So this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, I figured I'd cut you guys some reading slack, also I've been away these past few days so I threw this together a bit quickly just for something to put up so I hope that in my rush things didn't get too messed up.

Enjoy :)

Noah Corcoran – April 2001

He isn't sick.

He isn't sick, at least, not like his sister is anyway. But the fact that he is stuck inside of the hospital allows Noah to conclude that he might as well be.

He is alone, stuck in complete solitude as he curls into the fetal position, testing every position possible to ease the dull pain that radiates across his hipbone and up through his very spine.

The mattress that he lays in is lumpy and uncomfortable; he has quickly found that hospital beds are nowhere near as fun here as they were in Rachel's room… Maybe this is because when he's laying inside of Rachel's bed, he actually has the option of getting back out again whenever it is that he wants to.

Everywhere around him is dully lit, freezing cold and entirely unfamiliar… In a place like this, it is easy for him to believe that he is the last human being in the entirety of the world still alive… Who knew, maybe he is. Maybe, in the hour or so that he had been fast asleep in surgery for, there had been some sort of global catastrophe, a massive apocalypse, and he had missed out on its effects solely for the idea that he had been sleeping.

It seems like a silly idea, but at the same time the only plausible explanation that he can conclude as to why his mother had yet to come and visit him… Although it seems more likely – Noah tells himself – that she is probably just with Rachel.

For the briefest of blissful seconds, Noah finds himself half expecting his father to walk through the door, to greet him, to ask him how he is feeling, to try and make him laugh as to forget about the pain as Hiram had always done when Noah had fallen ill…

The reminder that Hiram was not coming back, that he would not be visiting Noah that he was dead and buried serves as an even deeper pain than even the physical.

It has already been one month… Well, one month and four days, if you wanted to get technical, but still, Noah finds himself waiting for his father every single second of every single day… He still expects Hiram's car to pull up inside of its usual spot in the driveway. He still expects him to walk through the front door clad in a pair of light blue scrubs, fresh from a day's work. He still expects his father to be on call to play with him, to take his mind off of things when the going got tough… a tactic that they could all use every now and then.

Noah turns over carefully inside of his bed, double checking as if to ensure that Shelby is not present in the doorway although he isn't entirely sure why he even bothered… He has already been awake over an hour, and at this point, he can't even be certain that Shelby even knew… or cared.

He crawls towards the corner of his bed, chooses to ignore the searing pain that his every motion brings as he grabs at the small duffel that his mother had helped him pack a mere night before, digging through its contents only briefly before his tiny fingers grasp about the fabric of one of his father's old t-shirts; the one that he had managed to tuck away inside of his bag the moment that he was certain that Shelby was no longer looking.

It had been a quick exchange, remarkably reminiscent of his recent growth in devious behavior… He had stolen the polo directly out from under Shelby's nose just as she had begun going through the motions of cleaning his belongings from their home, not a week after the funeral…

Noah had put up a fight against the action, of course he had. He simply could not understand why it was that Shelby would choose to throw out the last remaining relics that they had of his father… Even still, he can't.

The old shirt sags down to his ankles every time he drapes it about his head, its hem barely raised so much as an inch off of the ground… Hiram had never been a remarkably tall man, of course, but Noah had barely just turned seven; he was nothing close to a giant quite yet either.

The cotton shines a bright blue, the kind that positively reflects off of a nice glare of the sun, the kind that had matched his father's ocean eyes to the exact, making them shine, if possible, even more… Noah had a history of insisting that his father wear the polo too all of his little league matches, that way, Noah would always be able to spot him in the crowd…

Wearing that shirt, Noah had used to been able to spot Hiram out in the parking lot all the way from home plate, but the second that he had walked directly past Shelby with the fabric hanging loosely about his thin shoulders, he had made it to safety without her even noticing.

It would not be the first time that Noah had ever wondered, whether or not he is turning into a mere ghost.

Crawling back against his mattress, he curls the fabric into a ball beneath his palms, clutching until his knuckles turn white as he holds the shirt directly under his nose and makes a habit out of inhaling.

Hiram's scent flutters through his nostrils, but still, it has been a long time… The last lingering memory that Noah has collected of his father is rapidly becoming overshadowed by the natural process of wear and tear…

The fresh scent of Hiram's signature cologne is rapidly giving way to the musky collection of mildew, pent up from the hiding space in the back of Noah's closet, the potent aroma of sweat; a result of having been caught beneath a collection of Noah's used football gear.

Everything, it seems that Noah is reaching for, is rapidly falling just out of his reach. It is a result, it seems, that is starting to become typical.

Noah's head begins spinning with an overwhelming desire, his heart aching with yearning… Quickly, Noah Corcoran is starting to learn that when you lose a person that you love, it does not happen all at once but in small, fragmented pieces… In a way, this only makes things harder, and the word mourning, he's found out, doesn't always have to refer solely to a time of the day.

Like Noah said, he isn't sick but he might as well be.

According to his mother, her and his father had passed along to Noah, something much more valuable than an empty hospital room and a lingering stench against a used old shirt…

You see, what they have given to Noah that was inside of their son, as it turns out was exactly the same thing that they had given to Rachel that was inside of her as well.

Noah had thought it silly at the time. He had learned in school that everybody has the same insides; a heart, a brain, two lungs and that sort of thing… But eventually, by the way that Shelby had described it to him Noah had found out that while everybody did have all of those sorts of things, they also had something else, something that was critical to Rachel's case – they had different types of those things.

Except for him and Rachel who were exactly the same; and somehow, this concept was exactly what was going to make Rachel better again.

Noah finds the entire thing to be remarkably bizarre; the idea that one day very soon, there will be a piece of him, buried and multiplying deep within his sister's veins.

Initially, he had found himself humored with the idea, taunting Rachel by informing her that once the transplant occurred, she would turn into him completely; she would start acting like him, dressing like him, hell, she would even morph into him until the two were identical.

It had taken Shelby an entire hour to calm a hysterical Rachel, who had quickly decided that she no longer wanted to go through with the transplant simply for fear that she would turn into her brother.

Noah had been sent immediately into timeout, a furious Shelby banishing him into the hallway throughout the entirety of her attempts to wrestle with her sobbing daughter as she struggled to convince Rachel that a bone marrow transplant would not really change who she was on the outside.

His mother had sent him into solitary in order to think about his actions and their subsequent consequences, and the more that he actually did think about them, the more Noah realized just how much he would miss his sister should this transplant actually change her in the manner that Noah teased that it would.

He had watched from his position across the hallway as Rachel wailed; flailing her arms about, resisting comfort even from the arms that she has long since deemed the safest…

Shivers had wracked his body with a sudden force that had nearly knocked him over. He'd felt as though a gust of cold win had rained down the length of the hospital, burning through his body leaving him restless, unsettled as his face contorts with the realization towards the root of the very center of all of his fears -

That Noah simply couldn't stand the thought of losing his sister in any capacity.

"Noah, can you come here for a minute?"

The boy hesitates naturally before risking a handful of steps forwards but even still, he finds himself lingering against the corner that separates the open hallway from the cramped, private waiting room that his mother is currently taking up residence inside of… Noah has learned not to trust confined spaces; he clutches the drywall tightly, as if this could ever possibly save him from what it was that his mother had to say.

It just seemed as though as of late, the only time that Shelby ever opened her mouth was to deliver more bad news.

Noah pretends as if he hadn't heard the tears; his mother crying water droplets that could fill oceans as she spoke with Dr. McCarthy for the past hour or so; Rachel sleeping blissfully inside of her lap, the drugs flooding through her system ensured that she remained peacefully ignorant…

He pretends as if he hasn't been watching the clock with a careful accuracy, he pretends as if he doesn't know that their diminished family now as approximately fourteen minutes left to arrive at their father's funeral before they instead miss it in its entirety.

They had been halfway out the door before they'd been called back; an event, it seems, that has grown rather typical these past few weeks… months, even.

Shelby had sent Noah into the hallway to play nearly an hour ago, but still wearing the black suit that he intends to wear to his father's funeral should they ever actually arrive, something inside of the obedient depths of his mind tells him that he should not be getting dirty.

For the first time in his young life, Noah avoids playtime, and instead sits diligently inside of the uncomfortable, orange plastic chairs that align the designated waiting section of the hallways… It had been obvious at the time that she had not wanted him to hear the conversation that she was about to have… It was obvious now that she was still unsure as to whether or not she wanted him present.

Noah had spent the last hour dangling his legs, swinging him gently as he silently wonders whether or not Shelby is discussing their father's fate with the doctor before her… It is the only explanation that Noah can think of as to why Shelby would be so upset… Either that or somebody else has died.

He breathes deeply as he eyes Shelby, just waiting for her to speak… He had spent the last hour silently wondering what it was that his mother was discussing, but now that the opportunity has arisen, he isn't so sure that he wants to find out… This is all too real, and Noah is well aware of the idea that he has been torn from his prime age to bask fondly in the practice of blissful ignorance much too soon.

Noah Corcoran is tired of pretending, but still, he finds himself pretending not to notice that his mother's hands are shaking as she grasps him by his thin shoulders and guides him towards one of the couches at the far corner of the room.

Shelby strategically makes a journey out of ensuring her own comfortability as well; designated as much time as humanly possible to seat herself besides her son, toying with her own two hands for a period so lengthy, that Noah is practically hypnotized before finally, Shelby finds it in herself to turn her head upwards and speak.

"Noah, do you remember when me and your dad…" She forces herself to pause already, swallowing heavily… Her eyes are forced to a close at the mere reminder of Hiram. Noah is all but forced to look away, just so that he wouldn't have to see his mother cry anymore. "Do you remember right after Rachel got sick, when I explained to you what was wrong with your sister? I know that I said a lot of big words that day, but do you remember me telling you that one day, Rachel might need something called a bone marrow transplant to help make her better again?"

Noah nods his head but the truth is that his eyes remain clueless… His attempts towards proving his competence to his mother are shadowed by mere vague memories that date back to the day of Rachel's diagnosis; the large majority of them clouded in sadness, with nothing even close to a logical explanation towards why it was that God had to chose them to let all of his anger out on.

"Bone marrow, it… it helps to make new blood in your body, but Rachel's bone marrow, it isn't working right… That's why she has cancer." Shelby immediately notices the lack of recognition behind her son's brown eyes. She offers her best attempts towards an explanation, desperate to sugarcoat the words in a manner that a seven year old could understand, but even Noah can tell that she's struggling. "What might make Rachel better again is to take somebody else's bone marrow out of them – somebody who is healthy, and who's body can make normal cells – and to put it inside of Rachel's body."

"But won't the person who gives Rachel their bone marrow need theirs?" His confusion is apparent, yet sill entirely expected… The concept of taking out a piece of your body and placing it into somebody else's is simply one that is much too foreign for a seven year old to understand… Noah finds that it sounds strangely like a scenario from one of those superhero cartoons he likes to watch on the rare Saturday morning that Rachel is not hogging the television.

"A healthy person can make more when they need it." Shelby explains gently through a sad smile, her patience profound and written clear across her eyes as she pauses briefly, her face contorting in a manner that makes it clear, just how hard she is trying to determine the best manner by which to approach this, "Rachel… she can't quite do that. That's why she's gonna need a little bit of help."

"Are you gonna give Rachel your bone marrow, momma?"

"No sweetie, I can't…" Her eyes sink; darkening with a deep storm cloud that reflects straight inside of Noah's heart… He can practically feel her regret, her sadness towards this notion seep straight out of her lungs and into his own. "You see Noah, in order to give somebody your bone marrow you need to make sure that the two people have the same type of it first… Most people don't have the same type, and if Rachel gets some that is not the same kind as hers it can make her very, very sick."

"Even more sick than she is right now?" Noah believes this feat to be impossible. He can't possibly imagine a situation in which anybody could be sicker than Rachel was right now without them being sent straight up to heaven with his dad.

"Yes Noah," Shelby confirms the idea that you can indeed be even sicker. That you can be much, much sicker… The idea alone leaves the small boy shivering with discomfort. It is bad enough having to see Rachel in the state that she is in right now. He doesn't even want to imagine what it might be like should she get even sicker than she already is, "Even more sick."

"Can I give her my bone marrow, momma?" The idea pops inside of his head with a sudden, unexpected force. It is a sweeping decision that seems obvious and logical enough… If his mother can't save Rachel, than wouldn't her big brother be the second best option?

"That's what the doctor's hope buddy…" His heart lifts with hope, a broad smile clearing across the length of his face… He was going to be his sister's hero; just like he had promised straight from the very beginning. "You see, because you get what type of bone marrow that you have from both your mom and your dad, there's a chance that you and Rachel might be a match… that you might be Rachel's only match."

"What happens if I'm not? What happens if Rachel doesn't get it?" The idea scares him; he has the strangest feeling that he already knows the answer, but for some reason, he needs to hear his mother say it anyway. "Will she go to heaven with daddy?"

"She might." Tears spring inside of Shelby's eyes once more. Noah feels terribly right away, regretting his decision to commit to this question so heatedly, knowing full well its repercussions.

"I don't want Rachel to leave." Noah takes a stab at redeeming himself, confirming that he truly does enjoy his sister's presence, trying to make his mother smile alongside the idea that although he may pick on her sometimes, he didn't have to look far to realize that he truly does love his little sister…

"Me neither, buddy…" Shelby assures him, and inside of her eyes, Noah can see the same exact thing that he is thinking; that the prospects of living in a life without either his father, or Rachel seemed pretty grim, "Me neither.

In the end, it takes three nurses to hold him down as the doctor struggles to find a space in which Noah will sit still long enough to slide the needle inside of his veins with the precision necessary to collect his blood… or more specifically, the precious cells that are contained within it.

They are already expecting not to pull enough of a sample into the first tube. They're halfway to sedating the boy simply to get him to sit still long enough to collect what is necessary, when Noah manages a glimpse past all of the white coats and scrubs…

Rachel is sitting in a large chair in the corner of the exam room. Her scrawny legs are bent into an awkward pretzel that fully demonstrates her impressive flexibility. Her bald head shines beneath fluorescent lighting. Half of her face is concealed by a protective surgical mask designed to prevent any infection that is much bigger than she currently is from entering her system; Noah cannot see her mouth, but still, he manages to catch it from inside of her eyes.

Slowly, it begins to build until eventually, he finds himself able to hear it as well… Rachel is laughing.

A broad giggle that seems to originate from the very pit of her stomach, the sound strikes Noah like a slap across the face in the reminder that he hasn't heard his sister laugh like this in months… She is comically amused by Noah's pain, simply for the fact that this time around, it finally isn't her for a change.

Noah is well aware that at this point, Rachel could sit through a procedure five times more painful than this without feeling so much as a thing.

He finds it suddenly much more difficult to feel badly for himself. This time, he doesn't even notice when the needle breaks through the barricade of his skin, and the doctors collect everything that they need to determine whether or not Noah was capable of becoming Rachel's saving grace.

He doesn't understand it in its entirety.

Sure, there were a lot of things around here that a boy of his age couldn't, and probably shouldn't possibly understand… Experience has taught Noah a lot about those very things but this… well this made absolutely no sense.

The continuous confusion that lingered inside of his mother's eyes as doctor's flip flopped relentlessly as to how to go about this procedure proves to Noah that even with age, he may never fully understand the idea that the second he'd submitted his blood, he had inadvertently and permanently proven his being Rachel's perfect chromosomal match…

It had a been a one in four chance, 25% - or so everybody said – that him and Rachel would be identical in this manner; two perfectly histocompatible HLA matches… To Noah, these odds seemed decent enough; of course, everybody else knew that the consequences were much too steep to gamble.

It is almost as if while Rachel was being made, that some entity from way up above that had stricken her down into this poor, defenseless body had anticipated this moment, had ensured that while they would provide Rachel with the faulty genes that would make her sick in the first place, they would also ensure that she would be granted an older brother, completely capable of stepping in to become her genetic savior.

Noah justifies his current, devious plan with the idea that it was at least nice for him to have been born for a purpose; to have something, anything to mark this world at all…

He is young; Noah knows this better than anybody else, but still, that doesn't mean that he isn't observant, it doesn't mean that he doesn't notice all of the other families; parents of young kids who look at their children with nothing but regret, treating them like crap simply because they hadn't been careful enough not to bring a human being that they didn't want into their sole care and custody.

Noah is not an idiot. He knows that there are a lot of people out there that think he is, but he isn't.

It had been him – much to his mother's horror – that had explained to a very confused three year old Rachel exactly how it was that babies were produced and born, including herself… Noah still has the marks on his bottom from the spanking that he had received from his father that night. He can still recall his mother sitting in the corner trembling her thanks that at least Rachel was still too young to understand what it was that she had just heard.

People tended not to underestimate the Corcoran children anymore. But suddenly, Noah finds himself wishing that he could have a purpose larger than simply to give body parts to his sister when hers stopped working properly.

The outcome as a whole was starting to appear pretty bleak for them all.

The second that Noah shoots upwards inside of his bed and rips the IV line straight from the back of his right hand in an effort to achieve a higher state of mobility, he immediately begins to wonder why it was that he didn't think of this sooner.

His bones ache and groan in protest as he maneuvers himself carefully around the protective bedrails currently attempting to die him down to his room; the growth hormone injections that he has been receiving for weeks now in an effort to boost his stem cell count rearing their ugly head in the reminder of everything that he has since been forced to give up in the name of his family.

The young child has since mapped the entirety of the blueprint of Lima Memorial Hospital into the very center of his brain. He knows the rough sketch of its interior better than he knows the back of his own hand… When he leaves to make his journey towards Rachel's hospital room, he finds that he is able to do so with a relative ease.

His feet stomp aggressively as he moves, taking as discrete a path as humanly possible as to not arouse too many suspicions as to why a child was travelling alone throughout the hospital wearing nothing but a hospital gown, sporting a bandaged hip and a bleeding hand from where his IV port used to be.

His arrival outside of Rachel's room is met with little to no interference. His intentions seem clear, their obviousness written across his face. He is going to give his mother a piece of his mind for her apparent abandonment of him, and he was going to show absolutely no mercy.

The words are half out of his mouth when they are forced abruptly back down his very throat.

People had a strong tendency to keep Noah in the dark about most things… They have a tendency to falsely assume that he can't handle them, that he was too young to hear such a thing when the reality of the matter is that he had been forced to grow up months ago now.

Noah can tell that things are bad the second that he spots his Uncle Ephraim… Judging by the fact that he only ever sees his uncle either during every other holiday or in the midst of a tragedy, he deduces that seeing as how Passover isn't for another three weeks, tragedy is the only option.

Besides his distant uncle, Noah gradually begins to pinpoint various family; his grandparents, Aunt Krista, his Uncle Ephraim's wife who he doesn't even know well enough to remember her name, let alone address her as his aunt, and their children; three young cousins that he's never even met.

For the briefest of moments this makes Noah, if anything, more enraged towards the idea that nobody has so much as considered coming to his aid in order to see how he was faring post surgery; but the feeling is only momentary.

Eventually, his eyes manage to latch onto his mother's form; and with this vision, he feels an iron fist clasp in a vice grip about his stomach.

Technically, Noah hears Shelby before he actually sees her… She's speaking animatedly, talking with hands as her sad, tired eyes drain with desperation. She's speaking in the far corner of the room with Rachel's doctor. His initial thought is only amplified.

This is bad.

He doesn't manage to catch ever word that Shelby is speaking, only brief segments, interludes in which he manages to catch both his own name as well as Rachel's… The second that he hears the phrase last chance emit from her mouth, Noah knows that she must be talking about the upcoming transplant.

Tears of rage sting at the corners of his eyes all over again. He finds his profound anger refueled against his temporary setback of confusion, rage building inside of his skull in a manner that leaves his head throbbing and begins to frighten even him…

The thing is that his mother is right there in the physical, but mentally she seems so far away… She is standing directly across from him. He is staring at her clear on; a perfect picture that he knows she could reciprocate should she simply choose too…

Yet still, she doesn't seem to notice; she never does these days.

His mother does not seem to understand that today; Rachel is not the only one of her children trapped inside of a hospital.

"Are you sure that this is necessary?" An additional handful of steps forward gives Noah a clearer picture of the conversation currently blooming between his mother and Rachel's doctor. He grasps onto the heavy metal frame lining the doorway of Rachel's hospital room, peers inside and finds that it's easier to pretend that he is a ghost.

Shelby bites nervously at her fingernails; chewed down to the quick already, Noah watches as tiny amounts of blood leak from the tips of her fingers; Noah grimaces, but Shelby doesn't seem to notice.

"Noah has already gone through so much I don't want him to have to go through anymore pain." The boy's eyebrows arch with confusion… At least Shelby was finally recognizing the plight that the boy had taken to get to this point. At least she still remembers that she has a son to defend, and not just a daughter.

"Shelby, I know that you're upset but the fact of the matter is that things like this have a tendency to happen sometimes… We simply did not get nearly as many viable stem cells from the harvest as we wanted to… or needed to. There is no way around putting Noah under again and going back in. This is necessary Shelby." Noah gulps subconsciously in his fear towards the doctor's words… His hands snake subconsciously against his lower back, rubbing against the bandage attempting and failing to confine the pain still radiating from the first time that he had been put under… And now they wanted to do it again? "This is out last option, Shelby. I know that this is going to sound blunt, but without this transplant, Rachel is going to die."

Noah's eyes catch the sudden movement as Rachel's eyes snap upwards in response to the sound of her name… Her face doesn't change with the mention of her seeming guaranteed death… At this point, his sister is so used to casual conversation regarding her assumed fate that it probably no longer even fazes her.

She is draped inside of blankets that are twice her size. Toys surround her at ever corner; attempted figurines of distraction, no doubt planted there by their family in an effort to occupy her mind… The intended play things remain untouched. Rachel is simply much too sick, much too tired to be bothered with such trivialities.

Instead she simply lays there, reminding everybody in her submission, that she is no longer the child that she was a five months ago.

It takes mere seconds for her eyes to meet with his own. Rachel spots her brother, staring up towards him looking sunken, forlorn, defeated… Her lips tilt softly upwards. It takes every ounce of energy that the young girl still has left inside of her to commit to this motion – Noah can tell this much – but still, it lingers, and if Rachel can put in the effort than well, so can he.

He reciprocates her actions almost immediately; he smiles because he is finally starting to realize the price of his own pain, the consequences of his fear; that without Rachel, it is hard for him to remember who he is.

He smiles because it is nice to finally be reminded that he is not the only person out there in this wide, vast, and sometimes terrifying universe.

He smiles, because he has finally found the only person who ever seems to notice that he's even there.