A/N: My apologies for the delay, I had some personal stuff to work through. But here you are.

For kate4ever12 and The Frozen Snowflake.

Chapter 7

Hazel

I was awake. I haven't slept as well as I did last night in a really long time. I didn't wake up once from coughing. I didn't dream either. I wished I had dreamt. I'm a pretty lucid dreamer.

Mom came into the room, a frown on her pretty face. When she saw me move she breathed a sigh of relief. As if she was afraid I had died in my sleep. And then a brief flash of guilt clouded her face - as if relief at me dying in my sleep made her feel guilty.

"How did you sleep, sweetheart?" She asked, pressing a hand to my forehead. Concern was etched into every line of her face.

"Really well," I said, "I didn't wake up once." It was a good thing. It was honestly a good thing.

"That's good, isn't it?" She was trying to convince herself more than me. I smiled in confirmation.

"Yeah, I think so," I answered, swinging my legs off the bed.

I took a breath and smiled again. It was a pain-free breath. It was a magnificent feeling. It caused my heart to fill with a small bit of hope.

"You okay? What happened last night?" Mom asked, probably growing concerned at my smile. She worried way too much.

My smile grew even wider, and mom started laughing uncertainly.

"Mom... I... It..." I stuttered, my inability to form sounds into words astounding even me, not that I wasn't normally an annoying chatterbox, "It was..."

"Use your words, honey," Mom said gently, amused, "Words, Hazel."

"It was amazing," I finally managed, "And... Mom, He spoke to me."

The memory of God telling me to trust Him... That He actually spoke to me.

"I'm sure a lot of people did," She said, feeling my forehead again. I guess I forgot to tell her that it was God.

"No, mom, I mean God," I said quickly, "He said that I should trust Him."

Her eyes lingered on me for a moment too long. Oh no, she was going to say I was going crazy, that I should stop going to YG and put it out of my mind.

"And how would you if it was God, honey?" She asked, her tone chosen carefully. I had no idea where she was going with this.

"Because it was in my head, and He said my name." I answered, realising that I sounded like a crazy person with every word I said.

She blinked rapidly, and she wiped a tear away. She laughed and drew me into her arms. She was either about to tell me it was okay or she was weeping that I had slipped into madness.

"Mom?" I chanced. She let go of me and looked at me. She wasn't much of a crier, that was dad's job, but here my mom was, sort of crying.

It was the cry you got when you're really happy, but you don't want to sound like a baby, so you end up laughing like a maniac instead.

Or that was what I thought, anyway. I thought it was a good sign.

"I'm relieved," She admitted, "I was worried about you." I was relieved too - I was terrified she'd tell me to stop going.

"Do you believe in God, mom?" I asked.

"Yes, honey, I do," She said, "And I'm happy for you."

"Do you believe in miracles?" I asked next. Because I was desperately believing for one. Only now I didn't toss my wishes at stars anymore.

"You are my miracle, Hazel," She pressed a kiss to my forehead, "You're amazing."

I smiled at her again, "I love you, mom."

"You too, Hazel," She headed to the door, "What do you want for breakfast?"

"I'm coming down," I said, and when she looked at me as though I was insane (again), I laughed, "I feel fine, mom. Come on."

. . .

I always thought I could identify with her. With Anna. In Van Houten's book. Because we were both dying and both young.

But now I don't. Because now I can live. Because now I want to live. I'm not okay with taking my death lying down.

Okay, that was a bad play on words, but I'm not going down without a fight, at least. I'm gonna face the Grim Reaper with a pair of shiny red boxing gloves.

I closed my eyes as my body, donned in a white dress that made my butt hang out, was pulled in for a PET scan.

We had to see if the tumours had grown or if they were the same or, by some miracle, they started to shrink.

I heard the machine around me; the low buzzing nearly numbing my thoughts. It would be easy for me to fall asleep in the bubble of radiation.

Maybe I'd live. Maybe I'd live longer. Maybe I'd die sooner. But... I was okay with that. Life and death both seemed close, and I guess they always were.

Death always seemed to me like this huge blockade; an eternity of darkness and nothingness. Would I realise I was dead? Would I be capable of thought? Would I see Gus again? And did the Grim Reaper have terrifying flapping wings?

Was it all, this life and everything we did, for nothing?

No. I couldn't believe that. I refused to. Heaven was real. Heaven had to be real. It just had to.

I was hauled out and taken to a private room, where I kept my hand firmly upon my gown near my behind.

Mom and I waited for a (long) while, and a grinning Dr. Marie finally burst into the room.

I guess we got the results, soon too, the perks of having a good hospital taking care of you.

"They're shrinking," Dr. Marie announced, and I sucked in a deep breath, "Your tumours have started to shrink, Hazel, and at an alarming rate!"

"What?" I asked, unable, no unwilling, to believe. Mom had frozen in place.

"The Phalanxifor has caused the tumours to shrink in size," She explained, putting the scan results on a board and putting on the light. It showed my lungs, but the areas I knew to be dark with the tumours, had started to decrease. It didn't cover as much space as it had before.

I took a step closer to the board, my hand rising to touch the image, but not touching it. I didn't know what radioactive shit there was behind this picture and I already had had enough radiation for one lifetime.

"How can this be?" Mom asked, and I felt a smile splitting through my skin.

Maybe I'd live.

. . .

"Isaac!" I screamed, announcing myself as I let myself into his room. He was in front of his gaming system, and he took off his earphones.

"Calm yourself, I'm blind, not deaf!" Isaac replied in the same volume, "But I'm glad to see, uh, hear you too."

I hurried into his room and sat down next to him, taking his hands.

"Woah, this seems serious," He said when he felt my hands, "What's up?"

"My tumours..." I started, and he inhaled sharply.

"Did they start to grow?" He asked, his hands becoming limp in mine.

"No... Isaac... Isaac they shrank..." I said, and his smile grew.

"Are you serious?" He asked, hiding (or trying to) the excitement in his voice. I guess I couldn't blame him.

"Yeah... Dr. Marie said they're shrinking at an alarming rate. Chances are I'd still have to carry around ol' Phil here, but Isaac, the cancer's going! It's gonna be gone!" I couldn't help but smile and shriek, because years of waiting to die, I had some hope to cling to.

His calloused hands felt my hands, then my arms until I realised he was trying to hug me, and I just threw myself against him. I started to cry, and he pulled me tightly against him.

"That's great," He said softly, his arms tightened around me, "I get to keep you."

"I'm not a pet, Isaac," I chastised him, and he laughed.

"I know, but you're my best friend," He pulled away, "And I get to know you a while longer."

I couldn't help but laugh at him. With him.

"Have you told Lily?" He asked, "If anyone deserves to know, it's her. She's been telling us to believe in miracles, and thanks to her I did."

I started, I should call her. I had completely forgotten.

I fumbled with my phone. My hands were still shaking after three hours. Mom and I told dad about the cancer shrinking and I took the car and raced over here.

Lily's phone rang and rang... And rang and rang... Until a woman's voice said that the number I had dialled was unavailable and that I should call back later.

I redialed immediately and got the same result.

"I can't get a hold of her," I frowned, "Do you think something's wrong?" I was worried. Strange since I barely knew her. I'm not much of an empath.

"Yes," He said bluntly, "Call Rory."

"I would, but I don't have his number," I answered, making a mental note to get it, "I'm gonna try again."

I did, and this time I got an answer, to my immense relief.

"H-hello? Li-Lily's phone," A familiar voice answered.

"Rory?" I asked, "Is Lily with you?"

"N-no, sh-she's in surgery," He said, and I could tell he was panicked. My heart jumped into my throat - was she okay?

"What? Why?" I stuck to those words. Could she have gone in for the brain surgery? Then why didn't she tell anyone?

"There was a-an accident, she b-broke a rib," He was clearly worried out of his mind, "Sh-she was th-thrown against a wall, and i-it broke her rib."

"Rory, calm down, where are you?"

"I'm at the h-hospital, I haven't b-been able to f-find her parents, th-they just rushed her into sur-surgery." He was stuttering less and less, which was probably a good thing.

"I'll talk to them, where does she live?"

He gave me her home address. I explained to Isaac what I could, and he insisted on going with me.

I found her house easily: it was huge, white and there was a huge seven on the mailbox, a comically large seven too.

The door opened when we stopped, and a little girl ran out, the spitting image of Lily, with a smile on her face.

She saw me and her shoulders drooped, "Granny, it's not auntie!" She yelled, running back to the door, where a tall woman stood, a frown on her face.

"Mrs Holzer?" I asked, and she raised an eyebrow, "I'm a friend of Lily's..."

"Do you know where she is?" She interrupted me, "She didn't come home last night..."

"She's at the hospital with Rory," I said quickly, "She had an accident..."

She took a step back, her breath hitching, her eyes wide, "What happened?"

"I don't know," I answered honestly, "But he's been looking for you."

Not long after and four people were piled into a car, on their way to the central medical station of this fine town, with Isaac and I following them.

At the hospital, Mrs Holzer introduced herself formally and apologised for jumping onto my case.

"I understand, ma'am, you're worried," I tried to soothe her, "Let's just see if she's okay."

Inside we found Rory. He was staring at a wall, his hands wrought together like iron, his hair on end, probably from running his hands through it a lot.

"Rory," Mrs Holzer sounded relieved at seeing him, "What happened?"

He hesitated, "We were praying, ma'am, and the person didn't take it well." He didn't meet her eyes.

Mrs Holzer sighed, "I understand. Don't fuss too much. What happened to her?"

"She has a broken rib, it caused some internal bleeding," He explained, finally looking up to meet her eyes.

"First time she's been in the hospital for something like this," Her dad said to me, "Never broken anything and was never really sick enough either. Only time she got sick we found she had cancer." He spoke in half sentences, always forgetting the pronouns, or most of the time.

"I'm sorry, sir," I said, not knowing what else to say.

He shrugged before joining his wife.

"I think she's absorbing all our bad luck," Isaac mused, "I'm cancer-free and your tumours are shrinking, and she gets a broken rib. What are the odds?"

I didn't answer, mostly because I didn't know what to say.

I called home and told them I'd be a bit late.

Rory managed to disentangle himself from the Holzers, where two tiny children sat still and kept glancing at their grandparents, and came over to us. He took one good look at me and smile broadly.

"So what's the good news?" He asked, crossing his arms and lifting a bushy eyebrow.

"How do you..." I started, but he cut across me.

"I see it in your eyes. What is it?"

"My tumours are shrinking. Quickly too." I said, though it felt strange to be happy at the hospital.

"That's great news!" He exclaimed, drawing me into his beefy arms, "You should just trust God in everything, He knows what He's doing. He's got this."

"And Lily?" Isaac asked softly, "Has He got her back?"

Rory's smile lessened, but didn't totally evaporate. It was a soft smile.

"Of course He does," Rory answered, "But maybe He needs her more than we do."

"That's actually very nice," Isaac said, "A variation from 'God picked his prettiest rose soonest' - God can grow His own roses if He so desperately wants one."

"She's not dead, guys," I snapped, "Maybe she'll have a miracle."

Rory sighed, "You know what, Hazel? She is the miracle."

And I believe that to the man in front of me, she was.

. . .

A/N: Please review!