A/N: If you didn't heed the warning at the beginning of this story, don't send me hate. I explicitly stated in the previous chapter that there would be chronic illness and possible death. I know all of you can read. Part of this chapter is an allusion to the heartbreakingly amazing novel The Fault in Our Stars by John Green, and owning a copy of said novel does not make me him. Similarly, owning the Major Crimes DVD set doesn't make me James Duff (unfortunately).

/Time jump of about one month/

I can't help that I've become bitter. Even after everything I told Rusty, after the promise I made to stay strong for him, I was spiraling out of control. And I knew it. Andy had seen it too, he kept trying to talk to me, kept trying to ask how I was doing, sometimes he would even call after work and ask to stop over for dinner. I always responded with the same thing, "Tonight's not a good night Andy, maybe tomorrow." "Tomorrow." He'd say and I could always hear him run his hand through his hair as he let out a sigh.

I had asked him to be there for Rusty and me, and now I was pushing him away. It's all so complicated. I don't want to hurt him, don't want to isolate him, but at the same time, I do. I know that in letting him get too close, especially now, he will see me when I break, and not just the kind of broken I was when Stroh escaped, but the kind of broken where all I will want to do is yell and cry and grieve for my child.

Look at me talking this way, my son is still very much alive. Dying, yes, but still full of life.

I'm sitting in my office after another phone call with Doctor Selig, contemplating what the older man had said to me:

"Mrs. Raydor, your son may still have a chance. There's a new drug, called Kiposkamine-"

"Of course," I cut him off, "anything to help my son."

"But there is one hitch," he pauses, "the drug is still in its trial phase, any side effects are unknown."

"Will it help?" I can't deny the fact that my heart speeds up just thinking about this.

"We saw decreased tumor growth and cell activity in our trial conducted on lab mice. The effects should be similar when tested on a human population."

"Please, sign him up for the trial. We'd both appreciate it."

"Of course. I'll see you two on Friday, have a good afternoon."

"Goodbye."

If there was one thing I learned, it was that guns could kill. But after all my years on the force, I knew it was never truly the gun that did the killing, but the lunatic wielding it. And today, I was that lunatic.

I'm still sitting at my desk, my office door locked and the blinds drawn tightly shut. Nobody needed to see what I was doing here, nobody needed to know the measures I went to in order to cope.

I turn the gun over in my hands, my trusty SIG .45, the cold of the barrel sending a chill down my spine. I wasn't going to shoot myself, wasn't going to shoot my team, but to an onlooker, this scene must have looked exactly like that.

This, this is what I feel I have to do. Every day and every night before I go to bed, I pick up my sidearm and hold it in my hands. The feeling of knowing I am holding something that can kill me is so surreal, it reminds me that life is so precious, something that seems to be of growing importance each day. There's a knock on the door and I quickly place my sidearm in my desk drawer before hurrying over and unlocking the door. I'm greeted by none other than Andy Flynn, leaning up against the door, a toothpick between his lips.

That was a new occurrence as well, the return of his toothpicks soon after Rusty's diagnosis. If it helped him to cope, who was I to judge?

"Sharon?" He asks quietly, jarring me from my daydream, "How're you doing today?"

"Ah, uhm, I'm... Okay actually." I force a smile and crossing my arms over my chest, "I talked to the doctor earlier and he actually," I divert my eyes to the floor, afraid that if I keep looking at him I'll start crying, "he found a new drug that might help him."

"Really? Sharon, that's great!" He exclaims, and before I can even register what's happening, his arms are wrapped tightly around my waist and my feet are off the ground.

"Lieutenant, put me down!" I shriek in his ear. By now, the entire team is watching us, except Provenza, who seems preoccupied with his crossword puzzle. He's gotten so good at pretending we don't bother him.

"As you wish." He grins and places me back down, wrapping his arm around my waist and ushering me towards the elevator.

"Where are we going?"

"I think news like that deserves a little celebration, don't you?!" He asks and I see his face light up in a way that it hadn't for a while. This had really taken its toll on him too.

"I suppose." I grin and shake my head as the elevator lurches downward.