A/N - Huge, massive apologies to those of you that have been waiting for an update. Even when life hands me a little bit of free time to sit down and write, I've found it increasingly difficult to write these chapters. As I stated at the beginning, this story was supposed to be a sort of catharsis, but instead it is leaning more towards bringing up a lot of old memories that I now realize I suppressed for a reason. I assure you I will finish though and that the story behind the fic will be told at the end.

Thank you, thank you, thank you to those that are still here with me and who have taken the time to review. I failed epically at responding this last go round, but trust that your words meant the world and put a smile on my face when I needed it most.

Again, I must reiterate before you read this chapter that I am in no way an expert and do not claim to know every last detail of this route of treatment. For the sake of fiction everywhere, go with it.

*Updated with beta'd version. Massive thanks go out to Tiffanyanne3 and dreamergirl87 for all the work they did on this chapter. And thanks to those of you that reviewed already for not hounding me on all the errors I had made!

Song Credit - Possibility *Lykke Li*

BPOV

"You're such a cheater!"

"Oh, don't be such a sore loser. Do enlighten me, little one, on how it is possible to cheat in a game where all you do is draw cards."

"Hmph. I don't know how you're doing it, Emmett McCarty, but you're cheating. No one goes out every single round."

Jasper and I laughed as we listened to Alice and Em bicker back and forth. We had been playing Phase 10 all morning; Alice was determined to beat Emmett at least once.

It was so nice having Em around. He was only a couple of years older than me, and despite seeing very little of each other growing up, he's always been like my big brother. He's a brute – tall, broad shoulders, muscles stretching out every shirt he owns, typical ex-football player style – but he's protective and not an ounce of negativity runs through his veins.

He was the streak of sun breaking through the dark, ominous, permanent clouds that were the hospital, the doctors…Edward. He was more distant than ever after the seizure. He was here physically, until I would force him away, but emotionally - I had lost him. His tone was clipped, angry. It was as though he was merely here out of obligation.

And I was starting to resent him for it.

I didn't want pity from anyone, least of all my husband, but I wanted to hold his hand. I wanted him to lie in this dismal hospital bed and watch shit television with me. I wanted him to read to me, since my blurring vision no longer allowed me to do so. I wanted him to insert ill-timed and inappropriate jokes into tense conversations with the doctors to lighten the mood.

I missed my husband. I resented my husband. I hated myself for resenting him.

Emmett's arrival couldn't have come at a more perfect time. He brought optimism and a smile back to my face. It felt foreign and…wrong…the first time I laughed. He had walked into my room that night, the nurses still typing away on their computers and machines after the doctors had explained what happened.

"Have no fear, Emmett is here," he shouted as he walked around the curtain. "Jesus, Bells, you couldn't wait until I got here to put on this little show? I'm hurt."

"Hey, Em." My voice was hoarse; I was still dizzy and completely off my rocker on the meds they'd given me.

"Hey there, niece of mine. You look like shit." I had just stared at him for a minute before I burst out laughing.

It hurt, made the dizziness even worse and caused a wave of dry-heaves to hit, but it felt good.

I sat back against my pillow while Alice collected the cards and began shuffling. We had raised the bed as much as it would go, and Alice sat at my feet with the tray table next to us. Emmett and Jasper pulled up chairs and sat at the opposing corners of the table.

"Hey, wake up," Emmett said, pinching my leg. "Nap time doesn't start for another thirty minutes."

"Kiss my ass, Em," I said, flipping him off.

"So, when does this transplant business happen?" Jasper asked from his corner.

"They've already got me pill-popping to get my…whatever it is…ready to go," Emmett answered, gesturing up and down his body.

"Marrow, Em." I chuckled.

"What she said. So I keep taking these pills, Bells here does another week of chemo, and then we're off to the races."

"More chemo?" Alice asks me, concerned. I don't miss her quick glance at my head, which has thinned out even more over the last couple of days. You could see through to the scalp in places.

"Just a week's worth. Something about getting my immune system to its weakest point makes it easier for the transplanted cells to start building a new one." I shrug. It was all complete medical bullshit to me, I just went where they wanted me to at that point.

"Then what?" Jasper's inquisitive mind was never-ending. He'd been fascinated through the entire process – how the diagnosis was made, how the chemo works, why my hair fell out, why they did this, why they did that.

"Then B and I get to shack up for a few hours while they jam the big needle into my hip and then into her."

I rolled my eyes at Emmett's description of the process and how unaffected he seemed by it all.

"Wow. And how long until they know if it works?" Jasper looked to me this time.

"Two to four weeks. They'll keep checking my white counts. If it starts going up, it's working. If it doesn't…"

"Aah, it'll work just fine. Look at me! How could it not? In fact, I bet it starts working almost instantly. I always was big for my age – maybe my genes are like that movie Jack so they grow at an exponential rate."

"Wow, big word Emmett," I teased.

"Yep. And I didn't even go to college," he said proudly.

We all laughed as Emmett continued to spout off words he'd picked up over the years at his job as a prison security guard. Some of those criminals were pretty damn intelligent. He was in the middle of a story about the day he and an inmate got into an argument over which one of them created the word "ginormous" when we heard someone clear their throat.

"Am I interrupting?" Edward asked, sounding irritated, from the corner of the room. His eyes were dark and puffy, black circles beginning to form underneath. I was worried about him.

"Of course not," I said as cheerily as possible.

"Hey man, wanna join in? We can start this round over," Emmett offered.

"No, no. Don't start over for me. I'm good."

"Come on, bro. There's plenty of room," Jasper said, scooting his chair closer to the bed.

"I'm good," Edward said, plopping down on the couch with a sigh.

The rest of the game was played in relative silence, with only the occasional jab between Alice and Emmett. Everyone became tense when Edward was around, another reason I forced him back to work more often. It was nice to pretend things were okay, to be happy for those few hours when it was just Emmett and me. Edward came around, and it was like the little black rain cloud that followed you wherever you went, no matter what you did to lose it.

The week went by in much the same fashion. Edward went to work at the clinic for a few hours each day while Emmett and I did whatever we could to pass the time. The occasional visitor would stop by – Esme would sneak in contraband snacks and teas for us, Carlisle always with words of encouragement after reading my chart, Alice and Jasper came as often as they could. They still hadn't brought Aiya around, which broke my heart, but I understood. The last thing I wanted to do was scare my girl. My hospital room was now decorated floor to ceiling with cards from my library kids. Get well wishes and "we miss you" scribbled in toddler handwriting replaced the drab white walls. I kept a picture they had sent along showing all of the kids together with the cards they'd made. I missed them terribly. When I thought of never being able to work with them again, to hear their little voices mimic mine during stories, the pain was all-consuming.

"So they're doing the transplant tomorrow."

"Yeah, that's what Dad said."

"Will you be here?"

"Do you want me to be?"

That was a loaded question. Did I want Edward, my husband, here while I underwent the procedure that could save my life? I picked at my nail beds as I thought it over. I should want him here. The doctors had explained what was going to happen, and I knew it would be a difficult few hours. Given that, any wife would want her husband by her side, holding her hand, wiping away her tears.

But if I was honest with myself, I really had no desire to have him there.

I didn't want or need his negativity through it. I needed love, support, neither of which I was receiving from him at the moment.

But he was my husband, he should be there.

"Bella?"

I looked up at him, still not sure what my answer should be.

"It's up to you," I said quietly, still picking at the raw skin on my fingers.

"I've got a new patient coming in first thing in the morning, so I guess it depends on him. Sounds like he's in pretty rough shape, so it may take some time."

"Yeah, okay, of course. Do what you need to do."

"Let's do this!" Emmett shouted as they wheeled us through the double doors and into the sterile procedure room. It was a now-familiar room, almost comforting.

Emmett jumped out of the wheelchair and onto the bed as they wheeled my bed up next to him. We were both quickly surrounded by nurses prepping us. It wasn't long before both Dr. Ganske and Dr. Biers came waltzing in. The déjà vu I felt was intense.

"What up, doc?" Emmett said, shaking hands with Riley. He gave his standard nod and smirk to Dr. Ganske. Age difference and marital status clearly meant little to my dear uncle.

"Alright, guys, here's what's going to happen. We're going to hook Emmett here up to this monster of a machine. It's going to take your blood, Emmett, separate the stem cells, and then pump the blood back into you. We're giving you some anti-nausea meds to prevent any queasiness, but you'll probably feel pretty light-headed for a while - thus the bed. As you both know, it's not typical that we let you both be together through all of this. But thanks to your connections…" Riley looked to me, smirking, "…we're doing this in one take. So while Emmett is donating, Bella, we'll get you prepped with a central line and ready for the transplant."

It had been four months since I was first diagnosed, and I was still blown away at how nonchalantly these doctors discussed treatments and procedures. They made something so pivotal, so intricate and detail-oriented, sound as simple as making toast.

"Alright! Let's get the show on the road," Emmett bellowed from his bed next to me. Riley smiled before patting Emmett on the shoulder. As he and the rest of the team scattered, the weight of what was happening began to hit me.

"Bells," Emmett said quietly. "Look at me, baby girl."

I took a deep breath, willing the tears to stay back.

"It's gonna be okay," he said, reaching for my hand. I placed mine is his, and he squeezed tightly. This was the soft side of Emmett, the side reserved strictly for me.

"I need him, Em," I whispered, the flood-gates cracking.

"Then why did you tell him to go to work?"

"Because it needs to be his choice. I need him to want to be here, not be here out of necessity."

"Bella? I love you, but you are a goddamn idiot."

"What?" I asked, angrily.

"You and Edward have always been the fairy tale. Nothing negative ever came your way, so you two have never had the need to really talk things out. You've been dealt a hell of a shitty hand, and you and Edward are folding faster than a rookie poker player."

The tears started falling somewhere around fairytale and nothing negative ever happening. He was right. I hated him for it, but he was right. Edward and I never needed to talk about things; we'd just always known what the other was thinking.

We didn't say anything more to each other, but Emmett's hand stayed firmly wrapped around mine.

Getting the central line put in didn't hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would have, considering they put a thousand inch needle around my clavicle. Emmett laughed and made fun of me when I saw the needle they were going to use. Again, after four months you'd think I'd be used to that shit.

Eventually, Emmett's part was finished. He insisted on staying with me for the remainder of the transplant. Thankfully, they had a television in the room. I was actually able to smile as I watched Emmett scream and shout at the football game he was invested in.

"Em, you're scaring the nurses."

"Did you SEE that play, Bells? RIDICULOUS." He huffed. My teddy bear uncle actually huffed in frustration.

"Isn't this preseason, anyway? What does it matter?"

"Bella, Bella, Bella," he said, shaking his head. "It matters, baby girl. It so matters."

I shrugged and went back to staring at the ceiling.

I wanted Edward here. I needed him here. I wanted his company, his shitty jokes, and his strong hands running through my hair. I needed his strength, something we had lost weeks ago. I needed to see him smile, to smirk, to laugh. This disease was killing me physically, yes, but I could deal with it. I couldn't deal with losing my husband. The physical pain the thought of losing him brought was crippling compared to the pain of actually dying.

"Alright, kids. We're all done!" Dr. Biers said cheerfully.

"Thank Christ. I'm hungry," Emmett replied.

The next few weeks were much the same. People came and went while I spent hour after hour confined to a bed and watching TV. I had managed to work through the entire Sex and the City series, as well as the movies, and I was now well-versed in ghost hunting.

Every couple of days more blood was drawn, but I was never given any word on what the results were. My hair was completely gone now. I was bald as a baby, save for a few strays here and there that managed to survive. I was embarrassed, repulsed even, by the way I looked. My attitude had taken a serious dip south. Edward didn't help matters, as he was gone more now than ever. I saw him for maybe an hour each night. My irrational side was screaming at me that it was because my hair was gone, and I not only repulsed myself, but him as well.

One day while Alice was visiting, she sat at the end of my bed with my feet in her lap and insisted on giving me a pedicure.

"I was thinking," she said, trying her damnedest to not be thoroughly repulsed by my feet.

"Did it hurt?"

"Ha ha, Bella. You're hilarious. Do you want to hear my idea or not?"

"Shoot."

"I was thinking maybe I could bring Aiya up tomorrow."

I was stunned. I completely understood the reasoning behind keeping Aiya away; even I didn't particularly like the idea of her seeing me like this. Still, it hurt not being able to take her to the park, to spoil her with ice cream, to hold her and read books together.

"Al, are you sure? I mean, I get it. She shouldn't…"

"You're looking good, Bella. And we've been talking with her a lot about what's happening. She's not old enough to fully comprehend, but she knows you're sick and the doctors are helping you. She misses you."

"I miss her, too," I said in a whisper. "But won't she be scared that I'm, ya know," I said, pointing to my head.

"Ah, yes. That, my dearest sister-in-law, is why I bought you this." Alice replaced the lid to the nail polish she had been using and reached down beside the bed. When she reemerged, she had a silver-wrapped box in her hands.

"Alice, I'm not wearing a wig. I hate being bald, but wearing a wig just…no. Not happening."

"Just open it, Bella."

I lifted the lid and hesitated before peeling back the layers of tissue paper. I inhaled audibly at what I saw.

"Alice…"

"It's silk. I found this great online company that makes the most gorgeous scarves specifically for women with hair loss."

"Alice it's…it's perfect," I choked out. The scarf was so insanely soft and slick and absolutely perfect. It was off-white with a retro black, pink, and charcoal geometric design. It was breathtaking.

"Want me to help you put it on?" she asked, enthusiasm leaking out her pores.

I couldn't help but be equally as excited. There's something to be said for feeling pretty. It's not vanity when it gives you confidence and the ability to focus on things other than how horrid you look and the sympathetic looks you get from everyone around you because they know now that you do, in fact, have cancer.

As Alice slipped the silk wrap over my scalp, I couldn't help but close my eyes and relish its soft coolness.

"There we go!" she said, tightening the final knot. "Take a look."

I took the mirror from Alice's hand and held it in front of me, eyes still closed. I couldn't help the smile that formed when I finally opened my right eye to peak at my reflection.

"Thank you, Al. I absolutely love it. As always, you are amazing."

Rather than just say I was welcome, Alice jumped and clapped while emitting that high-pitched giddy squeal thing she did.

The next day was the day – my Aiya was coming to see me. I slept maybe an hour that night and while that wasn't unusual for me anymore, this time it was due to excitement. Esme would be there as well, just in case Aiya didn't handle things well.

I was terrified of her reaction.

As Esme was helping me with the scarf, there was a gentle knock on the door.

"Knock, knock," Alice said from behind the curtain.

"Come on in," I replied, looking excitedly into Esme's equally eager eyes. I sat up as straight as I could, hoping to look as normal and un-scary as possible.

"Go ahead, Aiya," Alice nudged.

My heart rate picked up exponentially as I heard her little feet come in contact with the linoleum. Seconds later I saw her little blond, curly head peak around the corner. She looked so nervous.

"Hey there, lady bug," I said quietly, smiling the biggest smile I could muster.

Her eyes took everything in for a few horribly long seconds. My heart began breaking yet again. Just as I was about to give up and tell Alice to take her, I saw the mischievous little spark in her eye light up.

"Auntie Bewwa!" she shouted before running towards me at full speed.

A chorus of, "Oh, Aiya," and "be careful, gentle," rung out, but I didn't care. I opened my arms wide and welcomed that precious little body into my arms.

"Hello, my sweet, sweet girl," I said, planting kiss after kiss on her head and letting the tears fall freely. God I'd missed her, more than I even I realized until that very moment.

"Auntie Bewwa, why you crying? Is it cause you sick?"

"No, no, little lady. I'm just so happy to see you. These are happy tears."

"Oh. Well, I brought you a present!"

"You did?" I asked with enthusiasm.

"Uh huh. Wanna see it?"

"Of course."

"MOMMY! BRING AUNTIE BEWWA'S PRESENT!"

"Shhh, Aiya. Inside voice, remember?" Alice asked, coming around the curtain. Apparently, everyone had gone out in the hall after seeing that Aiya would be okay. "What is the polite way to ask?"

"Mommy, can you bring Auntie Bewwa's present, please?" she asked, exaggerating her whisper.

"Much better. Here you go."

"Thanks! Here, Auntie Bewwa. Open it!"

She handed me yet another box, this time wrapped in princess wrapping paper.

"Did you pick out the paper?" I asked her.

"Uh huh!" she said proudly.

I smiled, tearing open the sides and removing the box. The tears returned when I saw the little black and red ladybug sitting on a bed of tissue paper.

"It's my wadybug! The one you gaved me on my birthday!"

"Aiya, I love it, but are you sure you want to give this to me? This was for you to sleep with at night when we couldn't have sleepovers."

"I know. But I not scared anymore and Mommy said you're sick and have to stay in the hospital so we can't have sleepovers for a long time so I said you should have my wadybug so you won't miss me."

"Oh, my ladybug," I said, wiping away the tears. "This is the best present I've ever gotten."

She looked up at me, million-watt smile in place, and wrapped her arms around my neck. I squeezed her back, letting her snuggle into my neck. We stayed that way for a few minutes before she got restless and wanted me to read book after book to her.

I happily obliged.

I was feeling better than I had in months. Aiya's visit was exactly what I needed. Things between Edward and me still weren't where I wanted them, but I couldn't find it in myself to worry about them at the time – I was simply reveling in the high that a three-year-old gave me.

It was a Friday night, about three weeks after the transplant had occurred. Edward had come with his laptop and was working away in the chair next to me while Emmett was watching yet another football game.

"Don't you ever get tired of watching game after game after game?" I asked him.

"Don't you get tired of reading the same book time after time after time?"

"Touché."

Our conversation was cut short by a knock at the door. I couldn't explain it but a very bad vibe echoed through the room with that knock.

"Hey, Riley. Little late for you to still be here, isn't it?" Emmett asked.

"Long day," he said bleakly.

"What's up?" I asked, just as Dr. Ganske and Carlisle walked in. As soon as he saw his father, Edward closed his laptop and came to sit next to me on the bed.

"I'm afraid we have bad news," Dr. Ganske said.

"What sort of bad news?" Emmett asked. I was irritated and thankful for his question at the same time.

"As you know, Bella, we've been checking your blood cell counts almost daily to watch for an increase."

"Yeah, but no one ever told me what the levels were." I looked into each of their eyes and then to Edward, who was staring intently at his father. I swallowed thickly.

"I'm so sorry, Bella, but the transplant failed. Your white counts never increased. In fact, they've begun going down again."

"What?" Emmett screamed. "What the hell, doc? You said this would work!"

"I said it was our best option, Emmett. Nothing is guaranteed in the world of cancer."

Emmett continued to curse and berate the doctors while I sat in stunned silence.

It didn't work.

My best option failed.

I wasn't going to survive this.

I was going to die.

I have no idea what took place in the minutes following the word failed. Eventually, I felt Edward nudge my arm.

"Bella?"

I looked up at him, eyes heavy and swollen with unshed tears. Confusion, fear, anger, heartbreak, panic…it was all there on my face and being reflected back at me on Edward's.

"Bella…" he whispered, taking my hand.

He lowered himself down so that he was lying next to me. Instinct took over and before I knew what was happening, I was wrapped up in his arms and sobbing.

I wasn't ready to die.

A/N - Game they are playing at the beginning of the chapter was Phase 10. Highly addicting game that has been a holiday staple for the last five years. If you're curious about the scarf Alice buys, you can see it at www [dot] 4women [dot] com / fabrics / silk / 1# (As always, remember to replace [dot] and remove spaces.) The scarf I pictured is the Debo-nair. Beautiful.