Dedication: Lori and Paisley. Thanks for being such amazing viewers, and the next part will follow, hopefully before Christmas!

Warning: Cancer, angst, and epic, epic fluff.

CC Chalk hunched in her usual place in her adopted grandmother's classroom, directing a glare towards her as Mrs Mulgrew circulated, leaning over now and then to comment on someone's work.

Her neighbour nudged her and pointed to their shared copy of Of Mice and Men.

'C'mon, you gotta give me somethin' here,' he hissed. 'I've spent enough time in the cooler this week, if I get sent again Maggie says I can't have me party.'

'Yeah, right,' CC scoffed. 'D'you really think she meant it? Bet she was just trying to scare you.'

'I don't care, I'm not riskin' it.' Her friend opened the book. 'What's got your goat, I thought you was dead excited about havin' your gran back.'

CC refused to dignify that with an answer, flipping the mass of golden curls she'd inherited from her mother over one shoulder and bending over the chapter they were supposed to be reading. She'd only read a few lines when Christine's voice behind her made her tense.

'Well done. Nice to see you haven't forgotten everything while I was away!' Then she was beside CC. 'Right. So, let's have a look, shall we?'

'We've not started yet,' CC's neighbour said anxiously. 'We're still readin'.'

CC saw her grandmother's eyebrows lift. 'Really. Well, I'll give you another five minutes, OK?'

'Give us as long as you like, I'm not readin' it,' CC muttered under her breath.

Mrs Mulgrew paused. 'I beg your pardon?'

'She's just a bit slow,' she heard Jonny say. 'We'll catch up miss, honest.'

'Slow, h'mmm?'

Mrs Mulgrew's gaze was piercing and CC's cheeks went hot as she aimed a vicious kick at Jonny's ankles. What a numpty, of all the idiot things to say. As if Nan'd believe that when she knew better than anyone what a fast reader CC was!

She lifted her chin. She wasn't going to pretend and sneak around. There'd been far too much of that lately.

'I'm not readin' this, it's crap. I don't care if you do throw us in the cooler, it'd be better than this!'

The Head's lips thinned. 'I see. Well, I'm sorry I can't oblige on this occasion, Miss Chalk. Wait for me outside, please.'

CC was about to argue—until she caught her grandmother's eye and thought the better of it. Besides, she didn't really want to have this row in front of everyone and the nosy cows had their eyes half hanging out as it was. She pushed back from her desk, deliberately dragging her chair along the floor because she knew how much it annoyed Christine. Then she swung her bag to her shoulder and stalked out, for once failing to show the door's creaking hinges the respect they deserved. As a result, it closed with a deeply satisfying bang.

Almost at once, her resentment died as the suspicion she'd nursed for weeks flowered into near-certainty. There was something wrong with Nan, she'd known it since the day after Grandpa's birthday when she'd caught Mum crying. Her mother had given some stupid excuse, but CC wasn't convinced. Her mum was one of the strongest people she knew, she was more likely to blow her top than she was to weep.

After that she'd kept ears and eyes open and was rewarded a fortnight later when Mum and Dad explained that Grandpa and Nan were going away for a while. CC's protests that Nan never went away during term-time had gone unheeded, but a couple of days later she'd overheard Dad trying to persuade Mum to tell her the truth.

'She's not stupid, Dyn, she's already picked up something's going on. You know how close she is to Christine—'

'And I've told you I don't want her knowing!' Dynasty had hissed. 'She's too young, I won't have her worryin' about it!'

Her dad had closed their bedroom door at that point and CC had heard no more, but it was enough—and when even her little sister noticed the tension in the air CC realised that whatever it was, it was dead serious.

She gulped and turned towards the window, fretfully pulling at a curl. Worry settled deep in her gut and the weight of it was familiar; she'd felt like this nearly four years ago when Imogen came early and their mother nearly died. CC would never forget that time—or the unstinting, unflinching comfort and support she'd received from her adopted grandparents. Her real gran hadn't been able to come until the crisis was over; as usual, Aunt Kace's boxing career had got in the way.

'Going to tell me what that was about?'

She whirled to face Christine. The older woman was standing very tall and straight, her arms folded, and wearing what Imogen called her 'heady face'.

CC took refuge in a teenage strop.

'You weren't at my birthday.'

'And that's a reason to abuse Steinbeck, is it?'

The girl scowled.

'It was my first proper important birthday! You should've been there!'

Christine's expression softened. 'Sweetheart—'

'Don't,' CC choked, turning back to the window. 'Don't you start lyin' to me.'

Her grandmother put a hand on her back. 'Come on, I've never lied to you, you know that.'

She began to rub, a gentle warming motion that CC had known and loved since babyhood. Her breath caught and she twisted to fling herself on Christine, burying her face in the older woman's silky blouse. It was something she'd done a thousand times and Christine's arms wrapped around her as they always did—but not before CC heard a muffled 'ouf' and felt a betraying stiffening.

She backed away, her mouth turning dry. 'What's wrong?'

Her grandmother sighed. 'CC—'

'You just said it, you've never lied to me.' She hated how her voice turned squeaky when she was trying not to cry. 'I hurt you then, didn't I? That's what Mum sounded like the first time I hugged her after Immy was born—'

'Hey! Hey, calm down, love,' Christine soothed, grabbing the girl's shoulders before she took flight. 'Now you listen to me. I don't want to lie to you but I can't tell you anything until I've spoken to your mum, OK?'

'She won't let you! She thinks I'm too much of a kid!'

Christine brushed a stray lock away from CC's face. 'Don't worry, I can handle Dynasty. I wouldn't be much of a boss otherwise, h'mm?'

CC sniffled and nodded, an unwilling smile starting to quirk. 'Promise?'

'I promise,' Christine affirmed. 'One way or another, I will get your mum's permission and I will talk to you—today. Deal?'

CC nodded solemnly and her grandmother put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a half-hug. 'So. Ready to go back to class?'

CC glanced up through her lashes. 'Do I have to?'

Christine laughed, the sound warming the cold fearful places in her granddaughter's heart. 'Yes, young lady, you do have to. Now march!'

And CC obeyed, feeling happier than she had in weeks.

Tom peeked around Sonya's office door, a grin spreading across his face. 'Room for a little one?'

'Or a big one in your case,' the secretary joked, coming to give him a hug and a smacker on the cheek. 'What're you doin' here, bored of retirement?'

'Bored? Bored? Son, have you met my family?'

'Which one?' she quipped as she turned back to her desk. 'Yours, Christine's, or the ones yous've adopted between you?'

'You make us sound like some kinda sprawling mafia.' He dropped into one of the seats that circled a small coffee table. 'Nah, retirement's where it's at. No paperwork, no council, no boss breathing down me neck—'

'No boss, eh?' Sonya repeated with a wink. 'I'll not tell 'er you said that.'

Tom's grin faded. 'How's she doing?'

'She's keepin' it together, you know Christine. Me an' Dyn tried talkin' her into reducing her teaching timetable, but—' She shrugged and Tom sighed.

'Typical Chris. She's been champing at the bit to get back. I just don't want her overdoing when she's still recoverin' from that op.'

Sonya leaned forward. 'Did they get it all? When they—?'

He rubbed his face. 'We hope. It all depends how badly her liver was damaged when—' His voice broke and he had to clear his throat before continuing. 'They'll do more scans in a couple of months and she might need a round of cancer-blasting drugs.'

'Oh, god. That's chemo, innit?' Sonya's face fell into glum lines. 'Oh, I 'ope it don't come to that. Losin' your 'air an all? Gives me the heebie jeebies, that does.'

'I'd rather have her alive!' Tom snapped. Sonya looked as if he'd slapped her and he blew out a breath. 'Sorry. Been a tough couple of months, didn't mean to take it out on you.'

'Take what out on who?' Christine herself asked, leaning against the door as it closed behind her.

Sonya gave a wide smile that showed all her teeth. 'It were nothing, boss. Just me bein' stupid.'

'H'mm.' The Head's gaze travelled to Tom. 'And what are you doing here, Mr Clarkson?'

He rose. 'Got used to havin' you around all the time. House is too quiet.'

'And there was I thinking you'd be catching up on all that sleep you've been missing,' she said wryly as she moved towards her office.

She's holding herself too straight, he thought as he followed. He knew what that meant…

'Thought I'd come for lunch. And to bring you these,' he added, tossing a handful of bubble packs onto her desk. 'You must need 'em by now.'

The lines around his wife's mouth tightened. 'I'm fine.'

Tom sighed and sank down onto the old sofa in the corner. After years of abuse the leather was battered and worn, rendering it unrecognisable from the sleek furniture purchased for Michael Byrne nearly two decades before.

'No, you're not—and no-one expects you to be. You've just had a hefty chunk of your liver removed, for God's sake! The only person who thinks you should be back to normal this soon is you.'

She sat down carefully. 'Yeah, and I'm handling it, OK? I'm not taking those drugs if I don't need them.'

'What, because you're not in screaming agony?' Tom circled the desk, bracing himself against its edge. 'Come on, love. For me. I know you're in pain, I can see it in the way you move—' Christine's head dipped and he realised that somehow he'd hit a nerve. 'Chris?'

'CC knows,' she said softly. 'Oh, not about the cancer. But she knows there's something wrong. She er, she had a little tantrum in my lesson earlier. I threw her out.'

'And?'

'And… I went to find out what's going on her head. I mean, she's never kicked off like that in school before—'

'With you, you mean,' Tom interrupted with a rueful grimace. 'Our CC has a right temper on her—but let's give the kid credit, she's not daft. Knows better than to put the wind up you.'

'While she gave you hell because you've always spoiled her rotten,' Christine returned with a swiftness that made him grin. 'Can't say you weren't warned.'

'Hey, isn't that what grandpas are for? You've got to admit, we do a mean good cop/bad cop turn—'

'As we should, we've had enough practice!' his wife retorted and the look they exchanged momentarily restored the world to rights. 'So. Are you going to get me water for these?' She pointed towards the pile of tablets in front of her and Tom moved with alacrity, eager to get the water before she changed her mind.

He waited patiently as she worked her way through the packets, silently lifting each one and pocketing it as she finished. It was a routine they'd polished in recent weeks; there was no need even to speak.

'They scare me,' Christine said at last, so quietly that he had to strain to hear. 'Because they work. They work fast, they wipe the pain out—'

All at once Tom understood. 'Like alcohol.' She gave a tiny nod, her eyes shadowed, and he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. 'And this is why—? I hate to break it to you, love, but you've been torturing yourself for no reason. Those drugs, they're not addictive. I asked.'

'Are you sure?'

'Positive. You're off the really strong stuff.'

He saw her take a deep, shaky breath. 'That's, that's good to know.'

'Come on,' he said, holding out a hand. 'Let's get comfortable. I want to hear about CC.'

'Not much to tell,' she said as they moved to the sofa, still hand-in-hand. 'She wasn't happy we missed her birthday, she seemed pretty upset about it. I tried to calm her down and she threw herself on me as per usual and…' Christine sucked in. 'The pain was sickening for a moment, Tom. I couldn't hide it and she noticed—'

''Course she did,' he said gently, pressing the fingers he still held. 'Like I said, she's not daft.'

'I promised I'd tell her more later. She said Dynasty wouldn't be happy and she's right, Dyn's always said that she wanted to shield the kids from it.'

'Dyn's sensible enough to know that's not feasible with Carol-Christine, whatever Imogen's told,' Tom pointed out. 'She is, we just need to remind her of it. It's one thing to keep it from Tina and Kev, but Dynasty's pair? We see too much of them for lies, even well-meant lies.'

Christine's lips thinned. 'Exactly. I've never lied to those kids, I'm not gonna start now. CC's asking questions and she deserves the truth and that's what I'm going to tell Dynasty. She can take it or leave it.'

'Ask CC to come to ours for her tea. Why not? We did miss her birthday, after all.'

'Full of good ideas today, aren't you,' Christine murmured as she tried to suppress a yawn, her head moving to rest on his shoulder. He shifted so that she could settle comfortably, realising that she was more exhausted than she'd ever admit after a full morning in school.

'That's why you married me,' he returned softly. There was no response. Several minutes passed; he counted them by the ticking of the old-fashioned clock on the wall. 'Who'll tell Dyn?'

Again there was no answer.

Tom glanced down and saw that his wife was fast asleep. Once upon a time—only a few months before—he'd have roused her to tease her mercilessly about nodding off, but not now. In fact, he thought as he studied the soundproofing on the ceiling, he might just take a kip himself. If they were having CC for dinner there'd be little in the way of rest for either of them that night.

Christine roused with a small groan at the sound of a mobile ringing. She'd managed to see the school day out despite strenuous objections from Tom and Sonya, but once home she'd capitulated and headed bedwards.

She turned over to see Tom give an apologetic grimace as he mouthed, 'Dynasty.'

'Ah.' She waited until he hung up. 'So?'

'She's on her way with CC now, says she'll be with us in twenty or so.'

'Good.' Christine rubbed her eyes and tried to push up into a sitting position, wincing when the movement pulled on the slowly healing shark-like wound in her abdomen.

'Will you stop trying to do everything yourself?' Tom scolded as he beat her pillows into submission. 'You still need to take it easy. The doctor said it could be months before you're fully recovered.'

Christine's lips tightened. She didn't want to hurt him by screaming her fears that all this resting was wasting precious hours that she might not have.

'Thanks,' she said shortly instead, leaning back against the newly plumped pillows. 'What about dinner?'

Her husband smirked. 'Sorted. Bol's in the slow cooker, just the spag to do.'

'Garlic bread? CC loves the stuff.'

'Ready to go, I've even changed the linen in the girls' room.'

Christine's eyebrows went up. 'You really have thought of everything!'

'Yup. All we need to do is get up and get down there—' He broke off as they heard the front door slam. 'Bugger. Too late.'

'Nan! Grandpa! Where are you?'

'Sorry,' Tom mouthed before yelling, 'Up here, love!'

Christine set her teeth and prepared to rise but Tom's hand closed over her wrist, holding her in place.

'We were gonna tell her anyway,' he reminded her gently. 'Better get it over with, eh?'

She swallowed and nodded without words, forcing herself to relax. Tension tightened the muscles and worsened the pain, she'd found.

'What're you doin' in here?' CC demanded as she entered. 'It's only half six!'

'We're worn out after a day of you lot,' her adopted grandfather retorted. 'Have to recharge an' all.'

CC grinned. 'That's why I never wanna get old, must be dead boring—' She paused, the grin morphing into big-eyed pleading. 'Can I come in?'

Christine smiled. ''Course you can. Make the most of it, eh?'

'Without crawling all over us,' Tom added quickly, and Christine shot him a look.

'S'if I'd be that clumsy,' CC scoffed, wriggling into the space they'd created between them. She sighed. 'This is nice. Why did we stop doing this?'

'You grew up, sweetheart.' Christine lifted her arm and allowed the girl to snuggle close.

'Nan?' CC's voice had gone very soft, her fingers picking at the grey wool of her grandmother's cardigan. 'What did you mean, make the most of it?'

'Just if you get any bigger there'll be no room in the bed—oi!' Tom objected. 'My bed, my rules, Carol-Christine, so keep your fingers to yourself. You're not too big to get dumped on the floor, my lass.'

CC did not smile. Despite the nip she'd given Tom her attention remained on Christine. 'Nan. Are you sick?'

Christine pressed her lips together. She'd wanted to have this conversation but now that the moment was at hand…

She stroked a curly lock. 'What makes you ask that?'

'Them tablets on your table, there's loads. And—'

Christine felt a momentary pressure on the tightly bound dressing about her middle and managed to bite off a cry of protest.

CC sat up, suddenly looking much older than her barely thirteen years. 'I knew it, you've had an operation,' she accused. 'An' you never told us. Why?'

'We didn't want to worry you,' Tom said.

Their granddaughter's eyes went glassily huge. 'Worry? Grandpa, I knew somethin' was up. Mum's been dead upset, her and Dad have been arguin' and we never saw you and I didn't know why and then Nan wasn't in school for weeks and weeks and weeks and she's never off in term-time—' She sniffled and stopped to wipe at her cheeks with a frustrated motion that reminded Christine of Dynasty. 'Is it serious? Are you gonna die?'

'No!' That was Tom, reacting instinctively. Christine glared at him above the girl's head. She had said she would not lie.

'Not for a long time, I hope,' she told CC softly.

Her granddaughter crumpled and Christine took her hand and squeezed until the girl glanced up, blue eyes swimming.

'Listen to me, CC. Listen, OK? Everyone dies, it's a fact of life. Me. Your grandpa. Even you, kiddo. Now. I've been diagnosed with cancer and I'm not gonna pretend to you that everything's going to be fine, because I don't know that. No-one does. What I will absolutely promise is that I'm not gonna give in. I'm going to fight this thing, whatever it takes—'

'That's what Jonny's mum said,' CC said, her tones muffled by Christine's cardigan. 'He told me, he said she swore to him she was gonna fight, she wasn't gonna leave him, and—and…'

Christine's breath caught and her arm tightened around CC's shoulders. How could she have forgotten that? Jonny's mum had worked at Waterloo Road as a cleaner for years and she'd been universally feared for her sharp tongue. When the news of her diagnosis broke everyone was confident she was tough enough to beat the cancer, that even that most virulent of invaders would fall before the woman's dogmatic strength. Three months later she was dead, leaving a stunned and traumatised son with no other family and nowhere to go—except Waterloo Road's boarding house.

'It's—it's not the same,' Tom said, his own voice cracking. 'Jonny's mum, she had a rare type of cancer. She was already far gone when they diagnosed her, no matter what she told Jonny, she knew from day one she wasn't gonna make it. Your nan and me, we tried to get her to tell him the truth… but she wouldn't. She couldn't. Jonny worked it out for himself, didn't he?'

CC had turned towards him. 'Yeah. He… he were proper ragin' over it, but broken up too.'

'I wouldn't let that happen to you,' Christine told her. 'I know we haven't been straight with you about this op, but…' She sighed. 'We needed to get our own heads around it first. The important thing is, it's not the same. You know I'm a recovered alcoholic, CC. You've always known it, we've never hidden it. I knew this was a possibility. So… when I started noticing that things weren't quite right, I didn't sit on it, I did something about it. I've had this op and who knows, maybe that'll have sorted it and—and all this, we'll be able to forget about it, yeah, and—'

'Are you scared, Nan?'

Christine had to cover her mouth at that, as if to catch the sob that burst from her of its own volition. Once again her gaze met her husband's above CC's head. His jaw was very square, his lips a twisted line, and she could read her own emotions there.

'Yeah.' She pulled CC closer. 'Yeah, I'm scared.' She closed her eyes; 'scared' was an understatement of titanic proportions—but there was no way she was going to put that into words for a child of thirteen.

Their adopted granddaughter surprised them. She sat up straight, dislodging Christine's arm and pulling her knees to her chest.

'Right. This is what we're gonna do,' she began, sounding eerily like Dynasty Chalk. 'We're gonna have the hugest, biggest, totally epic family Christmas ever.' She shivered and drew her knees closer; Tom tucked the duvet cover around her legs. 'Can we? Can we do that?'

Just in case it's the last one…

CC did not say the words; she didn't need to. Christine heard them loud and clear and her throat tightened, strangled by an uneasy mingling of pride and terror. Unable to speak, she nodded, her eyes finding Tom's.

He reached for her hand, his gaze concerned. 'Will you be up for it? Christmas is only three weeks away.'

She expelled a slow breath, determined to regain control. 'I think… I think it sounds like a great plan, bring it on!' CC's smile was luminous and Christine grabbed her arm, alarm prickling through her. 'But I don't want this to cast a shadow, OK? Tina and Kev don't know, I'm sure Imogen doesn't know. Mika Charles is coming to stay, we asked Izzie and her mum and dad to stay quiet until we go down in the new year. CC, I need you be grown-up about this. Can you go through Christmas knowing without telling the other kids?'

The girl gulped. 'Yeah.'

'And you can come and talk to us at any time,' Tom added. 'We'd've preferred not to lay this on you, but… you're too clever for us, kiddo.'

CC was shaking. Christine could feel it, a small shudder that rippled through the mattress. Clearly a distraction was called for.

'OK, teatime. Let's go down and see if Grandpa's managed to not burn the spag bol this time, eh?'

'It's impossible to burn anything in the slow cooker,' Tom pointed out as he slid off the bed. 'Why d'you think your darling son got us it?'

CC's face split in the monkey grin that reminded Christine of a young Kevin. 'He told me it was 'cause the pair of yous are a health'n'safety hazard.'

'Oh, did he?' Christine watched CC roll off the bed with a nimble grace she found herself envying. 'I'll be giving that boy a stern talking-to the next time he's up!'

'And me,' Tom added.

CC smirked. She turned at the door when her grandparents stayed where they were. 'Aren't you comin'?'

'We'll follow you in a sec,' Tom said, much to Christine's relief. 'There's garlic bread in the fridge, why don't you put it in? Since we're such health and safety risks?'

That monkey grin spread across CC's face once again and she was gone. Christine waited until the rhythmic thump on the stairs had ceased before she spoke.

'Thanks for that, I didn't want her to see—'

'I guessed.' Tom studied her. 'Take your time, there's no rush.' He grinned. 'The garlic bread's at the back of the fridge, she'll have a job finding it.'

Christine began to laugh and regretted it. 'Ouuuch… You're an evil man, Tom Clarkson.' Carefully, she pushed up from the pillow and swung her feet to the floor, her lips pressing thin against the momentary increase of pain. She'd need more pills soon. Still moving cautiously, she stood, ignoring Tom's extended hand until she was safely upright.

'Christine, one, cancer, nil,' Tom muttered in her ear and she hid a smile. It faded as they reached the landing and her fingers tightened on his.

'Are we doing the right thing? Telling her?'

'I hope so. It's a lot to put on a kid her age, but we'd no choice. Let's just … try and enjoy Christmas and keep our fingers crossed. All we can do.'

'H'mmm.' She squeezed his hand again. 'Let's get that bite to eat. I've just realised I'm actually hungry.'

Tom's delighted beam was the best thing she'd seen all day.

I hope that wasn't too sugary! As ever, comments of all and any kind are welcome—all the more so for this as only one more part is absolutely guaranteed. Beyond that…. Well, if you want more all you have to do is tell me so!