This is a touchy story for me, and chances are, if you've known or know someone with cancer, this story might do the same to you.
AND, it's longest one-shot I've ever written :D
DISCLAIMER: Ronan is by Taylor Swift. I hold no copyright for it, but the framework for my story rests on it. Thanks to Wikipedia for my definition and oh, BTR is not mine as well.
We'll Fly Away
"RILEY!" Kendall shouted from the kitchen, "Didn't I tell you to move your toys an HOUR ago?!"
The small fair-haired boy peeked guiltily from behind the wall. "Daddy…?" He called in a small voice.
His father gathered the toy cars in his arms and strode towards his son. He lifted his eyebrow. "Remember these?" he said, his voice a deathly calm.
"Oh, sorry daddy," he gushed, speaking as only a three year old could, "I forgot." He lifted his small hands so that his dad could put them.
"Riley, what am I going to do with you?" Kendall sighed, fondly ruffling the boy's hair. It were his eyes, and his voice… Innocence echoing in every iota of the boy's being. And it didn't help much that with each passing day, something reminded him more and more of his ex-wife.
"Thank you, daddy," the boy said, gathering them comfortably in his arms being scooting back into his bedroom. Kendall could only shake his head. That boy. Only three and already knew how to mess with his father's head and heart.
And then he remembered something.
"Hey RILEY!" he called again. The boy stepped out of his room, covering his ears with both hands. "Daddy's talking really loud today," he complained.
"Oh baby, Daddy's sorry," Kendall apologised, holding his ears. "it's just that your… Uncle Logan's coming over… for dinner." He spoke slowly, watching the understanding dawn over his son's face.
"Oh no," the boy said paling, "You want me to shower now?"
"Please. For Daddy? And uncle Logan wouldn't want his favourite nephew looking stinky, now would he?"
The blond mulled it over. "Okay," was all he said before disappearing into his room. "Come soon, OK daddy? I don't like putting on the pipe."
"Of course."
…
Their bathroom was small, and the evidence that there was a small child living in the house was obvious. Crayon lined the walls where his little hands could reach; Rubber duck sat on the cabinet shelf; Stickers framed the mirror.
Kendall walked into the bathroom, already noticing that his son had emptied half the bubble bath into the tub already.
"It slipped daddy," the boy said before his father could get a word in.
"Sure it did, son. That and my sanity."
"What?"
"Nothing."
He laughed internally at Riley's confusion.
"Come on," he continued, "Let's get you squeaky clean."
The boy pouted as the water filled, wincing slightly at the cold. "Daaaad," he whined.
"Wait. You know that."
He slashed some water on the front of his father's clothes, and giggled.
Kendall was stunned temporarily; he had already changed for dinner… but rather than fly into another anxiety attack, he filled the soap dish to the brim and dunked it on his son's head.
"Payback," he gloated.
"Nuh uh," Riley persisted, shaking his head. By now Kendall's entire front was soaked.
They laughed and splashed, gathering soap suds in large mountains, and then watched Riley's toy boat crash through, eliciting shrill delight from the boy.
"Make a bigger one," he prodded.
"Sure," he said, then heard the doorbell ring.
"Oh Gods," Kendall whispered, standing suddenly, "Logan."
"Uncle Logan," Riley corrected.
"Yes, him. Riles… umm… mind drying up by yourself? I left your underwear on the bed. I'd be back in a jiffy, 'kay?"
"Ok… But help me get out?"
Kendall snapped out from the world inside his head. "Sorry son," he said, lifting him up and over.
…
"Logan, I'm glad you could make it," Kendall said, as he took in the sight of his visitor on the front step."
"I'm glad that I managed to make it. You wouldn't believe the traffic on the highway."
Kendall laughed lightly. "Come on in. Riley's in the bedroom. You mind if I leave you in just a bit to change him?"
"No problem, but hey, Kendall? You're soaked. Maybe you should change too."
"Good idea," he replied, feeling a heat rise to his cheeks. He turned away before he could sell anything away.
After all this time, ten years separating him then and his hormone-raged youth… enough time to find a girl and settle down, have her leave him for another, a child in her wake… enough time to realise what having a true friend meant, and question what was love…
Through everything, the marriage, the divorce… Riley… Logan was there. The ever-present guardian. In the early stages of Riley's formative years, he was always around, teaching the young boy, playing with him when Kendall had to leave for meetings ( he coached his own hockey team). Logan fulfilled the place that was missing in both their lives.
People would ask him if he thought life would have been easier if Riley wasn't around, to which he probably used very choice words to reply… and not the kind he would say in front of his son… Riley was the best thing that had ever happened to him. He kept him grounded, and for the most part, sane.
There was nothing better than coming home to a son ready to attack you with a ton of questions about your day.
Nothing more annoying, yet sweet, to be dying of sleep deprivation to have a blond furball of energy, jumping on him, just so he could hear a story.
Nothing more perfect than to see his quirky smile feigning innocence when he had done something wrong.
And then there was Logan.
…
After Kendall settled Logan in, not that it took very long. Kendall's home was, more or less, Logan's, after all.
The blond moved to return to the bedroom, when he suddenly heard a solid thud. At first, we thought it was Logan, but the sound had not originated from there. In fact, it came from down the hall, from Riley's room.
He raced in that direction, and stood paralyzed when he saw the limp figure of his son on the floor.
"RILEY!" he shouted, but no response. He felt someone's presence behind him, and sensed movement.
Logan passed him and went to kneel beside the boy. "He's fainted," he said in a heartbeat.
"No cheese," the blond replied, gradually regaining some of his motor skills.
"And he's hit his head," Logan continued as though he hadn't heard Kendall, "We need to get him to the hospital NOW."
"I'll get him; You start the car."
"Mine or yours?"
"Mine. I have gas."
No more questions were asked as Kendall pulled on his son's pants, and a clean Tee. Tears stung his eyes, as only one question raced through his mind:
What is wrong with my son?
…
GENERAL HOSPITAL
Riley was rushed to the emergency room, and hooked up immediately to the IV. He still hadn't regained consciousness.
Kendall and Logan sat tensely in the waiting room, minds miles apart.
"What d'you reckon is wrong with him?" Kendall asked.
"I can't say… Malnutrition is out, for sure… But, one question, has he been that small for a while?"
"He was always small. And he keeps missing lunch. There's nothing wrong with that. I did that all the time in high school."
"Yeah…" Logan replied, but the blond could tell his mind was elsewhere.
"What are you thinking?"
"It could be so many things…" Logan said slowly, weighing his words, "But best case scenario?"
"Yep?"
"He was sleepwalking."
"And worse?" Kendall asked, regretting his pessimism.
"Well…"
"Gentlemen, the doctor would see you now," a nurse with a clipboard came to inform them.
Kendall looked at Logan. "I need you now," the look seemed to translate.
…
"Your son is beautiful," the doctor said as all took their seats.
"I know. He gets it from his mother." Kendall felt Logan shift in his seat beside him.
"Will she be coming?"
"We're divorced… Doctor, what is wrong with my son?"
He bit his lower lip, before replying. "Mr. Knight, there is no easy way to say this… The boy is three after all…"
"He'll be four in two weeks. And I want the truth, THE WHOLE TRUTH…" the blond emphasized.
Logan gripped Kendall's hand from under the table. Calm down.
"Your son has neuroblastoma." A pause as the shocking realization struck Logan.
Kendall shot a look in his friend's direction. "What… in Heaven's name… is that?"
Logan took a deep breath, but it was the doctor that answered.
"Neuroblastoma is the most common extracranial solid cancer in childhood and the most common cancer in infancy, with an annual incidence of about six hundred and fifty cases per year in the U.S."
"Cancer?" Kendall repeated, as if it was the only word he heard.
"Yes…. Nearly half of neuroblastoma cases occur in children younger than two years. It is a neuroendocrine tumor, It most frequently originates in one of the adrenal glands, but can also develop in nerve tissues in the neck, chest, abdomen, or pelvis. Your son…" he said, "He's a bit serious."
"How serious are we talking?" Logan asked for him.
"He's at stage 4S…" the doctor said painfully. "The only bad thing about these cancers is that…"
"They are difficult to detect," Logan completed for him, "Unless you already know what you're looking for, or until it's too far gone."
"Too… far gone," Kendall's throat had constricted painfully.
"I'm sorry," the doctor said, "We're giving him two weeks at the most. The cancer's already in his blood."
"No… no no no no no," Kendall repeated, burying his face in his hands.
"Kendall, come on… let's go see him," Logan said, feigning positivity, though they both knew it was futile.
"I don't think I can," Kendall said, between the dry sobs that rocked his body, "My little boy… dying… and there's nothing we can do?"
He looked at the doctor hopefully… looking for anything. A ray of light in the darkness.
But the man only shook his head.
…
Kendall did go to see him after all, but the tubes connected to his son, the hospital smell of disinfectant was too much.
"Will he get up?" he asked Logan.
"Yes… but probably not yet… It is a strange sort of cancer that way. Comes about in pangs."
"Much like heartbreak."
A pause. "Yes, much like heartbreak." Logan agreed.
…
KNIGHT RESIDENCE
The blond sat at his desk late that night, a cup of coffee beside him. Logan had wanted to stay the night, but Kendall had kindly asked him for some time alone.
And Logan understood.
The house was empty, the walls no longer refracting the energy and zeal as earlier that day. He sighed, looking at the picture of Riley. And the memories of getting angry at his son resurfaced, forcing tears to his eyes.
Kendall grabbed a pen and paper, and ignoring the tears that fell, he began to hum, a song coming to life before him.
I remember your barefeet down the hallway
I remember your little laugh
Race cars on the kitchen floor
Plastic dinosaurs
I love you to the moon and back
I remember your blue eyes
Looking into mine
Like we had our own secret club
I remember you dancing before bedtime
Then jumping on me waking me up
I can still feel you hold my hand
Little man
And even in that moment I knew
You fought it hard like an army man
Remember I
Leaned in and whispered to you
Come on, baby, with me
We're going to fly away
From here
…
GENERAL HOSPITAL
"Daddy."
The little voice greeted him when he arrived the next day.
"And Uncle Logan…" A faint smile played on the boy's lips. He winced suddenly, but brushed off the feeling. "I knew you both would come. I told you," he told the nurse who stood supervising him.
"Is he okay?" Kendall asked.
Logan elbowed him gently. Not here, with Riley in the room.
"What's wrong with me daddy?" Riley asked. Too late.
"The doctors still have to talk to me and…"
"We'd let you know later," Logan finished for him.
"I can't come with you," the boy said ruefully, "My legs feel all pins-and-needle-ly… And actually, I just want to sleep."
"You're right," Kendall said, "You should get some sleep."
The boy nodded and shifted in the bed.
"Dad?" he said, in a small voice.
"Yes Rile."
"Why are the walls grey?"
Kendall felt like crying and laughing at the same time. Grey brought back memories of Riley's childhood. When the house was painted grey, and the boy helped paint. A major mess in the long run, but memories for a lifetime.
"You like them?"
"No. It make me miss home."
"You'd come home soon enough," he consoled, "Just hold on for a while longer."
"Yes, daddy."
…
Somehow Kendall found himself lured to the hospital.
Even after visiting hours, he stood in the parking lot, waiting for the wing to fall into darkness, Logan at his side through it all.
In the day, though, he saw no excuse why he couldn't enter the ward, and the nurses were very sympathetic. A single father with a dying son.
How could they say no?
Kendall sat in silence as he watched his son sleep, his skin getting paler by the day.
"It's in his blood," the doctor repeated when he had asked, "And there's less oxygen circulating. He's sure to get anaemia."
Kendall could only watch as the doctor strode away to check on his other patients.
When Riley was awake, he levelled questions at his father. Some, general, like how was his day.
To which he replied, It's normal. Nothing's changed. Jett, his second-in-command, had given him time-off, in reality, and Kendall hadn't seen his team ever since Riley got sick.
But his son wasn't to know that. Just as he wasn't to know what was wrong with him.
But as the days stretched into weeks, Riley became antsy.
"When can I leave?" he asked one day.
"When the doctors say you can…"
And on another, "Dad, you had asthma, right? What did you do when you couldn't breathe?"
To which Kendall promptly called the nurse, who verified his worry.
The cancer was spreading to his major organs.
And probably the most painful, when he asked, "Dad, tell me about mum."
He sat and stared at his son, who snapped him out of his reverie. "Dad…?" he called.
"Why do you ask?"
"I've dreamt about her. And she was saying that she could make the pain go away… forever."
His father blanched.
"Your mother…" he cleared his throat, just as the door opened and Logan entered.
"Mind if I have a seat?" he asked Riley.
"Sure uncle," the boy replied, as Logan rested down on the bed.
"What are we talking about?" Logan asked, something dancing in his chocolate eyes.
Kendall swallowed. "About Jo."
That was all, but the temperature of the room seemed to drop a couple degrees.
Kendall looked away briefly before continuing. "Your mother… had your eyes. The way of mesmerizing someone when she talked to them. She made me laugh; and sometimes she made me cry."
"Did you love her?" Riley pressed.
"Once… but now I love you most of all," he smiled, tickling Riley's toes.
Giggling, Riley continued with his questions, "What about uncle Logan? Do you love him?"
"I've loved him, perhaps, the longest of all," Kendall replied, and probably it would have been a normal thing to say had he not reddened like a sun-ripe tomato.
…
It went on like that for the days that passed, and before long, the week of Riley's birthday was upon them. Co-incidentally, also the week when his lease on life was to be terminated.
"Thought of anything you would like to give him?" Logan asked him.
"I don't know," Kendall replied, staring into the distance from his porch, "I think what I really want to give him is the truth."
"Huh," Logan said, and sunk into a silence that was unbecoming of him.
"And you? Uncle Logan…"
Logan chuckled. "Always loved the sound of that. Who would've thought…? But I want him to be happy, even if it is for a little while… Whatever we have to do."
Kendall loved the sound of that, but it posed another question.
"Like what?"
"We gotta ask him."
…
On Riley's birthday, the entire ward was in an uproar. People in wheelchairs, whom the boy had befriended, parked in the corner; The nurses in as jovial a mood as they could manage; Medicines had been temporarily forgotten, and rather, cake lay on the side table, with a '4' candle prominent atop.
"Happy Birthday" was sung, and Logan had gotten what he wanted; Riley was happy.
When the celebrations were over, Kendall and Logan stayed with Riley a bit longer, before they had to say their good-byes for the night.
"Daddy, Uncle… This was a lot of fun. Thank you."
"We're glad you had fun. Even if this is in the hospital."
A pause, then, "Dad, am I really dying?"
Kendall could her the mental rubber tyres screeching in his head. "Why…?"
"I heard the doctors … Is it true?"
"Riley…"
"I want to know."
"I shouldn't… I can't…"
"Dad, please."
"Yes," Logan said in a small voice, "You are."
The silence seemed to last a lifetime and more. Until finally, Riley spoke.
"I knew from before, Daddy… When you came, I knew. When they gave me the poison medicine… I could tell. I watch t.v. you know."
He said it so surely, that television educated the world, that Kendall couldn't help but laugh. In a situation like that, laughing and crying were his only two viable options. And laughing seemed better somehow.
"Please don't cry. Grandma said it doesn't hurt… Course I don't believe her, because everything hurts now… But all I have to do is fall asleep, she says."
"Grandma spoke to you?" Kendall asked.
"Yep, she came and stood right where you're sitting."
Kendall put on a brave face. His mother and Jo's mother were not around to have ever met their grandson. Riley had been hallucinating.
"But I was thinking," the boy continued.
"About?" Logan asked.
"What happens to dad when I go away like mum?"
"You're not going anywhere," Kendall emphasized.
"But dad… I am." He pointed to the heart monitor. "The number was bigger than that when I first came in."
Kendall rubbed his eyes.
"Why don't you and Uncle Logan get married?" Riley asked suddenly.
"We're too old for that," Kendall replied quickly, "And it's not allowed."
"Why?"
"Just because. Like how you're not allowed to eat cookies before bedtime."
"Oh. But sometimes I sneak one under my pillow. It makes me happy and I get sweet dreams. I think, Daddy, uncle Logan is like your cookie."
Kendall looked over at Logan who had said nothing in the past minutes.
"He keeps you happy… Like I do. And daddy, you know you need it."
Wise words coming from a now-turned four year old.
"I love you son."
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"I love you too. I'll miss you, you know that?"
"Yes, I know."
…
When Logan an Kendall left the hospital that, it came as no surprise when they called and translated the bad news.
Riley was gone.
Forever.
…
At the funeral, Kendall decided to make a special toast to the life of his son.
The song he had written, had been completed, and while it felt like he was singing part of his journal, nothing would have felt more right than to remember his Riley in that way.
The priest's words felt distant; Impersonal.
No one knows what to say about a 4-year old who died.
I remember the drive home
When the blind hope
Turned to crying and screaming why
Flowers pile up in the worst way
No one knows what to say
About a beautiful boy who died
And it's about to be Halloween
You could be anything
You wanted if you were still here I remember the last day
When I kissed your face
And I whispered in your ear
Come on baby with me
We're gonna fly away from here
Out of this curtained room
And this hospital grey will just disappear
Come on baby with me
We're gonna fly away from here
You were my best four years
What if I'm standing in your closet
Trying to talk to you?
And what if I kept your hand-me-downs
You won't grow into?
And what if I really thought some miracle
Would see us through?
And what if the miracle was even getting
One moment with you?
Come on baby with me
We're gonna fly away from here
Come on baby with me
We're gonna fly away from here
You were my best four years
…
When the service was over, Kendall found Logan.
"How are you?" he asked.
"That's a stupid question. Might I ask how you are?"
"No comment. It hits in pangs, remember?"
"Have you thought about what he said?" Logan said after a while.
"That you're a cookie? Actually, yes."
"It doesn't change anything, does it?" Logan asked.
"No, it doesn't change anything. Unless you want me to love you more."
They hugged each other, crying mixed with laughing. Riley would be happy now, he knew. No more pain, no more injections…
And as much as Kendall would miss him, Riley helped him do something he probably would never have had the courage to do on his own.