All Marvel characters belong to Stan Lee and Co.

So sorry. I got sick and then had school. But here it is! Just to let everyone know, I did research the disease and treatment and such things.

The hospital is now an apartment complex. But it was, at one time, a hospital. if I got anything wrong, feel free to tell me. NICELY.

I did write the poem, so it is original work and I would ask that you not use it without my permission or not crediting me.

Thanks.

Enjoy.

I sigh and place my face in my hands. Sitting on Tony's couch in his New York Avenger's tower, I contemplate what I'm going to do. Pepper had recently told me that Tony is still alive and will probably be home soon. Logan has disappeared into the Canadian wilderness and Gambit is back in New Orleans, playing cards and occasionally working for the Thieves' Guild. Hawkeye and Black Widow, I glance over at the clock, 3:04 a.m. it saying in large red lettering, they are probably just getting to China.

So, I am currently alone and desperately trying not to drown. Nightcrawler has gone back to Xavier's Institute, trying to help fill in for the missing teachers. He invited me, but I can't go knowing I am the reason they will never see Rogue again. Remy checks in every once in a while, as does Logan when he is in an area with phone service. Kurt calls every Sunday to check up on me.

I stand wearily, grasping the back of the couch as a wave of dizziness washes over me. Damn, I forgot to take my pills. I look at my watch and see that the battery has died, explaining why there had been no alarm. I'd have to get a new one soon. The time it stopped at is 8:42. I take a deep breath and slowly make my way to the kitchen.

"Miss Kaburi, would you like me to call for assistance? I believe Miss Potts or Captain Rogers are available."

"No thanks you, JARVIS," I reply, reaching the kitchen and raising a trembling hand to the cabinet that holds the Gleevec. I take it out and stare at the white oval medication. I have been diagnosed with chronic myelogenous leukemia around a month ago. I haven't told anyone, but JARVIS mentioned it in front of Steve and Pepper, forcing me to tell them. Hawkeye and Black Widow only know because they are my emergency contacts.

I noticed it when I had been tiring much more easily and waking up with my sheets soaked in sweat. I began rapidly losing weight and rarely seemed to be hungry. I had got blood work done and found I have leukemia.

I swallowed, looking up into the sad, pitying eyes of the doctor. "I, I can't have cancer. I can't."

The pity on his face is standard for news like this. His eyes were a muddy brown, pitying, but not really sad. He does not know me and I do not know him. This is the first time we've met. He did not take care of me as a child and watch me grow up. I was a stranger to him, a stranger he was bound by oath to take care of, but still a stranger.

He discussed my next appointment, but his voice was distant in my ears. When he asked if I had anyone I wanted to contact I made the decision to not tell anyone. Not Steve. Not Pepper. Certainly not Logan and Remy. But there was absolutely no way on Heaven or Earth that Tony Stark would find out about this. When I told him this he frowned and said, "We need someone to contact in the case of an emergency."

I made another split-second decision. I pulled out my Stark Tech phone and pressed 1. It rang for several moments.

"Hey, Jay-bird."

"Hey, Barton." I swallowed.

"What's wrong?" Clint always knew something was wrong.

"I need you to come to Adelphi Hospital in Brooklyn."

There was silence for a moment before Clint said, "I'm heading over. If you leave I will drag you back and strap you to a bed."

I gave a half-smile that he couldn't see. "Like you could. Don't run over any old people on the way."

"No promises." And then the line went dead.

The doctor, now satisfied that I had someone to take care of me, told me that he would let the nurses know to let him in. The professional then left and I was alone, surrounded by white and pale, washed out blue. I ran my hands over the paper, listening to the crinkling. Would I become like this room? Pale, washed out, stuck in one place to be used and forgotten? Would I become like the paper I now sat upon? To be thrown away without a second thought?

Hospitals were not good for my health. They made me depressed and introspective. I also had a constant urge run through the halls splattering random colors of paint across the walls.

"Hey Jay-bird, what's wrong?"

I jumped and swore, swiping at Clint. I hadn't heard him, but I rarely did. I noticed he had brought Natasha and gave her a small smile and she nodded back. They were the first to hear the doctor comeback, but had positioned themselves in a way that they would be able to easily defend me if needed.

The doctor walked in and blinked at the two new occupants. He composed himself quickly and extended a hand. "Hello, I am Doctor Carter."

"Clint Barton," Hawkeye shook Doctor Carter's hand briefly, "this is Natalie Rodeman. We're coworkers of Skygge's. What's the problem?"

I saw the doctor's eyes narrow at Clint's choice of words, but continued on. "Skygge has been diagnosed with chronic myelogenous leukemia. We've called in a specialist, but she won't be here until next week. In the meantime I've prescribed Gleevec and several pain medications of varying strength. She is to take the Gleevec every four hours, two at a time. The pain medications are to be used as needed; no more than two and no less than six hours between doses."

As Doctor Carter continued to talk, I tuned out and watched Natasha and Clint's reaction to the news. Natasha was still, per usual, but there was a stiffness, a tightness, to her stance. Her eyes flashed with pain and her lips slimmed slightly. Clint had crossed his arms, his hands clenched into fists. His eyes were dark and a muscle jumped in his jaw. He had probably already guessed that I was planning to keep it to myself and was angry.

"Come on, Jay-bird, time to leave." Clint grasped my arm, gentler than normal but still firm. He guided me out of the hospital, Natasha following behind. I looked at the walls, those thrice-damned white walls.

I sigh and quirk my lips into a smile remembering the lecture Clint had given me. I swallow the pills dry; scrunching my face at the taste I walk to the door where my two polka-dotted suitcases and laptop backpack rest. "JARVIS, tell anyone who asks that I'm visiting my mother. If Clint or Natasha ask, tell them away from everyone else that I'm going to the hospital in Texas."

"Very well, Miss Kaburi. Is there anything else?"

I swallow, my throat suddenly dry. "No, that's it. Bye, JARVIS."

"Goodbye, Miss Kaburi. It has been a pleasure to know you."

"You too, JARVIS." I open the door and place my backpack on my shoulders, grabbing the handles of my suitcases.

"Miss Kaburi, if I might make a suggestion?"

"Go ahead, JARVIS."

"Telling them now would be easier than them finding you gone with no knowledge of where you are or what has happened."

I close my eyes, feeling tears slipping down my face. "I know," I whisper, my voice cracking. "I know, but I'm a coward. I need to get away. I'm sorry." I then close the door behind me and walk to the cab waiting outside the gates.

As the driver helps me load my bags, he looks at me. "Ya okay there, lassie? No' in any trouble are ya?"

I smile at him and wipe my cheeks. "No, just a little sad to leave. But, I hope Texas will be fun."

He grins widely at me and helps me into the cab before getting in himself. "Oh, aye, ya be havin' fun in Texas. Ya be a mite warmer there too."

"Possibly." As the cabbie continues to talk, his Irish accent making itself very pronounced, I close my eyes and lean against the window.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, "but I need to do something."

I have no idea how to feel

There was a point in time

A time so far behind me

That I could feel

That I knew how to smile when I was happy

How to cry when I was sad

How to shout when I was angry

Ask questions when I was confused

Be gentle when I cared

But it is all gone

I don't know when this happened

I don't know how

I woke up and felt my sheets against my legs

Felt my necklace pressing against my chest

Felt my dog bear down on my legs while he slept

I sat up slightly and looked at him expecting to care

Expecting to feel

But there was nothing

I reached for my emotions but found nothing

If I could have panicked

I would have

My only thought was

What have I done?