Hello fandom buds, I hope you aren't mad at me for not updating in awhile :( An excuse won't make it better, but maybe a new story will! This story is written in authors P.O.V only. Decided to try something new. I would love some CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, I don't mean story bashing. This will be a Sick!Chase story, since I know many of you like that lol. So enjoy the story, and warning: This story may take long to update, not too long though, but because of the length of the chapter, (though this one sing super long). But, I am looking for a good BETA READER to maybe help me edit the story and revise, so pm or review if you want the job! Thanks and review!
Chase always was the smart one. He knew everything, and he wanted things to stay this way. Normal. But training every night, having a microchip lodged in your neck, and saving the world on a daily basis isn't normal. So one of the worst things Chase could do was expect life to be cool, calm, and collected. And when he did such, things took a turn of the worst.
Normality was a thing Chase ached for. He wanted to be accepted, live a normal life. We'll, perhaps not normal. But a life as normal as being the youngest of 3 bionic super humans can be. But when they heard news of Krane searching for revenge, things took a turn for the worst. They could prepare all they want, but nothing could prepare them for the day when Krane and his monstrous army attacked. But was worse, was when their leader contracted a deadly illness. Their chances of winning were slipping like salt on a baseball bat. It just wasn't going to happen. They all started to feel defeated, and act defeated. They had given up on Chase as well as their future of a Krane-free life. Chase couldn't let them carry on like this, for he knew what the future held. It was his job to be strong, for his family, for the world, but this battle, is easier said than done.
It was fifth period when his body couldn't take anymore. His hair was matted to his forehead, his eyes looked like they had been punched with their tired purple rings surrounding them, his legs were stumbling over each other as if his bones had vanished, his chest felt like a fire covered brick was laying on it, and his body felt like was taking a nap on the sun, while his body looked like he's never experienced warmth in his short life with his body's violent shivers. He leaned on Leo perhaps in a friendly way, his arm draped over Leo's shoulder as they moved, but he was actually using Leo as a cane as they both talked and walked to class. The perks of having Leo as a brother is he doesn't notice anything, absolutely oblivious to reality! We'll, until you touch his cold cuts...then there's a problem.
It's not that he wanted to suffer, trust me, he didn't, but Chase couldn't bear the thought of people seeing their trustworthy, courageous, honorable mission leader weak. He had a reputation to uphold, and he wasn't going to let a silly little head cold get in the way of that.
Unfortunately for Chase, he had Biology fifth period, and today was the day they would be dissecting frogs. Because it was so late in the day, and earlier classes had had the same task, the smell of frog guts was lingering all over the classroom. And the huge fan the teacher had placed in the classroom because of the dysfunctional AC, was not at all helping Chase's lurching nausea. But he did try. Oh boy he did, but Ms. Ambrosia, Chase's favorite teacher, couldn't and wouldn't ignore the pale skin and unfocused eyes her student showed to the class as he walked up front to get his lab coat.
What Chase didn't realize was Ronni, a classmate of his whom he's talked to a few times in the hallway, was eyeing his actions suspiciously and decided to alert the teacher of his doings.
"Class proceed with the instructions provided, I will be back in a minute. Chase, may I have a word out in the hall?" The teacher said, her smooth voice silencing the class as they deliberately got to work.
"Chase, a student told me you looked as if your not feeling too well, and now that I look you do seem under the weather. Is everything ok?" The teacher asked, her head tilting, and bending her knees to meet Chase at eye level once they reached the vacant hallway.
"I'm fine ma'm, I feel alright," he convinced. But noticing the student start to sway, she takes hold of his arm in concern and places a cold hand against the boys molten forehead.
"Hunny, you need to see the nurse urgently, I'll have Ronni take you," she orders, her features molding into one of true concern.
Knowing there was no way to escape this one, he allowed the lady's concern and was led down the hall by the light-skinned female, who kept throwing Chase concerned looks each time he was forced to slow down dramatically by his protesting body.
Not even half way there, Chase felt his knees give out and he fell with a small thud, as his boney knees hit the hard floor. He winced when Ronni let out a small shriek before jumping down next to the sickly boy, bringing on her girl scout medical knowledge she learned all those years ago. She promptly decided to sit him down on his bum, so his short legs stuck out and leaned numbly outward. She kneeled next to him, an arm around his shoulders as he started to cough. He didn't want to admit it, but he felt slightly comforted by the girl, and her skittle candy smelling perfume he whiffed as she worked around his body trying to figure out what to do. She seemed to be doing fine helping him with his, apparently, persistent coughing by patting his back, but she lost control when he started spewing out non ending amounts of throw up. The sight of the thick blood embedded in his sick made her feel dizzy, but she took all the strength she could muster to remain calm. At that point, she retorted to yelling down the hallway for help.
After about a minute, a nurse and a few teachers came running down the hallway to see what the commotion was. By the time they had gotten there, Chase had started to gasp for air as if his lungs were drowning. His lips were turning blue and he started to sound like a fish out of water as he tried to suck in what little air his lungs were capable of taking, which was little to none at that point. There were several teachers around, calling an ambulance and Chase's parents, though he noticed none of them as he started crying and his energy started draining drastically. Before he lost consciousness, he vaguely heard several footsteps and the skidding of wheels burst in from the front door. He started to lean into Ronni's lap, grabbing her arm, and pulling it close to him. The last thing he felt was something being placed on his face and the sensation of being moved around and touched by many hands.
When he woke, he could tell it wasn't a happy feeling drifting through the room. More like a feeling of disparity, tragedy, and plain sadness. It wasn't a pleasant feeling at the least. He blinked open his eyes, wincing at the overall brightness of the room, coming from the window and the busy hallway. But the first thing he noticed was that he was not sick at home with his mom patting his forehead soothingly with a damp cloth, his dad holding him tightly in his lap while his siblings try to entertain him with bored games, no. He was somewhere new, and frankly he didn't like new. He liked familiar, which means he has knowledge about it. Thus making him the smartest person in the world. New means there's a possibility someone else knows more than you, and Chase definitely doesn't like that.
Suddenly anxious to take in his surroundings, Chase jerks up his body, but falls back with a wince when pain suddenly shoots up all his limbs. His dad, Mr. Davenport, notices his struggles and rushes over, scrambling for the remote and placing Chase's bed into a sitting position.
"Better buddy?" He sniffles to his son.
"Where am I?" Chase asks, ignoring the question. He looks into eyes, desperation and pain glowing in his hazel orbs.
"Your at the hospital buddy, your very sick," his dad informs, his voice crack evident to everyone in the room. It's painfully obvious at any moment the man may crack and break down into sobs so Chase's mother, step mother, scrambles over to the bed, stuffing tissues into her jeans pocket.
"How long was I asleep?" Chase asks his dad has he takes a seat in the chair his wife recently occupied.
"5 days," his dad whispers, seeming to find the floor more interesting then his son's frightened face.
"Hey baby, we were all worried about you," she smiles, rubbing a delicate thumb over Chase's cheek.
"Why? Whats wrong with me?" His eyes shoot open even more, and he tightens his hands into fists to keep them from shaking so badly.
"How about you take a rest and we'll tell you later?" His mom says wearily.
"I've 'taken a rest' for 5 days, I want to know now!" Chase grumbles, getting frustrated with his parents actions and weariness.
"You have Leukemia Chase."
"Good morning Mr. Davenport and Mrs. Davenport, hey Chase!" The doctor announces as he walks in and plops on a rolling stool. He looks over at Chase's mom and shakes her hand, then does the same with Mr. Davenport who was sitting on the check-up bed with a mute Chase in his lap. He looks over at Chase who was twisted in his father's lap, facing the doorway instead of the others in the room, but decides the child isn't in the mood for much physical contact by the look on his face.
Ever since Chase has gotten the news of his illness, he's been acting out, becoming frustrated with everyone, and just won't follow instructions. It's almost as if he's given up on life already. He also begged his parents not to tell his siblings, instead tell them it was a bad case of the flu. Luckily for him, they didn't care to much, so the lie was believed with no questions asked. But Chase, he couldn't keep his mind off his current situation. His parents couldn't even trust him to sit on the check up bed by himself, knowing he will either yell at the doctor, run out the room, or kick the doctor in the face while he continues his examination.
"So Chase, how are you feeling today?" The doctor starts, eyeing his chart. Not hearing a response after a few seconds, he looks up at the boy to find Chase staring at the bed, away from him, ripping up the paper laid neatly on top for sanitation.
His dad notices his lack of response and turns his attention to the boy. He goes wide eyed at the boy's mess of paper and quickly grabs the small pale hand and clenches it to the side.
"Chase, stop and pay attention to the nice man," his dad whispers sternly in his ear. With a roll of his eyes, Chase shifts his body to the front and looks at the doctor with a lazy expression. Seeing as her son isn't going to talk, Tasha decides to do the talking instead.
"Well he has been throwing up, he's had joint pain, sometimes it's so bad he's unable to get out the bed, and he's had nosebleeds, although the doctor informed us that may happen. He also has been in bed with headaches, and he's been fatigued, the medication doesn't seem to be working well," Tasha explained, a very troubled look taking over her face.
Chase turns to face the door again, aggravated at his mom spilling his weaknesses to a man he just met a few minutes ago. His frustration makes his dull headache start to ache more, and subconsciously leans into his dad. Sensing his discomfort, his dad wraps an arm around him and leans his body close, wishing he could take the pain away from his son.
"Dad, my stomach hurts," Chase whines hoarsely when the doctor leaves the room for a test. Chase throws his head back and scrunches his eyes much like a young child as he grips his stomach loosely.
"It's ok Chase, we can leave as soon as the doctor comes back with your tests. We'll head to the pharmacy and get a refill of pain medication as well," his mom assures. Chase groans and falls back on the bed.
"Chase lighten up, your almost done, when you get home you can take a nap and have some soup." His dad convinced, putting his arm under Chase's middle back and lifting him upward, his paralyzed body sagging.
"Guys, I have some bad news, it seems as if Chase's white blood cell count is Los and his cancer seems aggressive so it seems we have to start chemotherapy as soon as possible." The doctor sighs, leaning on the table.
"How soon?" Mr. Davenport gulps.
"Tomorrow at 2:00."
"Ok, we'll be here tomorrow, can we give him pain medication tonight?" Tasha asks.
"Sure, he can't have any medicine in his system for the chemotherapy, but if you give him one now it should wear off before tomorrow," the doctor nods.
"Ok, thanks doctor...?" Tasha starts, shaking his hand.
"Dr. Andrews," the doctor supplies.
"Thanks." Tasha nods.
Mr. Davenport picks up Chase, who is trying not to pass out from the pain in his head, and carries him out to the car.