Chapter 1

I hate my life. I hate that everyone always convinces me to write stories that are going to make me cry. Arghhh. You can blame this one on my friend Tilly. Yell at her in the reviews if you want. I'll make sure she reads them.

I don't want to tell you anymore than you get while reading this, except I END UP WRITING SAD STORIES A LOT. gaaahfdasjklj. BUT I LOVE IT. YOU KNOW I LOVE IT. AND YOU. I LOVE YOU.

...This is going to be rough. AND I LOVE YOU AND I UNDERSTAND IF YOU AREN'T READY TO JOIN ME ON ANOTHER ANGST FILLED ADVENTURE. But I promise I would love it if you did. And I think you would love it in the end.

TW: Cancer, proceed at your own risk.

The title comes from Fight Song by Rachel Platten.

Chapter 1

TPOV

He was tired. Exhausted might have been a better word. The kind of exhausted you felt in your bones. He held his daughter's hand as they walked through the big, imposing doors to the children's hospital. She was as happy as she always was, skipping beside him. He was so glad that the crushing worry he was feeling hadn't touched her yet. He would protect her fiercely, with everything that he had, but he wasn't sure that he could keep her safe from this.

She hummed something vaguely familiar under her breath as they stepped into the heavy hitting air conditioning. He paused, kneeling down and adjusting the jacket her had put her in in the car in anticipation. Hospitals were always outrageously frigid. As if sick people didn't have enough problems... they didn't need to worry about catching a cold as well. "Are you alright, princess? Not too hot?"

She shook her head, her little blonde pig tails smacking her cheeks. "No daddy! I'm perfect," she smiled at him and kissed his cheek.

"Abby," he said softly, tugging lightly on one of her pigtails. "I know this can be scary, but-"

She rolled her eyes in a way that he thought he wouldn't see for about ten more years. "It's not scary, Daddy. Last time the nurse gave me candy and a sticker and you took me for ice cream. I can get stabbed by needles a few more times if you take me to Dairy Queen again."

"I don't think this is going to be more tests," he said lightly. "Although we can still go get ice cream. I think this is going to be them telling us why you have those bruises on your arms."

Abby touched his cheek her her hand, trying to comfort him like she had seen him comfort her in the past. "I probably fell off my bike, Daddy. I live a very tactive lifepile."

He laughed a little bit, standing back up and taking her hand. He wished he could carry her, but she had a thing about wanting to look grown up in public. There were things he would fight for, but not this. Especially not today. She could cartwheel in for all he cared, as long as she was happy. He wasn't sure how long it would last. She had been getting tired so quickly and so easily lately. He wished she would let him carry her, but he would let her walk for as long as she showed him that she could handle it.

"Abby!"

His spitfire of a daughter tore around the corner, jumping into his arms. "Daddy! Look what I made for you today. It's a chicken dressed like a ballerina, because that's what I want to be when I grow up. Don't tell the other kids, but Mrs. Park said that it was her favorite one. She tried to steal it from me so she could hang it on her fridge, but I told her no! I told her it was for my Daddy, and-"

He chuckled, lifting her into his arms and pressing a kiss to the top of her head. "That is the most beautiful drawing that I've ever seen, baby. Can I put it in my wallet so I can show everyone?" He asked her seriously. The guys he worked with all had kids too, so they could shut up and indulge him when he wanted to show off his daughter's ballerina chicken.

She nodded enthusiastically. "That's an even better idea! I think you should especially show it to Mr. Jim. I met his daughter at that pickernic in the summer time and she was mean. So he should probably see that I'm a better drawerer than his meanie daughter is."

He laughed as he wrangled her wriggling body into the car seat in the back. "Sit still, princess. I need to get you strapped in and then we'll go to Aunt Emily's house for dinner. Does that sound good?"

Abby nodded happily, taking her jacket off as soon as she was in the warmth of the car. He frowned, gently snagging her wrist and examining it closely. "Abigail, what happened to your arm?"

She frowned at his question and his use of her full name. She took her arm back and looked at it with a wrinkled forehead. "I don't know. Maybe I bumped it at recess?"

That was his first indication that something was wrong, but it certainly wasn't his last.

He walked into her room with a frown. It wasn't normal for him to have to wake her up. Usually she was up with the sun. Usually she was jumping on his bed like a monkey, waking him up. "Abby?" He asked softly, his voice a gentle whisper in her dark room. "Are you awake?"

He heard her whimper and his concern immediately heightened. He crossed the room in two long strides, kneeling neck to the bed and pulling the covers back just enough so he could see her face. "What's wrong?" He demanded in as gentle a voice as he could manage. "Are you okay?"

"I don't feel good," she cried, crawling across the bed and into his arms. He caught her, holding her tightly. She didn't have a fever, but he was struck by how cold she was. It felt like she had been outside in the middle of winter without a coat. "Are you cold, baby?"

She nodded into his neck. "But you're not," she whimpered. "And I feel dizzy, Daddy. I feel like I'm going to fall down if I try to stand up."

He closed his eyes. He had been scared before, but this was different. Because if he could he would take on every ounce of her pain without any hesitation at all. He would gladly shoulder all of this if his daughter didn't have to go through it. Because he was afraid that this was something so much worse than a little cold. "Okay, I'm going to call and see if I can get you into the doctor tomorrow.

He stepped into the elevator, keeping a solid grip on her hand. The last thing he needed was to lose her while he was lost in his thoughts. His greatest indicator happened the day of their first doctor's appointment.

He sat in front of the TV, watching the news, waiting for her to come out. Usually he gave her some guidance in getting dressed, but today he didn't care if she came out dressed like a combination of Cat Woman and a Disney princess. He stared at the TV, forcing himself not to go to her room.

"Daddy?"

At her wavery voice he shot to his feet, turning around to look at her immediately. His heart plummeted at the sight of blood covering her face and starting to run down her white shirt. He closed the gap between them, kneeling in front of her and taking her shoulders in his hands. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She shook her head, her tears making tracks on her bloody face. "No," she whimpered. "Blood just started to pour from my nose, and it tastes like pennies. Daddy, I'm scared."

He took her in his arms, paying no mind to the blood that was transferring to his skin and shirt. He said a silent prayer to whichever god was listening to take whatever it was that was plaguing her body and putting it on him. It was okay if they magnified it times one hundred. It was okay if he dropped dead right here. Because he was now positive that something was wrong, and he prayed with everything inside of him that it didn't have to be her.

He finally picked her up when they got to the correct floor, because he could feel her slowing down. She had been getting more and more tired lately, and she needed to keep up her strength, especially if they got bad news today. She clung to him, which immediately showed him that she felt worse than she was letting on. He pressed his lips to her hair as he carried them both down the long, intimidating hallway.

"Daddy, am I sick?" Abby whispered, her voice so soft that someone right next to them wouldn't hear her.

He took a long time trying to figure out how to answer. "Maybe," he decided on, unwilling to lie to her. "but if you are we'll find a way to beat it, okay? You'll be fine," he said with confidence. Because there wasn't a single thing in the world he wouldn't do to ensure his daughter's safety. He would do anything for that little girl.

She nodded tiredly, her head bobbing against his shoulder. He nudged his way through the door, settling Abby down on a chair that was much too big for her. She looked tiny as she curled up against the seat, pulling her body into a small ball. "Hey," he whispered, pushing her hair back. "I love you, Princess. I promise that everything will be alright, okay? We'll find a way to make you feel better."

She nodded again, smiling a little bit this time. "I know we will, Daddy. You're basically a superhero."

He had to choke back tears as he walked to the desk, checking them in. She had to be okay. She was all that he had, and he refused to lose her. He weighed the pros and cons of calling Jenna as he walked back to his daughter, but as always, even still, the cons vastly outweighed the pros. There was no reason to bring back the woman that had abandoned them days after Abigail was born. He didn't deserve anything, but his daughter deserved infinitely better.

He lifted Abby up and deposited her into his lap as he sat back down. He ran his fingers through her hair as he waited. He was pretty sure that she had fallen asleep, but he still continued. All he cared about right now was making her feel safe and comfortable. Anything else was a secondary concern.

He wiped away the first tear that he had allowed himself to shed all day. He was crying in anticipation. He didn't have to wait for the doctor. He knew what he was going to say. He wasn't an idiot, and she had almost every single sign and symptom. He was terrified, but he was terrified because he was pretty sure he knew what was about to happen. He was pretty sure he knew how drastically their lives were about to change.

"Toby?"

He tensed, pretty confident that he was imagining hearing the one voice that he never thought he'd hear again. It was funny had a voice that had once given him so much joy could only produce confusion and apprehension now. "Spencer?"