"Ahh!" Fez exclaimed in anguish, throwing his arms up in the air in anger. "I am stuck again!"
A stupidly grinning Kelso nodded in excitement, looking over at his clearly upset friend. Moving his own blue Candy Land piece, he stuck his tongue out at Fez in a childish manner. "Haha, I'm safe!" the quite obviously brain dead Kelso burst, pumping a fist into the air.
"Oh shut up, you son of a bitch," Fez shot back in a grumpy voice, folding his arms over his chest angrily. "This stupid game hates me. I always land there. Plus, Eric started hiding his money in the Chutes and Ladders box, so there is no point in playing this game."
Eric's head shot up as the mention of his secret stash came up, and I grinned. "Hey! How the hell did you know about that?" Eric demanded, staring at Fez in astonishment. Poor, scrawny little thing thinks he actually managed to keep his secret stash hidden. Ha.
"Foreman, we all know about your obsession with hiding your pathetic excuse for cash in elementary school board game boxes," I said with a shrug, looking at him in amusement before turning my gaze back to the T.V. screen—The Price is Right.
"Jackie! Oh my, it's my sexy love machine!" Fez said excitedly as the brown-haired beauty opened the door, beaming—though I could tell by her slightly wide eyes that something was up. Looking at Fez with narrowed eyes, I swung my leg out and knocked him in the shin, listening to him release a gasp of irritation.
"You son of a bitch."
Shrugging, I wrapped my arms around Jackie's waist as she slowly came over and deposited herself on my lap. Arching an eyebrow as she moved her head close to my ear, I frowned as I heard a "Can I talk to you? Upstairs?" breathed into my air. Jackie stood expectantly as she made her way towards the bottom of the stairs, and I soon followed, Fez and Kelso's eyes burning into the back of my head.
"Okay Jacks, what's this all about?"
The last time she'd wanted to talk to me alone we'd ended up in a fight on whether or not I loved her, which ended up in increasing embarrassment on my part and tears on her part. I sat down at the kitchen table, watching her intently as she sat down across from me.
Brushing a perfectly curled lock from her green-gray eyes, she looked down at the table nervously before fixing her quiet eyes on me.
"Steven… I have cancer. Breast cancer."
She'd caught me off guard, and my head shot up sharply. She wasn't serious… was she? Peering at her curiously from behind my sunglasses, I fought down the urge to jump up and grab a beer from the fridge—an action that seemed to be my answer to everything. "What?"
"I have cancer," Jackie told me quietly, her eyes downcast and devoid of all her previous energy and spark. She sounded so… serious. That wasn't like her. She was usually the female version of Kelso—well, a little smarter, I suppose.
"Oh," was all I managed to say. She had seemed less energetic—less feisty and stubborn. I knew something was wrong when she turned a trip to the mall repeatedly over the past few days, but this? "Are you going to be okay?"
"I… don't know."
The dejected tone in her voice scared the hell out of me, and I silently thanked god that I'd picked up the habit of wearing these stupid sunglasses—it hid any emotion my eyes held. I avoided her gaze, her weary and unusually helpless gaze, and instead stared steadily at the ground. I didn't want to display any weakness in front in front Jackie—I was Steven Hyde, the incredibly scruffy orphan boy. But as I felt her small and smooth hand reach over the table to entwine itself with my own callused one, I raised my eyes. As I took in the faintly concealed fear in her eyes and the down-turned corners pretty little lips, I realized just how much she must hurting. She took pain well.
"Oh," I said again, quieter this time. My small Zen cheerleader had cancer. Dammit. No wonder she'd suddenly quit her precious cheerleading squad. "Do you want to go back down?" I asked slowly, glancing around the Foreman kitchen, wary of intruding bodies.
"Sure," she replied, more perky and bright—more like the Jackie I knew. She stood, tossing a black curl over her shoulder with a large smile, starting towards the door. "You coming?" Turning to face me with one hand on the door, she slipped through at my slow nod.
I stood there, in the middle of the kitchen, at a loss for words; numb.
Mrs. Foreman couldn't have better timing.
"Mrs. Foreman—can I talk to you?" I asked quickly, with no emotion. I'd always hated asking for help—me and my damn pride… but I needed to talk to someone. Even I couldn't take a blow that hard without getting the anger out in the open.
Mrs. Foreman gazed at me with a raised eyebrow for a few moments of silence, before a small smile creased her face. Wiping her hands on the apron that hung from around her plump waist, she sat down at the small table, motioning the chair across from her. Folding her hands placidly on the table, she looked at me with an expectant smile. "Sure Steven. What is it?"
"Say you knew someone who was… very close to you… and she was sick. Really sick. And you wanted to help her, but you didn't know how?"
Mrs. Foreman released a soft sigh, her eyes lighting up in immediate understanding, her smile gentle. "This is about Jackie, isn't it Steven?"
Nodding slowly, I quirked a questioning eyebrow, as if asking her if I was really that easy to read—I'd always liked to believe I was intensely complicated and extremely hard to crack.
"Steven, honey, I'm a nurse. She was at the doctor's a few weeks ago." Smiling still, she folded her hands in her lap now, slowly continuing. "I'd just treat her normally, honey. No extra special treatment, no extremely gentle voice. People like Jackie, despite their sickness, won't appreciate you being quiet and different around them. They're pride-ridden. She won't want things to change Steven. So don't change them, okay?"
I stared blankly at the woman in front of me for a few silent moments before I nodded slowly in slight understanding. Not that I would've treated Jackie any different to begin with, but it was good to hear some sort of direction from the woman I considered the closest thing I ever had to a mother. She watched me with a twisted mouth somewhere between a frown and a smile before she stood slowly.
"Was that all you needed, Steven?" Mrs. Foreman asked as she made her way towards the wooden cabinets, her eyes lingering on me before she examined the cans in the cabinet on the far left with a scrutinizing gaze.
Nodding, I pushed my chair back from the table and stood, frowning as I walked towards the door towards that would lead towards the basement. "Thanks," I muttered gruffly, looking back at Mrs. Foreman before pushing the door open and allowing myself to step onto the wooden stairs.
Author's Note: I know this chapter seems incredibly out of character for Hyde, and I'm sorry, but he's just sort of shocked. He's not like himself. It'll get better, I promise.
