"This is my family. It's little and broken but good. Yeah...still good."

-Stitch, (Lilo and Stitch)

Phoebe Jessica Palmer curled up into a ball and buried her face in the starchy hospital pillows that usually lay behind her head. The ten year old whimpered slightly as she stared out the window and at the prone body of her twenty two year old brother who was half-slumped across the right side of it. She almost smiled when she saw the drool sliding down the side of his face, Percy never did want to leave her side. And now that she was in the hospital full time, he almost never left. Unless he had to go to work at NCIS. But while he was here, he only left her room when she bugged him to go downstairs and take a makeshift shower with a couple of baby wipes.

His full name was Percival James Palmer, most people called him 'Jimmy' for his middle name, but she always called him 'Percy'. Well, she and Kyle. Kyle Clark Davis was their older half-brother on their mother's side, but to Phoebe he was as much of her older brother as Percy was. Kyle was the oldest at twenty six, so he always had to work late at his pet shop, like now, to pay for her treatments and all that. Suddenly she felt a wet sensation spread from her left side of the bed and she sighed. She'd been in renal or kidney failure for nine months now. The ten year old reached out a small hand and placed it on Percy's knee, shaking it as lightly as he dared.

"Percy?...Percy?"

She whispered, shaking his knee a little harder when he didn't respond. The twenty two year old's brown eyes flicked open and he blinked groggily at her for a few moments before practically leaping to his feet. The young man pushed his thin wire-rimmed glasses up his nose, before walking over to the left side of her bed and as discretely as he could, lifting up the sheet and changing the wet pad under it.

"Sorry, Percy."

She whispered, a few stray tears slipping down her cheeks as she did so. Percy never complained about everything he had to do, not once and she hated it. Why couldn't he complain once in a while? Just to show her that he was still human, not just some mindless machine. The twenty two year old paused in his ministrations, then started up the same as before.

"It's fine, Phoebe. It's not your fault."

"It's my cancer, isn't it?"

She snapped, bristling at his patronizing tone. She hated his pity, he always got like this when he thought about the cancer. She was diagnosed with Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia when she was only three years old, she'd been in remission three times and each time it had returned even more aggressive than before. They both knew that they were nearing the end of Phoebe's battle. They hoped that Kyle knew as much, but he was always so giddy and happy that they didn't want to dampen his spirits if he didn't. Her cancer was rare, aggressive, had relapsed three times, and she was in renal failure. They were already on borrowed time at best.

Percy didn't answer her, what could he say? They both knew that it was true, that she wasn't her cancer but, in a way she was, it was in her body after all. So instead of answering directly, he changed the subject matter. Only for Kyle to burst into the room, a wide and bright grin on his face as usual and he practically skipped over to Phoebe and wrapped her in a tight yet gentle hug.

"Kyle!"

Phoebe squealed, burying her face in his stomach. Kyle grinned and gently ran his hands over the patches of downy blond fuzz that covered her bald head. The young girl sighed, contently as she leaned against her oldest brother. Percy pushed himself off his chair and walked over to join his siblings, running his hand soothingly down Phoebe's spine. Soon enough, the little girl was asleep, leaning against both of them.

"Goodnight, Phoebe."

Kyle crooned softly, laying her limp body down gently in her bed. He covered her up with the white, starchy hospital sheets and both young men went to sleep on the hard and uncomfortable hospital chairs near her bed. Percy leaned backwards and rested his head against Kyle's chest, the older brother instinctively wrapping his arms around the younger.

"Goodnight, Kyle."

"Night, Jimmy."

-Flashback-

"Phoebe has what?!"

"Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia, Mr. Palmer."

The pediatric oncologist explained once again, his usually gruff and monotone voice was soft and gentle as he looked at the distressed father, and the two young boys who sat beside him, three year old Phoebe sitting on the older boy's lap. The sixteen year old looked about to cry, but his twelve year old just gaped at the doctor, his thin wire-framed glasses slipping down his nose.

"L-Leukemia? B-But that's c-cancer."

The twelve year old stuttered, pulling his glasses off to clean them. The doctor nodded grimly and the glasses slipped from the preteen's hands, clinking against the tiled floor of the office as they hit. The sixteen year old boy made a choking noise, hand flying up to cover his mouth in his shock, he wrapped a protective arm around his baby sister who was cuddled in his lap.

"But it was just a bruise! A stupid bruise she probably got at pre-school! She's clumsy! That doesn't mean that she's sick!"

The sixteen year old practically wailed, but the doctor just looked at him with solemn eyes. Eyes that held nothing but pity, sympathy and the cold, hard truth. That's how he knew it to be true, that his little sister was sick and horribly so. Kyle unconsciously wrapped his arms even tighter around Phoebe as she fiddled with a toy in her tiny perfect hands. Hands that would soon be riddled with needles and the like, Kyle winced at the thought.

No...they had just lost their mom to breast cancer two years back. They couldn't lose Phoebe to cancer too. She had so much to do, so much to see, would she get married? Would she graduate high school? Would she go to her first prom? Would she go to first grade? She had to survive this, they would make her survive this.

All three tried their hardest to keep Phoebe going in the next coming years, when her cancer went into remission when she was five, but came back when she was six, it went into remission again when she was eight, but came back only three weeks later. That was also the year that Jeremy Daniel Palmer died in a car accident, their father was dead and they were on their own. Then her last and final remission was when she was nine, but it came back eight months ago.

-End Flashback-

Percival 'Jimmy' Palmer never let his family life effect his work, even when he had to skip his father's funeral because he had work that day. Some days, he came to work smelling like Phoebe's vomit or when he hadn't had time to put on deodorant and make himself presentable, he always gave excuses. Excuses that were no where near the truth. He knew that they would try to understand, but then there would be pity and sympathy. Most people would appreciate the concern and effort but after seven years of being a cancer family, you begin to hate those things. They didn't need pity or sympathy.

Jimmy tried to keep up that mentality, even when he woke up to Kyle shaking his shoulder frantically and caught a full view of Phoebe vomiting up blood as it gushed from her nose. He was instantly horrified, her eyes were wide, red and bloodshot as blood dripped down from the corners of her mouth and flooded through the hands covering her nose.

"Shit!"

Jimmy cursed, leaping up from his chair to launch himself at the bed. He instantly folded himself to her side, resting her body against him as she vomited nosily into the bedpan that Kyle held under her chin. A pair of squeezed tears slid down her cheeks and Jimmy began to make small crooning noises.

"Hush baby...you're okay...Phoebe look at me...you are fine..."

Jimmy assured her and made sure to rub her back comfortingly as she puked, she looked at him with the most immensely pitiful eyes that he couldn't bare to look at her. This was his Phoebe, the little girl who could light up a room with the littlest and simplest of smiles. This mess of sickness, vomit and blood was not his little Phoebe.

Kyle was biting his bottom lip harshly as he manned the puke-pan, trying to angle it so all the vomited blood managed to hit correctly, sparing the bed. But then his wristwatch began to chime and he looked at Jimmy with wide eyes, wide doe eyes just like Phoebe's.

"Go."

Jimmy sighed, and Kyle gave him a half smile as he leaned over and pressed a kiss to Phoebe's sweaty forehead. Before hurrying over to the corner of the room to change his shirt. Jimmy sighed, he wasn't going to make it to NCIS today, he couldn't leave Phoebe alone, not when she was like this and Kyle had to go to the pet store for his shift. He would have to call in sick to Ducky.

"Phoebe, I have to go outside and call my friend Ducky really quick. I'll be back soon, I promise."

Jimmy assured her, gently and the little girl nodded. She slumped backwards, exhausted and when Jimmy was sure she was alright, he whipped out his phone and hurried into the hall. The young M.E assistant opened his speed dial and pressed the first contact, holding the device to his ear.

"Dr. Donald Mallard."

Jimmy smiled at Ducky's voice and was quick to answer and tell his boss who exactly he was.

"Dr. Mallard? It's Jimmy, I won't be able to come into work today."

The young M.E sighed and he could almost hear the confusion in Ducky's voice when he spoke next. The older man didn't understand why Jimmy would call in sick...Jimmy NEVER called in sick, unless the need was dire.

"Mr. Palmer? What's the matter? Is everything alright? Are you well?"

Ducky asked hurried, his concern for his young protege was shooing through. It was obvious to everyone else how Ducky and Jimmy's relationship was that of a father and son. Both deeply cared for one another, Ducky was just like the father that Jimmy had lost when he was almost twenty years old.

"Yes Dr. Mallard, I'm fine. I just have to call in sick due to family issues."

Jimmy sighed and he knew Ducky was surprised, The young M.E assistant never spoke about his family or a anything relevant to his home life. They had just assumed that Jimmy lived alone or that his family was just dead.

"Oh, alright then. But Mr. Palmer, are you sure that you're alright?"

Ducky pressed and Jimmy ran a shaking hand through his dark curly locks. He sighed softly and pushed his glasses up his nose.

"I'm fine, Dr."

Then he hung up with a short goodbye, and headed back into Phoebe's room.