn't want him to stay overnight at the hospital if he didn't need to but Sharon bit back that if that's what Stan wanted then they'd have to respect that. He did however ask for a change of clothes and his blanket from home that he left at the motel. Both Randy and Sharon decided to grab the items and both made the decision to stay the night at their son's bedside. The three watched a movie before Stan went to take a bath in the adjacent bathroom in his hospital room and got into bed. Randy took up the sofa-like bench to sleep on and another cot was rolled in for Sharon to sleep on as well. By eleven both parents were fast asleep. Stan reached to his bedside table to take hold of his journal and a flashlight and began to finish the day's entry.

The next morning came by and soon Sharon had to return home. Stan tried not to look too upset at this; his dad would still be there and his mother would come back next Wednesday. The three of them had breakfast downstairs at the Fresh Marketplace in the hospital before going to the motel room and saying goodbye there. Once again Sharon bent down to her son's level and touched his arm.

"I'll be here again soon baby. Try to be brave until then, okay? I know it's hard but you have to try."

Stan nodded to the ground.

Sharon stood and faced Randy. "You'll inform me if anything changes of course?"

"Of course."

They shared a kiss before she waved at them and got into her car and left for South Park. Stan drew in a shuddered breath, hoping he'd feel braver the next couple rounds of chemo before his mother would be back. He didn't want to disappoint her, his dad, or himself but he would only be going into his third week. Still a lot to get used to and accept. But at least that day he would be open-minded and try to do a few things around town with his dad so they could both catch a break from hospital walls.

Again, hopefully you have read How the Darkness Sounds before this. If not, please do read that story when you get a chance. I felt inspired to get back to that world and to expand on what happened in it. I am currently make small edits to it and the majority of my South Park stories so keep checking back to see if you can spot any differences. Please leave a review for this and other stories. Thanks a ton.

Lots of love: Rose, November 8, 2018