Evil's Definition

There's no more. Too little for Too much.

"What?!" Alvin couldn't believe his ears. "Are you serious?!"

Dave nodded his head sadly. "Alvin, you know that I wouldn't want to lie to you. But right now, I want to. We've gone broke over this. The bills keep piling up and any more payments we make is going to put us out of our house completely. Not to mention the mortgage is due-"

"There's that word again!" Alvin mumbled in annoyance from where he stood on the table. "What's it mean?!"

Dave ran a hand through his hair, wondering how to dumb down the definition for his son simple enough for him to understand. "I borrowed a lot of money from the bank, and they'll own our house until I pay them back."

"The same money for her treatment? What kind of messed up world is this! If someone is in danger, they should get help! If someone is hungry, they should get food! If someone is sick, they should get medicine!"

Dave wanted to tell him that things didn't quite go like that in the world; in fact, far from it. He could tell that he was getting extremely involved because it was Brittany who was fighting for breath in the hospital room next to them, and Alvin being who he was, couldn't keep his voice down. Not for his sake, Brittany's sake, or anyone's peace sake for that matter. The nurses that passed shot them glares, eye-signals to keep their voice's down (particularly Alvin's,) but Alvin didn't care.

"She's sick, Dave! Pulnary…pulnary fibs or something…"

"Pulmonary fibrosis…" Dave corrected gently.

"Whatever!" Alvin retorted. "It's stopping her from breathing, and you're going to tell me that the only thing stopping her from getting the help that she needs is a few pills?! She's not even as big as an adult-"

"And yet she still managed to contract an illness that only tends to crop up in middle-aged people," Dave corrected in a small tone.

Alvin sighed sadly. "Well, that's your money. What about my money? What about the money that you said you set aside for us from our first Christmas together, before Ian showed up with his plastic junk? Can't it help?" Alvin sounded desperate; he was really counting on that silver lining, hoping against hope that the gift that he had thought was 'lame' would actually turn out to be a lifesaver.

But seeing Dave's face, he could already read the answer in the man's expression. Without saying anything more, Alvin turned away, not wanting his father to see his eyes leak tears. He leaped away from the table and used his weight to fall onto the lever handle of the door to open it, before letting himself fall to the floor. As soon as he did, he used every ounce of strength in his body to push the massive door shut before making his way to the bed by the window.

Hospitals. They smelt…funny. Being that close to the ground, he got it worse. But it didn't even serve as a distraction as he got to Brittany's bed and climbed up by a corner of it. He had to tread carefully once he reached the top; stepping over a tube or two, ducking others. Finally, he made it to Brittany's side and to his mild surprise, he found her asleep. She found it hard to sleep when the disease and scarring of her lungs robbed her of breath, worse than any case of asthma or tuberculosis.

He couldn't even tell when last he heard her sing. In fact…it was during the last time that he realized that something was wrong…when she failed to keep a note before running out of air.

"Brittany?"

She didn't wake. If she was actually awake, she didn't show.

He realized his mistake in calling her name. Let her…let her get the rest she needed. To be honest, sleep was all she had left as an escape from the pain and lack of air she had to deal with constantly. "Aw…geez. I don't know what to say," the chipmunk muttered. He thought of their past two years of being in each other's companionship; though riddled with rivalry, he had come to realize that there was something more. From his perspective, of course. He had no idea how Brittany Miller truly felt about him. Not even one.

He lied on his side next to her, merely listening to her sounds of pained living. He wished that there was something he could do. Something else, that is. But no matter how much he would've liked to skirt the issue, the sounds…the god-awful beeps of the life support, the strained breathing, the aching wheezing-

"Alvin?" A voice softly called his name, wrenching him from his brief insanity. Realizing that it was Brittany, he inched closer to her so that she wouldn't have to expend more energy into talking that which was necessary-…this was a rare time.

"Yeah, Brit? What is it? Do you need something? Water? Food? Pillows?" He asked eagerly, anxious to please. Anything to make her more comfortable, he would-

"Just let it be, Alvin." She spoke languidly but was by no means relaxed. "I know what you're thinking. I…had a nightmare…just now. Who knows what those people do…I've even heard of demonic rituals-"

"They're just stories, Brittany!" He exclaimed worriedly. "If their money buys the medication you need, I don't care if I have to sell my soul! I just want you better!"

"If there's a heaven or a hell, you know that there's only one way you'll go."

"And before that time comes, I want every second we have on earth together." His lower lip quivered slightly. "It…hurts me too, Brittany, to see you hurting."

"I thought you'd celebrate, if nothing else," she tried to joke, but it was in poor taste. "But what I'm going through…I'm gonna beat it."

"No…You're not. The doctors said that it's incurable. Some of them are chewing out Dave for letting you suffer like this. Talking about 'putting you to sleep using injections' and all that bullsh-"

As he droned on and on about this, Brittany pondered her lapse into this illness and thought, somehow, about how it brought her and Alvin closer together. She could tell that Alvin must've chewed out the doctors on the spot, given his current antics.

She nerved herself. Then relaxed.

She sought for strength, strength that lied dormant inside her, using it to reach her closest arm to Alvin even closer to grasp his hand, straining for breath the whole time. "Alvin…I…love…you. But if you...do this…" Her eyes steeled in seriousness. "I'll…never…forgive…you…"

Alvin blinked, trying to wrap his mind around her confession. Soon, he smiled, but it looked…grim. "I love you too." He eased his hand out of her slack grip. "But I'll live with that…and you're going to have to live with that too. I don't care if you spend the rest of your life hating me…you're going to live your full life, and that's all that matters to me." Speaking this…lie, cut him deeply. He finally found out that she loved him, and all he had wanted was hers in return. Damn this illness! Damn it to hell!

Would he re-make his acquaintance with the illness there? He didn't care. He was going to rub shoulders with Adolf Hitler and Judas Iscariot and all those other 'evil' people, maybe with Satan too. But Brittany was going to live. That was good enough for him. Enough for the rest of his cursed life. "They told me that they have the best doctors, money for medicine. You'll be healthy for the rest of your life."

"And you'll be in hell after yours is done." She shot back as her heart threatened to fail, tears starting to shed from her dulling blue eyes. He was rejecting her, she believed. She was trying to believe that all he wanted was for her to be all right, but she almost didn't want to believe it…it was hardly reason enough to hate him. She loved him, and he told her that he loved her too. Shouldn't things be different now? Well, they were, and things would never be the same.

"I don't think I care anymore. They can't be all bad…they even sent me a red cap in the mail yesterday, with my 'A' on it already. Starting tomorrow, they'll get better doctors to look after you properly, and somewhere you can actually live after this is over, without worrying about the bank owning our house. But me? I'll be in the Illuminati."

Well, yeah. I mean, I guess you could tell where the fic was going. This very tiny, tiny fic. Tiny by my standards, anyway. But 'Ill' meant two things. The sickness, and the Illuminati.

It's real, you know. The Eye of Providence is just the tip of the iceberg. But I was thinking…how many public and social figures wanted to join the Illuminati? Maybe it was desperation? All I've got to work with are Internet rumors and all that junk. But every one of us have an inkling as who these people are, and who's a part of their 'organization', although we try to ignore it…

Oh well.

This fic was meant to let everyone know that I'm back from involuntary hiatus. If you see this, it means that you'll soon be seeing updates to other stories. Still in turns, though. That doesn't change, although it beats waiting for an update that doesn't come. Thanks for fixing the computer, Prophet! Bro-fist!

Valete omnes,

MRAY 4TW.