Momentary Illusions

Chapter Thirteen

The Last Act

To Mr Percival Ignatius Weasley, Head of Department of Magical Transportation,

I cannot authenticate your short leave requests, Mr Weasley. I will require another submission as there seems to be a crucial error in your original request. The paperwork that you turned in asked for a short leave from the 30th of August to "until I probably die." It stated that you will be in the ward receiving chemotherapeutic potions through IV. I have received some valuable information that you may be a potion abuser.

How do I not know that you are not receiving your 'fix' and are skipping work in order to do so—and that the attached documents of your supposed 'treatment plan' is not a complete forgery, which I remind you is an offence that can get you 3 years by Wizengamot court?

From Catherine Nobody-Cares-What-Your-Last-Name-Is, Head of the Department of Magical Resources

Percy Weasley found himself in the Minister's office with a self-righteous Audrey on his left, and a white-faced Catherine with a black eye. He let out a disgruntled sigh because he could not believe that his wife had trudged down to Magical Resources and gotten into an altercation with this woman. And here Kingsley was, offering them tea and biscuits!

"This woman is deranged! Do you see what she's done to me? Magical Resources is such a targeted department—and I don't know why! This isn't the first time that something like this has happened!" Catherine immediately started rattling off. "I demand to be compensated for what has happened to myself and the horrors my staff has to go through—and demand that this woman be struck off the Ministry registrar! A boxing telescope sent to me by post! What a juvenile thing to be doing at her age." She huffed and puffed, her arms crossing over her voluptuous chest.

Audrey pfft-ed at her, which probably did not help the situation.

"Do you know how damaging this was to my mental health?" cried Catherine. "I've had such problems with my skin from a young age! And now, it's brought all those horrific memories back and I…" her lip wobbled.

"So sad," Audrey mentioned with an exaggerated false sigh.

"It could've broken a bone," Catherine stroked a cheek. "I have a fragile face."

"Didn't seem so fragile when you were sucking that junior assistant's face in the hallway closet," Audrey shrugged.

Well, Percy wouldn't be surprised about that.

"And what's your side of the story, Mrs Weasley?" Kingsley asked with a twinkle in his eye. "Anything broke on your part? And is Miss Catherine right about you being a…dispensable employee about your current actions?"

My wife is mental, Percy thought. That's just about it.

"Wish I could've bashed this cow with said boxing telescope instead of sending it in the mail," Audrey said with no hint of remorse for her actions. She rolled her eyes at Catherine and then pushed the roll of parchment that she'd swiped from Elora, who—in about a manner of only a few weeks—had suddenly developed an infatuation with her as much as she did her husband. Percy had heard Elora whisper to Audrey about how Percy needed to 'remind that cow that he was a Head of Department too'. "But I wanted to show restraint. That's what makes me such a valuable employee."

"Rubbish!" Catherine stuck her tongue out.

"You started it!" Audrey wagged a finger at her. "Suggesting that my dying husband is a potion addict and accusing him of forging his hospital papers? Denying him leave to complete his treatment and issuing a request to security to pay close attention to where he goes?"

"Well, he almost collapsed that one time!" Catherine fought back. "Was just looking out for his safety."

"Safety!" Audrey almost laughed. "You were acting like he was a criminal that needs to be chained to the wall! How would you like it if The Daily Prophet gets a hold of a story like that? Head of Department of Magical Resources denying leave to a sick, dying employee and making up false rumours about him?" there was a gleeful, almost deranged look to her warm chocolate eyes. "It's not like you haven't sent the letters! It's not like I've been making that out of my arse!"

"You…you wouldn't!" Catherine argued.

"Would too," Audrey would, and Percy knew it for a fact.

"Let's not," Percy did not want to be on The Daily Prophet anymore.

"That would…not be good," Kingsley concluded. Percy agreed.

Percy finally decided to indulge the Minister's office of tea. He poured himself a cup and added milk to it. He, like the Minister himself, did not like to weed out silly interdepartmental disputes. And Kingsley, whilst he was very good in battles and addressing important situations, did not really know what to do when two of his employees were caught mucking about in the hallway, or running around in the nude after drinking way too many caffeine potions.

"Is this true about what you've written to Mr Weasley?" Kingsley had asked Catherine. "He is also a Head of Department, you know." He frowned. "He has papers from the hospital regarding his condition. And it probably isn't the best or the wisest thing to do to be writing bold statements because you've heard a few rumours about him. This can go into the Wizengamot courts, you know. These accusations alone can have pretty dire consequences if Mr Weasley decides to press charges."

Audrey looked self-satisfied. "Of course, he'll—"

"I will not," Percy huffed. "Besides, like I'm not bogged up with enough paperwork." And for what? He was already dying. He had no interest in pursuing any court case.

"Um…" Catherine stammered when Kingsley had opened the roll of parchment and saw her very obvious signatures and very authentic Magical Resources stamp. "Well, it's not untrue but it is blown out of—"

With a glint in his eyes, he asked, "Mr Weasley, what do you want out of this?"

"Um…" Percy thought about what he wanted to be done here. "I'd like my…um…hospital leave authenticated."

"And for the bitch to pay hell," added Audrey.

"Um…" Percy's face went so red that it almost looked purple. "I'd rather not start departmental wars."

"I see your point," nodded Kingsley, ignoring whatever Audrey had just said. "So, we'll do that."

"Super," Percy felt nauseated.

Catherine had her mouth closed and slowly nodded her head. Kingsley was probably patting himself on the back for a job well done and Percy was just shaking his head, wondering what he was going to do with his wife.

"But there does have to be a consequence for this of course," Kingsley decided. "And I suppose that there must be a few more team-building exercises, a new employee review done in the next few months, and to encourage any other employees that have similar complaints to come forward." Percy knew that for Kingsley being able to give a plan like that and not just slap someone on their shoulders and send them on their way was very new. But he did appreciate it. "Does anyone want to get anything else off your chest before you leave?"

Percy cleared his throat. "Um…" he rubbed his neck. "Do you have any sugar by any chance?"

The afternoon that he was booked for chemotherapy came too quickly after that.

Percy barely slept that night. He kept waking up, terrified and practically drenched in a cold sweat. He had chest pains all night, thinking about how horrific it was going to be. The only relief he had was somehow he hadn't woken Audrey up with him racing in and out of bed like he had a bladder problem. He'd seen patients leave the chemotherapy ward and they all looked pale, thin and haggard like they were already on their deathbed. Percy was scared that this was going to take the small bit of livelihood left in him. He was scared that maybe that he'd be so miserable that he wouldn't even care if he'd died. He'd barely slept by the time that he'd gotten to work, and he was chewing on quills most of the day.

At around seven, he'd left to go to the hospital. Audrey wasn't given the privilege of clocking out of her shift (though she had desperately begged Percy too) and he wouldn't want her to. Percy had also pleaded with his parents not to come in with him (he was a forty-year-old man for Merlin's sake). They weren't happy about it, claiming they'd just send one of his brothers, just in case. And to Percy's absolute chagrin, that brother just had to be none other than George.

George was stood there waiting for him by the hospital entrance with blotchy red eyes. He looked like he hadn't slept either. "Who the bloody hell is up at this time?" he rubbed his eyes, groaning. "Bloody hell."

He looked like he'd just rolled out of bed and apparated here. He looked like he'd barely managed to comb his hair. His clothes were wrinkled like he'd either just picked them off the floor or had been wearing them when he'd been sleeping. He was in a black jumper and a pair of loose sweatpants that were almost falling off his hips. He was taking methodical, calculated sips from his coffee cup, almost as if he didn't want it to end.

"Alright, let's go," he said.

Percy said nothing as they made their way towards the ward. As they did, Percy was starting to feel sweaty with anxiety and anticipation. Every fibre of his being was telling him to run away. He was clenching his jaw so hard it hurt.

When he got to the room in the ward, Percy found himself stiffening because it was all a bunch of women arranged around in different beds, receiving chemotherapy through IV lines and abdominal lines. They all looked like women at least, with painted toenails and thick clumps of mascara on some of their faces, and others were just pale and withdrawn, with sunken eyes and cracked lips. Percy felt himself being stared at, as if he were an intruder. When he was taken to the last bed and sat there on the edge by one of the female nurses, there was an immediate uproar about "what was he doing here?" and "I'm not sharing a room with a bloke!" with some coughing and strained looks.

Percy did not feel comfortable. He pleadingly looked at the nurse before him, who ran out of the door.

As soon as he left, Percy felt his eyes becoming wet. He could see the room on the chemotherapy ward, labelled "Gynaecological Cancers". Each hallway was extensive, never-ending, each room with labels and figurines and people that were deathly ill. He supposed that this room mostly saw women pass through these doors. He didn't think that any of these patients ever expected a bloke like him to be taken there.

He was taken outside by one of the nurses after a few minutes. "Wait here," the nurse instructed and left.

"What's gone on?" George asked, who had been sat in the waiting area along with the rest of the relatives there, waiting to be let into the room. There was a woman with more piercings and tattoos than Percy even knew existed, and an elderly man that was reading an old issue of The Quibbler flagged beside her. "What excuse have you cooked up this time, Perce?"

"I didn't do anything," Percy said a little tensely. "And I've not cooked up any excuses."

George sighed. "For fuck's sake," he had little faith in Percy being able to complete the task.

Percy didn't know what to say. He'd never been in a bender before with any of his younger siblings where the issue of his gender identity had come to play here. If Bill or Charlie were with him, they'd have caused a scene right now about how 'they had no right to do throw him out of a ward'. He didn't feel comfortable to return and he didn't feel comfortable to be taken to another ward, where he also didn't belong and just sit there, pretending that everything was fine. But he also didn't want to be left alone.

"Can't believe I've let mum and dad persuade me to take you to this," George rubbed his temple. He looked like he was about to fall asleep standing up. He kept rubbing his eyes and tossing him death glares. "Whatever, Perce."

Before Percy could say anything, George walked over to the counter.

"Whatever my brother is saying about not wanting to do this," George mumbled. "Ignore him. He's sick and deranged. He's already signed all the consent forms." Percy remembered reading all the side effects because he did. He wanted to run away instead of signing the forms. But here he was, and he felt lonelier than ever.

The nurses at the station looked at him like he were mental. "Err… okay?" one of them said.

George looked at Percy. "You're doing this."

"I know," Percy said quietly. "This is not what this is about."

"Then what is it about?"

Before Percy could reply, a nurse had walked towards him. "Percy," he nodded towards him and gestured towards the room at the corner. Percy did not want to go there. It was not labelled, and he bet that nobody stayed there before. He felt his stomach become so queasy he thought he might collapse any minute. "Come with me."

"Alright," Percy walked as listlessly as possible towards the corner. George, with a raised eyebrow, followed him.

"What is this about, Perce?" George asked again.

"Nothing," Percy replied with the tone that he was closing the topic.

The room that had been prepared for him was almost empty. There was this one bed, and Percy was supposed to just be sat there and wait for him to bring his potion out. Percy was unnerved by how everything looked like. The tiles were very white-and-black and crisscrossed. There was a lone kettle in the corner. There was a shockingly blue bed just there, looking like it didn't belong there. It looked almost like a kitchen in a flat instead of a room. The blankets looked very thin, and he wished that he'd brought his old fuzzy brown one from home, the one that smelled and reeked like anything.

Percy didn't want to make a fuss, but he did not want to be receiving his potions in this room.

He looked back at George, who just rooting through his pockets and wondering if he'd bought anything to entertain himself. Percy was biting down his lower lip apprehensively. He laid down on the bed and tried to relax and not to mention the fact that he'd rather be in Azkaban than be in there.

"Do you know how long that'll take?" George asked.

Percy shook his head. "I suppose it takes some time." He'd thought maybe hours.

"Great."

Within half an hour, they'd put the IV line in him and had the potion ongoing. Percy smiled at the nurse, and he'd disappeared within seconds of making sure the potion was going through. Percy tried to relax, but it was hard to. George was sitting by his side, leaning against his bed. He didn't look very comfortable in the tiny rickety chair that he had, but he supposed that was just a drawback.

"Calm down for Merlin's sake," George mumbled, which was easy for him to say.

"I am trying to," Percy felt like something was wrong though.

"Try harder."

"Coming from you, George? You've not tried hard at anything in your life," Percy airily mentioned.

George's lip twitched. "Watch it."

But as seconds went by, Percy realised that things were not going well.

"George?" Percy was starting to feel anxious. "There's something wrong."

"Oh, not this," George shook his head. "What are you going on about now?"

Percy couldn't relax and within seconds, he felt like he was suffocating and that he couldn't breathe.

"Can't breathe," Percy finally said, hearing himself wheezing. "Call the nurse." He closed his eyes.

"You're having a panic attack," George told him without bothering to look up from the shop catalogue that he looked like he was leafing through. "You're not dying, Perce right now so fucking quit it." But Percy felt like he was, and he was wondering if he was having a panic attack. If he was just blowing the whole thing out of proportion.

Percy let out a laboured breath. He felt his eyes starting to water and his throat felt like it was closing up.

"No! It's…" Percy's eyes were watering. "Not a panic attack."

"Sure, it's not."

Percy let out a strangled wheeze. He was sure that he was turning blue.

"Perce?" George's eyes looked wide with alarm. "Perce, come on, it's not funny."

"I don't…I…feel…" Percy was starting to become incomprehensible in his speech.

George darted straight out of the room. Meanwhile, Percy felt like his whole face was getting swollen. His skin was itchy and red ad blotchy. His stomach hurt so much, and he felt dizzy beyond belief.

"Someone please help my brother!" George shrieked out. "He's puffing up like a bloody blowfish!"

Abandoned, Percy felt like he was pooled in a sheen of sweat.

"Help," Percy wheezed out, feeling his chest get tighter.

One of the nurses came in straight away and removed the IV line away from him. A few seconds in, he could hear the healer's POP! sound out by the desk and say, "What's going on then? What's this about a severe allergic reaction? Ah, alright," then he could hear footsteps heading his way. A wrecked-looking, wide-awake George was stood in front of him, and the healer looked at him and told the nursing staff to get a few more potions, including injecting a pen into his thigh.

Just a few minutes after he'd been injected, Percy felt so much better. All the spots on his body suddenly disappeared, as if they'd never happened before and even his throat felt less swollen and painful.

"What's this patient doing in this room?" the healer asked. "What kind of cancer does he have?"

George looked quizzically at Percy, unsure if there was a room issue he didn't know about. Percy supposed George's tunnel vision made it so that he didn't know that Percy was the only one that had his own room.

"Ovarian cancer," George explained. "He has ovarian cancer."

"And why isn't he in the other room?" the healer asked the nurse pointedly.

"We've asked Healer Blake about it, Healer Rose," the nurse mentioned, red-faced. "He's mentioned that since the other patients didn't feel comfortable having him in that room, that we orchestrate a separate room for this patient." Percy felt so ashamed he couldn't look anyone in the eyes. He sank into the bed. He was exhausted and he just wanted to go home.

"What?" George looked surprised. "That can't be right. My brother didn't say anything about a separate room!"

Percy stared at George, wishing that he wasn't brought into this after having a 'severe allergic reaction.'

"Well, that worked out spectacularly," Healer Rose replied, rolling her eyes around. "Come on, love. We need to keep you under observation. You've had a very bad allergic reaction and it may happen again."

"Again?" Percy didn't believe that something like that could happen again.

Percy didn't want to stay under observation, and he didn't want to go to that same room again.

George was very cautiously helping Percy out of the bed and walking down with him to that same room. The "Gynaecological Cancers" room. Percy had stood outside whilst the healer walked in and explained to her patients about how Percy was 'just like them' and that he also had a gynaecological cancer and that there was no way that they could deny any patient treatment based on other patients' preferences. There must be something different about him when he'd walked in because they all looked quite compassionate when he'd been sat down at the last bed again.

Healer Rose explained that his treatment plan would change now and not include any of the offending potions. That they were going to give him a smaller dose next time and see how he adjusted before adding it on. Percy just kept nodding his head, but inside, he felt so defeated.

"Why didn't they want you in this room?" George asked, very loudly must Percy add on.

"It's not important," Percy turned to the side so that he wasn't facing anybody. He didn't want to be 'under observation' for four long hours just because he had a horrific reaction to something he didn't even want to take in the first place. "And you know, George, everyone else can hear you in this room."

"I don't care," George said loftily. "Is it 'cause you're a bloke?"

"That's the assumption," Percy said in an almost whisper because he felt rather bad for having this conversation out in the open anyway. He doubted that these women wanted to hear about how he'd been shunned by them by his brother.

"But this is the gynaecological cancer room," George reminded him. "And you've got…"

"I know what I've got," Percy said weakly. He closed his eyes and buried his head in his hands. He just wanted to get this over with. This just made him even more terrified for tomorrow, even with the tweaking of his potions. "Please, just for once, in your life, George, can you consider the fact that you're not alone and we're in a room with other people."

"They didn't consider you," George's statement was rather hard for Percy to hear.

"Well, you don't consider me either," Percy shot back. "And even if I was having a panic attack, that was no way to address the situation." He bet that that was the worst way that George could've addressed the situation.

George looked like he'd been slapped in the face. "I…I guess you're right."

After a moment of silence, someone was clearing their throat and very lightly and clearly said, "My name is Rosalyn," one of the women had said. Percy looked up at her and she was on the other side of her room. She must be at least sixty-eight years old, with hair that was so white it almost blended with the blanket that she was covered with. There was a bloke next to her that Percy would wager was his son. "And your brother is right. I didn't consider you. I'm very sorry about that."

"It's alright," Percy closed his eyes. He felt a little emotional because he didn't expect anyone to apologise to him. He could almost feel his eyes welling up with tears. It had been such a hard and terrible day.

"I'm Lauren," another one had said. This woman was a little younger, looked like she was closer to Percy's age than Rosalyn was. Maybe a couple of years younger than him actually. She was dark-skinned and dark-haired. Her hair was in a bun, and she was wearing a loose-fitting gown. She was thin and tall with a round face. "I have cervical cancer."

Percy nodded his head. "Oh," he supposed the correct thing would be to say that he was sorry, but the words were caught in his throat. "I have ovarian cancer," it was strange just to mention it as if it was part of a normal conversation.

"I'm Caitlyn," another woman mentioned. She was pretty young too, blonde with a short bob. She was a heavier girl, with smaller breasts and a protruding abdomen. "I have breast cancer. It's not technically a 'gynaecological cancer' or whatever, so…I guess that I'm more out of place than you are." She smiled at him a little, but Percy felt overwhelmed.

"I have ovarian cancer too," said Rosalyn. "There's a few of us that come here every now and then." She nodded off to the bloke sat beside her that looked like he was disengaged from the conversation. "This is my son."

Caitlyn looked a little too young to have children. Lauren didn't seem to say anything either.

"Do you have any kids?" Lauren asked, but then flushed. "I mean…well, I don't know if you can have kids but…"

"I have two girls," Percy felt himself relax a little bit. He supposed that many of them stayed there for hours just talking. He didn't know if he'd hate that entirely. It did put his mind off the fact that he'd be in there for four hours just for the observation. "They're named Molly and Lucy."

"Oh, it must be hard on them. This is my husband, Clive," Lauren nodded off to him. Percy felt like he'd heard that a hundred times before. "I don't want to have children. You're surprised at how many people feel like it's their business."

"It's not," Percy commented. And why were they talking about having children when you were, you know, so ill?

"Hello," Clive smiled warmly. "Can I ask how did you have a baby? Are you…married to a man?"

"Woman," Percy corrected. "One of my brothers was nice enough to lend us a hand—er…literally. We did IVF. We've tried about five times, the first was a miscarriage and the last two were miscarriages. But in between, we had two lovely little girls so we've no right to complain really." It was expensive, of course, but back when Audrey was working, they'd split the cost evenly amongst them.

George looked surprised. It was like he'd never thought about how Molly and Lucy came to be. "Brother?" he repeated.

"Charlie," Percy explained, shrugging. He supposed he could've asked Bill, but Charlie seemed like an obvious choice, considering he had nobody else to answer to when he got home. He had no wife, no children, or anything else of the sort. Besides, his daughters saw him so rarely that Percy was relieved that they couldn't consider him a 'father figure' really.

"Charlie is Molly and Lucy's father?" George found that surprising.

"Well…" Percy would like to think that he was their father thank you very much. "Technically, but not emotionally."

"Emotionally," George echoed incredulously.

"Don't you have anyone with you, Caitlyn?" Percy decided to say. She was all alone, sat there in the middle, and he doubted that she was of age. She looked like she was in her sixth year at most, if not even younger.

"No," Caitlyn finally said. Percy felt bad for her. It sounded like nobody cared enough to come with her.

"Oh," he did feel a little better. Even with him and George on such shaky ground, he knew that if he'd asked, his whole family would be crammed into this little room. His heart went out to this little girl that looked to have been abandoned by her family. "I'm sorry, sweetheart," he said, and he truly, truly meant that.

"It must suck," George decided to say.

"Yeah," answered Caitlyn absentmindedly.

"But we've here for her," Rosalyn said firmly, as if they've had that conversation before. "Sometimes, you can't always trust or choose your family." That was a loaded statement and it looked like her son also seemed to agree with her.

"Perce would agree," George sounded like he had a whisper of longing into his voice. "Wouldn't you, Perce?"

"I've never said anything," Percy told him rather harshly.

Percy felt like he was put on the spot. He decided that he didn't have to answer that if he didn't want to.

"Don't you have a line, Percy?" Caitlyn decided to change the subject. Percy wasn't used to someone her age calling him 'Percy' anymore. He looked down at his hand where his cannula used to be and just shook his head. "I thought you were doing chemotherapy today?" she didn't sound suspicious, but Percy felt like he was put on the spot.

"Yes, that was the initial plan," Percy explained after a beat. "But I suppose I've had an allergic reaction."

"That's horrible!" Rosalyn looked genuinely pained by his plight. "Do they think that they can do it for you?"

"I think they'll do it tomorrow. They're keeping me for observation," Percy said the last part tensely. He felt fine now, if not knackered from his lack of sleep. Being anxious about one thing all day made it hard to concentrate on anything. And now he knew that there would be another try tomorrow made him feel like throwing up. He may truly have a panic attack if they'd put an IV line again with the purpose of giving him strong potions. "How is it like? Is it painful?"

"It's not supposed to be," Lauren reassured. "But it is really exhausting and horrible. It's taken them so long to get the right mixture of anti-nausea potions so that I wasn't upchucking all the time. You know, I've just started to put on weight," she'd padded her flat, almost concave stomach. "But it's mostly exhausting. I could sleep forever after I've finished a round. There's just so many potions with so many side-effects. I believe it's designed to make you feel the worst that you can."

"It's different for everyone," Rosalyn decided to offer but she didn't sound convinced herself. "But it's not pleasant. Even without the side-effects, it's tiring to come here every day, sit here for a couple of hours, even with the good company."

Caitlyn seemed to agree. "Yeah," she looked down at her feet. "Also, I'm the only person ever to gain weight after chemotherapy. I was a big girl before, but now, I'm like huge." She looked like she was about to cry.

"You're a beautiful girl, Cait," Clive tried to say tersely. "You know that. You're going through this horrible thing."

"I know," Caitlyn did look a little brighter. "Thank you all for the flowers you've sent back home. And all the chocolate and thank you for cooking for me and sending me all those nice gifts." She looked so emotional.

Percy felt very bad for her. It sounded like she was put down a lot in her life. There were a few reassuring words from the other women in the room, though he doubted that he'd class Caitlyn as a woman. She was a scared child. She could be his daughter and that thought was perturbing to him. This was all reminding him of The Thing he had found in the shower when he'd been in it the other thing. The Thing that he was trying to ignore and not think about in case it meant something more dangerous.

"After the second procedure, I've had the worst swelling in this arm," she showed him her massive-looking left arm. It looked painful to move. "And to boot, I've had to remove my breasts," she'd pointed to her near flat chest. He'd thought that she'd had a procedure done to have her breasts back, but just realised it was most likely to just be a little bit of fat there making it look like she'd still had breast tissue. "I've got a genetic condition. It's why I've had it so young."

"I do too," Percy said quietly. He'd been tested during the first few weeks. Apparently, it was backtracked to before his mum's time, but there were records. And he'd tested positive for that. "My mum and sister got checked before but I think my mum's just forgotten that I've…" his voice trailed off.

"You do?" George looked at Percy like he was gobsmacked.

"Oh, poor mum," Rosalyn said. "How is she coping with knowing all of that?"

"I haven't told anyone," Percy realised that it was the first time he'd said it out loud. He'd been tested as part of the work-up, just to see if he'd had to remove any other tissues. They scheduled him for a full-body checking, with more speculum examinations and breast examinations. He suffered through that. In fact, this was the first time that he'd really thought about it. "I suppose it's not a shock. The healer wasn't surprised either—said that…well, you're more likely to have it if you're exposed to certain hormones for some time. But I've not. I mean…" he gestured towards his body. That was an indication. He had a 'cycle' (and he was not going to explain what that was) once in a blue moon and he was surly when he did.

"Since the transition you mean," Rosalyn realised. "Did you start transitioning late?"

"I was five," Percy explained. Rosalyn looked surprised. "I didn't fully transition. There were some extenuating circumstances." He was so anxious that he was talking about anything under the sun. He'd said things that he was not telling his own family, and even George was looking a little stunned, sat there. "Do you think that you'll live?"

The whole room suddenly went very quiet.

"I'd love to, of course," Rosalyn had said. Her son looked visibly distressed by where this conversation was heading and even though he was trying to pretend to be invested in his comic book, there was a corner of his lip that twitched, and his eyes had started watering. "But I think…I think that it's very hard when you get past a certain stage. I'm only doing it for those next few months, you know. I'd like to go to Belize, I think. Like to have a beautiful holiday. Marry this younger man I've managed to find that seems intent on being with me until the end of my days."

That sounded rather nice, Percy decided. It didn't sound like it was for him, but he supposed that was the novel version that he'd have hoped for if things hadn't been so hard.

"I've lived my whole life being spontaneous," Lauren explained. "You know, we call this Last Act of Spontaneity. And mine is actually to slow down." Her eyes went wide, as if she'd never considered such a thing before.

"Thank Merlin for that," Clive laughed lightly.

"They said that they think that I'll live. I think so too—I feel really good…sometimes that is," Caitlyn finally said. "I think so too. The girls—and Clive and Henry—have helped me so much. They've given me so much money and My Last Act is going to do a little bit of good in London, you know. Help out in a few soup kitchens, that sort of thing."

Percy felt his heart crumble a little bit. He'd laid backwards, staring at the wall. He had no idea how he ended up here. A couple of months ago, he was trying to get out of having lunch with his father and now, he found himself here.

"Perce?" George shook him a little. "You went all weird."

"I'm just tired," Percy answered back.

He said nothing for the rest of that 'observation' period, even when a new group had come for their chemotherapy session. There were more people coming all, all looked like women on the outside, and Percy would take a stab in the dark and assume that they all identified as women too. They were less chatty than his previous bunch, but the little girl that was sitting next to her mum was asking him questions about what he was doing here. Her mum had told him to leave him alone and that he looked rather tired.

He did fall asleep for the last hour, and by the time that he was told he could go home, he was genuinely relieved.

George had insisted on stopping by a takeaway shop and buying them some fish and chips. They sat outside on a bench and ate. Percy felt like George really wanted to talk to him but didn't know what to say. As Percy broke his fish into pieces, he looked over at George and then very loudly said, "You know… there's a chance that I'm really going to be gone," he knew that George knew but he didn't seem to accept it. "It's not up to you."

He saw his brother's shoulders drop. "I know," George didn't seem like he knew. "I screwed up."

Percy finally felt a sense of relief. "You did."

George looked like he didn't know what to do. "I've fucked up so bad," his voice cracked. "You're so ill, and I…I've fought with you a lot. Everyone has. Seeing all those other sick people in the ward made me feel sick. They look like they're really going to die, and…" he cocked his head to Percy, as if taking him in. As if he somehow looked like death too. Funny, because when Percy looked at the mirror that morning, he looked absolutely normal. You wouldn't have been able to tell that he'd had most of his abdominal organs resected, or that he was so seriously ill. "Scares me to death, knowing that you're one of them, Perce. That you belong there."

Percy didn't feel like he belonged anywhere, but he digressed.

"You don't have to go back," George finally said.

Percy pulled his head up from his fish and chips. "What have you said?"

"You don't have to do this, Perce," George looked a little scared of voicing that out. "I want you too, Perce. I really want you to do everything to-to live as long as possible, you know. But if this is what you really want…if you really don't want to go back, then I'm going to back you up." He smiled at him.

Percy didn't know what to say. "Thank you," he looked down at his feet. "But I've already gotten approval from the Ministry to attend these sessions."

He didn't know if he cared anymore about going. He just wanted it to be over with. He wanted people to stop talking about it, and he felt like George's sentiment was luring him into a false sense of security.