Personal opinion, I think Stuart and Carol's good qualities as parents are underlooked in the fanfic world. That's why I prefer to highlight them here. Of course, still keep them in character. That doesn't mean making them shit parents though.

. . .

. .

.

With homework done and chores cleared, it was about time Kyle reconciled with a late afternoon in front of the TV. The house had been pretty quiet since he got home and his mother asked that he do a few things in between her being upstairs with Ike. His dad was still at the firm, so having the living room to himself wasn't a half-bad option.

He watched another re-run of a Terrance and Phillip episode he'd seen one too many times. Subconsciously mumbling the jokes against his lips along with it as the television blared and he sought to think of something else to watch if it was just gonna show the same episodes as last week. Small sounds of a wet cough coming from upstairs hummed underneath the show that Kyle paid mild to no attention to. After a few more minutes of back and forth coughing, Sheila made her way down the staircase leading to the living area, holding an exhausted Ike in her arms that rested his head against her shoulder, thumb firmly in his mouth. Her eldest son turned down to volume in seeing her looking to ask something.

"Kyle?" She said, soothing a suddenly quiet Ike. "I need to run out with Ike quickly. Are you okay by yourself for a few minutes?"

His eyes stayed glued to the screen. "Yeah, mom. Why?"

"Ike has a cold."

Oof, sucks. Kyle just hoped least of all he'd catch it. He distanced himself on the couch as his mother passed by with the sick toddler. Sheila reached for her sling purse by the doorway and looked back at him. Ike coughed openly and Kyle pinched his features in avoidance.

She kept a comforting arm around Ike as she adjusted her purse. "We ran out of his medicine, I should be quick."

Ike coughed a wet one again, and Kyle was quick to look. His baby brother was particularly more pale than he already was and had red blushing around his itty-bitty nose that he sniffled from every half second in stuffiness. He looked just about energized as Cartman after gym class. Ike looked barely like his giggly and chatty self in his current state as he stared at his older brother with woeful and unplayful eyes.

Within months passed, Kyle couldn't help but know where he's seen a look like that before. Desperate for a breath of fresh air from the confines of a sick body. He hadn't necessarily had the thought too much of Kenny's recovery on his mind, except when around him only. But the puffiness in Ike's eyes just completely reminded him of the frequent hospital visits and the smell of medicine and desperation in the air whenever around Kenny.

Part of the time Kyle wondered with how much Kenny had already been through if it wasn't too late for another dip. Never could he make this known at all of course. He'd probably give Kenny or his family a heart attack for addressing such a notion. Kyle didn't even want to think about it. Seeing Kenny sick once though definitely made Kyle hyperaware of illness and its effects. Seeing his brother so out of it just as Kenny didn't sit well in his suddenly queasy stomach.

After having a big scare once, it worried Kyle easily. "Is he okay?"

"He'll be fine, we just ran out of the kid's kind. We'll be back quickly."

"Can I walk to Stan's for the group project?"

"Only after I get home." Sheila insisted, Kyle seeing no point in denying. He laid back against the couch with a small brainstorm cloud brewing over his head. Contemplating stopping his mother in her tracks as he wanted to question one of the many things brought on his mind.

"Ma?"

"Yes?"

Perplexion tangled Kyle's face, before bluntly asking; "Can symptoms for something get worst again after already facing its worst?"

Sheila blinked. "I'm not sure, bubby. I guess it depends. Why?"

There goes that answer. "Nothing."

"You call in case of an emergency, remember?"

"Yeah, ma."

Under the radiant light of the doctor's office, Kenny sat atop the crinkly paper of the doctor's table in the neurologist's examination room. A pale older man with a greying mustache and round glasses who had been nothing but wonderful in Kenny's treatment since his diagnosis. He examined Kenny's pharynx with a wooden presser holding down his tongue after a physical test of his weaker muscles and his one-hour session with his physical therapist. Carol sat in the corner, having come to witness the regular examinations.

"Alright, Kenny. Good job." Dr. Kent removed the presser and went to throw it in the trash as he removed his rubber gloves. He reached for his examination notes as Kenny smacked his mouth quietly from the aftertaste, pulling his hood over his mouth again where he liked it rested.

Carol got up from her seat as the doctor tapped his pen against the clipboard's borders. "His ribs aren't as bothersome, his walking is fine for the most part. I'd like to keep a watchful eye on his chest activity though."

Carol ringed one wrist in her other hand. "What'll that involve..?"

"I'd recommend an increase in his medication intake." The doctor discussed. "An Emflaza increase to eighteen milligrams. We'd give half that increase by the pill so he can take one with breakfast and one before bed. A little way down the line we might give him a heart-rate monitor for testing."

"What for?"

"Just procedure when he gets used to his new dosage. We'd like to measure his heart rate over twenty-four hours."

Kenny swung his legs gently from the examination table. How badly would a heart monitor stand out if he had to wear that thing all day? He'd look like a walking bomb strolling through school.

"I'd like to ask you just a few more questions, Kenny. Just to make sure increasing your medicine is okay."

Kenny shuffled on his bottom to face his doctor. It couldn't be any different than the billions of questions he'd been asked since the beginning.

"Would you like your mom to stay? She can leave if you'd rather."

Kenny's brow scrunched. That option had never been given before. "She can stay."

Carol stayed quietly behind as Dr. Kent nodded. "Do you ever feel a little sad sometimes?"

He blinked, expecting the question to have been muscle or pain-related. "I guess."

"Do you have more sad days than happy days, you think?"

Letting the answer roll in his mind, his eyes flicked to his mom once and he shrugged. "I don't think so."

The doctor flipped a note. "Do you sometimes think waking up isn't as easy?"

Seeing as the doctor was treading different waters, Kenny at least tried to give considerable answers. "I mean it sometimes hurts."

"Do you ever have bad thoughts that make you want to stay in bed?"

"I don't think so." Kenny considered. "Not then."

Dr. Kent paid forward in his attention. "Can you tell me when?"

"During the day. Sometimes at school."

"In class? With your friends?"

"Yeah, I guess," he responded. Seeing the doctor wait on more detail, Kenny shuffled in his seat. "Like, at random times I feel kinda not the same. Like before I had it."

"What d'you feel when you feel like that?"

"Weird."

Seeing his patient's confusion in the questions, the doctor addressed both Carol and Kenny. "It's worth it for us and other doctors to ask on occasion. Just to make sure we don't interfere with how he's getting along well with the dosage."

Carol lulled over it. "Can the increase be bad?"

"The medication intake can often have psychological effects. Have we started those counseling sessions yet?"

"Counseling sessions?" Kenny questioned.

The doctor looked over the boy's head to Carol, who looked at her son. "Kenny, your dad and I have been talkin' we think it'd be good if you start doing counseling at school once a week."

Slight worrisome creased Kenny's brow. "Mr. Mackey..?"

"It'll be good for you to talk about this stuff an' all."

"See Kenny, what causes us pain in our body can sometimes make us feel a lot of sad feelings," the doctor sugarcoated, much to the boy's weariness. "While the doctors here are taking care of your medicine and all else, we want to make sure a different kind of person is also helping you."

Yeesh, he might as well say it while shitting out rainbows. Kenny didn't want to say he disagreed necessarily, although the thought of Mackey trynna get him to search in on his feelings about a stupid illness seemed draining.

Then again he wasn't denying any shit feelings...but...

"Could we have that new dosage ready at the pharmacy today?" Carol asked. "I already have one for myself to pick up, it would make it a lil' easier."

No idea what that could be for, Kenny faced his mom questionably.

"I'll have a message sent with the prescription. They should let you know when it'll be ready, if not by then."

Carol shrugged her sweater over her shoulders. "'Aight. That should be fine, thanks."

Dr. Kent turned to Kenny with a wink. "Luckily, it should be ready. We get special advantages in our cases."

Kenny gave him a humored smile. He least of all owed it to one of the many people that saved his life.

Carol entered the buzz of the drugstore with her middle child walking along her side. Her goal was set on making their way to the drug counter at the back of the store as Kenny's eyes wandered all about the unbusied pharmacy. The surroundings made him somewhat bored as its white tile flooring and plaster walls were no different from every doctor appointment and hour spent in the hospital. He was really starting to get sick of fluorescent lighting.

His mother wandered down a center aisle with Kenny coming along all the same in every dosage they'd had to pick up since he was put on it. Even if only his second scheduled dosage of over a month, they kept coming for other remedies needed for helping him. He wandered along the familiar shelves to see if any products were changed in the time being. Come here often enough and you'd start to memorize everything. Off the shelf medicine, vitamins, feminine products he didn't know how or why they were used. Even some out-of-place shampoo that was supposed to be stocked in the next aisle. Huh, someone was losing their job today.

Kenny dragged his fingers along a lower shelf at his height stocked with packs of wrap bandage tape. Lost in slight distraction as Carol edged to the back of the lineup at the drug counter and her son stayed on her tail.

"Mom, I need to go to Stan's." Kenny reminded in priority of their project due tomorrow.

"Hold up, Kenny. This will only take a sec."

He looked at the line. While only two people were ahead of them, pharmacists sure enjoyed taking their time as slow as humanly possible. Kenny edged along with a slight impatient slump in his step as the one customer in front paid for their prescription and went along their way. One man was left in front of Carol as she drummed her fingers in distraction and Kenny happened to look her way from his right.

What kinda dosage could she be on? Something maybe not serious enough to have been brought up in front of him. Or maybe she'd think he just wouldn't pay attention to detail as most parents thought of their kids. As they shuffled up the line and Carol began talking to the pharmacist, he lulled on the thought as the woman in a white coat came back around with a baggy and a stapled prescription.

"We've got Emflaza, eighteen milligrams. Was that all?"

"Another under Carol McCormick?"

The lady went off, taking her time as Kenny tried peering over the counter out of his mother's vision. But what the hell would he be able to tell when the bottles all looked the same?

The pharmacist came back around, placing down the second baggy. "Prozac, antidepressants?"

The fucking what, now?

Kenny remained baffled. He looked to his mother who nodded in confirmation though her eyes looked at the price with slight hesitance.

Maybe people forgot, yet for all the times Kenny wasn't saying something, he still saw everything. He observed things and picked up on things in a way where he liked to think he was good at reading people. His mother was no exception. Kenny didn't remember her ever getting such a dosage, and couldn't help but wonder if it was a separate issue or had something to do with his own.

Polishing off a beer, Stuart indulged in some paper spread at the front of the bar where he sat in a dead night at Skeeter's. Looking over some offered work hours down at the track and attempting to split his time with some discussion of maybe getting full-time at the tow shop where he used to help his old man out. A potential promise and something he'd neither mentioned to his wife nor anyone yet. Purely out of a superstition Stuart didn't want to admit he of all people had.

Skeeter came with another requested glass. "You drivin'? I'll know to cut you off when."

Stuart flipped over a page. "My wife's got the truck, I'll bus it."

Skeeter agreed nonchalantly, going off to continue managing the bar. Two more came through the front amongst the unoccupied night and immediately recognized Stuart by the mere back of his head. "Hey, Stuart."

Gerald and Randy took an instant seat next to him at the bar. "Hey, fellas. You too?"

Randy waved off a hand. "Only night we both got off the same time this week." He nodded to Skeeter passing by. "Hey, Skeeter. Two beers on my tab."

"You got it," the bartender agreed. "Glad ya showed up, might do mister paperwork here some good." He jerked a thumb to Stuart pushing away a paper out of the unfocus in his eyes from looking at them for too long.

"Work or something?" Randy asked.

"Something," Stuart agreed vacantly. "Long day for ya'll?"

"Just catching up." Gerald said. "How've you been?"

"Can't complain, really." Stuart said. "Steady pace. Drives me crazy sometimes but not about to shit all over."

"How're Carol and the kids?"

The bartender came around with the two's first round as Stuart nodded lightly. "She's been doin' better, thank god. I think any more an' the kids woulda started to notice."

"What matters, right?"

"Yeh. Least for Karen." Stuart agreed with a sip of beer. "Kev' boy we're trynna make sure he's doin' stuff outta the house to not be so worried or nothin'."

It was brewing to be asked, and Stuart could sense it coming from Gerald; "Kenny?"

He cupped his beer glass. "I guess as good as it gets, right now."

Randy shrugged his brows, picking up his glass. "Hard to tell with the little bastards."

"Hard with my boy. Kid keeps it all quiet."

Gerald snorted against a sip of beer. "Sounds familiar, huh McCormick?"

"Eh, he's nothin' like me." Stuart took a swig, meaning that in a good way.

"Don't kid yourself too much," Gerald poked. "You weren't much different."

"At least the boy has some sense in his brain." Before he muttered, "sometimes."

"Figures. Get's it from the other half of the family." Randy quipped. Stuart and Gerald chuckled along with Marsh's smartass statement. "Hard to have seen that coming."

"Ah, shut up."

Skeeter emerged from the back's quarters, firmly wiping down the last of a glass. "Anything else I can do ya for, Stuart?"

Figuring he'd need to get home, Stuart denied it. "Nah, cut off my tab there will ya?"

"You got it."

Skeeter walked off and Gerald lifted his beer, elbows firmly on the bar surface. "Coordinating the car's twice as hard when you add the kids, huh?"

"Tell me 'bout it." Stuart said, padding down his needed payment against the bar top. "Carol's been out with Kenny since school to handle everythin'."

Gerald nudged him. "We've been there, Stuart. Gotta be one place after another when it comes to our boys."

Stuart paused. Maybe he felt like crap, but understanding something like this was not possible until made possible. Gerald never knew when to stop before he started talking on out of his mouth on something he definitely hadn't 'been there' on. His son being on life support? Yeah, his ass alright.

Stuart didn't finish that last beer when he got up from the barstool. "See ya'll.."

"Stuart?"

The man left with more than he was already weighted with. Including the alcohol in his system.

Mentally drained from the last push of work before tomorrow's due date, Kenny couldn't wait to get inside. He hopped out of the car in thanking Mrs. Marsh for the ride and closed the door behind him as he walked up his home's pathway. His bag barely hung on to one shoulder and his feet felt like cinder blocks. His mind on the last few hours of on and off work but also his afternoon prior.

Reaching the unlocked door, he balanced his weight on the knob to turn and enter. Closing the door behind him upon the car driving off. If his dad was still awake maybe he could tell him what his mom had been hiding. He lived in a small house but with a big family, things were easy to spot.

The television mumbled at a low volume and it seemed as if all in the house were asleep. Including the one on the couch who had one propped foot at one end and the opposing arm dangled off where his head laid back with his jaw hung open in a loud snore. Unaware of his son's entrance with the last of an emptied beer bottle gracing his fingers on the floor near him. Kenny put down his bag by the couch's end, watching his father for a few moments in consideration before he reached for the remote on the coffee table.

Of all things that awoke Stuart. He immediately groaned quietly and rubbed a hand over his eyes. "Ken...hey.."

"Dad, can I ask something..?"

His father mumbled lowly and Kenny right away figured he wasn't gonna be able to get anything out of him this way. He watched his dad come to his balance in sitting up and propping both feet on the floor from the couch. Stuart leaned forward against his knees as he continued to rub his eyes now with both hands.

"Nevermind, I'm going to bed." Kenny dismissed, attempting to walk past his knees.

"Son.." Stuart spoke groggily, stopping Kenny by a large hand to his chest. Kenny paced back to look at him and his father's heavy eyes. The man was in a different world entirely, he could tell.

"It's fine, dad."

"Eh.." his father protested weakly, taking both shoulders of his. "You...listen to your...ma?"

"Yeah."

"An' everythin' she says.."

"Yeah.."

His drunken arms were unbalanced in pulling his son close for a hug. Kenny's face gently smushed against his dad's chest as Stuart breathed heavily from the closeness and the intoxication. The rapid beat of his father's heart Kenny could hear in his ear slowed in pace. With the little movement of his own arms, he kept close. Knowing right now his father needed this just as much as he did. Maybe more.

"You'll go...and see that therapist...' aight?"

"Mhm.." Kenny agreed.

The night remained silent around them, but his father's fear spoke volumes to his alert son.

To be continued...