o()o
Author's Note: I wanted to put this little bit into Waiting Game so much, but there just wasn't any place for it. Remember guys; always support your local Relay for Life. Ours is in 2 weeks.
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Connor fell in love with the pediatric ward the moment he stumbled across it. Hobbling awkwardly on his crutches, pleased to finally leave the wheelchair behind, he slowly made his way through the winding hospital hallways, his brother at his side.
The sound of children's laughter drew him like a moth to flame.
Connor loved kids; maybe it was because he had always fancied himself the older brother, taking care of the 'younger' Murphy for as long as he could remember, or maybe it was because he was still part kid himself. Whatever the reason, he had a special affinity for them. In return, he was never surprised when a strange child would come running up to him, arms outstretched for a hug and a frantic parent in tow.
Grinning, he stopped in front of the huge glass window that looked into the ward. There were at least a dozen kids sitting around a huge table, various glues, glitters, and other art supplies surrounding them, and a giant bowl of popcorn in their midst.
"Would ye look at that," He said, leaning in to get a better view, "They're makin' pictures out o' fuckin' popcorn in there."
His brother chuckled, "Do ye want ta go join them now, Conn?"
A little boy, no more than eight years old, wearing a bright red baseball cap that didn't quite disguise the fact that he was bald, turned around in his seat. Seeing Connor, the boy offered him a toothy grin and a wave.
Carefully balancing on his crutches, Connor waved back, his face alight. "You know," he said to Murphy, "I think maybe I will."
Murphy made a semi-serious noise of annoyance, but Connor knew that his brother was well used to his quirks, and would follow wherever he went.
The smell of popcorn and glue hit them almost immediately. Connor took a deep breath grinning and Murphy chuckled, patting his brother affectionately on the back.
"Ye're off yer nut." he said fondly and Connor just chuckled.
The boy in the red baseball cap was there in an instant, tugging impatiently on the sleeve of Connor's robe.
"You can sit by me." He said, lisping through the gap where a front tooth once was.
"Well, let's go sit then." Connor said, "Can me brother come too?"
The boy gave Murphy an appraising look, then turned wide eyes back to Connor. "Is he a good brother?"
Laughing, Connor placed a hand on the back of Murphy's neck, "The best."
"Okay, he can come too."
"Okay."
Pulling up a chair and leaning over the boy's drawing, Connor shot his brother a happy glance. Murphy, despite his earlier protestations, was kneeling down before a small girl attached to an IV stand, listening intently to what she was saying, his eyes sparkling.
"You talk funny."
The words provoked an amused chuckle. "Aye, well, so do you."
"I do not."
"Ta me ye do."
"Why are you here?" the boy asked digging a handful of popcorn out of the bowl, "Are you sick?"
Connor took his own handful of popcorn, munching a few kernels, "I got hurt catching some bad guys." He whispered conspiratorially.
"Like Batman?" the boy's eyes were wide and admiring.
"Aye, like Batman." He said. After all, who didn't want to be compared to a superhero?
"My name's Martin."
"I'm Connor."
"Batman's real name is Bruce Wayne."
"That's good ta know."
Smearing glue across the piece of paper in front of him, the boy began carefully sticking pieces of popcorn onto his creation. "I'm here because I'm dying."
Connor stilled, taken aback at how nonchalantly those words were spoken. He looked at Martin, frowning, but the boy was intent on his artwork.
"Dyin'?" the word came out gently, as if his tone could somehow soften the harshness of it's meaning.
"Mmhmm." Martin replied with an enthusiastic sprinkling of glitter, "Acute Promyelocytic Leukemia, it went away for a while, but then it came back."
"Christ." half explecative, half prayer, it slipped out of him, no more than a breath, and Connor was grateful that Martin seemed not to have heard. He wasn't sure what had surprised him more, such sophisticated words coming out of someone so small, or the death sentence they proclaimed.
"Mom says that when I die I'll go to heaven and see Jesus, she tells me she'll miss me a lot."
"Well, of course she will." Connor said, feeling a sharp stab of pity for Martin's Ma.
How would it feel, he wondered, to lose something so precious, to know that your boy was dying and there wasn't a damn thing you could do to stop it?
"Do you believe in Heaven?" Martin asked carefully rearranging the now sticky pieces of popcorn slightly.
"Aye, I do."
"Me too."
Fighting the lump that was threatening to swell in his throat, Connor looked for his twin, as if Murphy could somehow make this better. It was a habit that had been honed his entire life, there was very little in Connor's world that Murph couldn't make right with an arm slung around his neck or a grin.
He spied his brother a few tables away, obligingly holding a handful of crayons for the same cute girl with the IV pole, munching his own handful of popcorn.
As if sensing Connor's vexation, Murphy turned and looked at his twin, frowning, concerned. Setting the crayons back on the table and tousling the little girl's unruly red curls, Murphy rose from his seat making his way over toward his brother.
"How're we doin' over here, lads?" he asked, carefully draping an arm around Connor's shoulders and leaning down to see Martin's picture.
"We're talking about Batman." Martin said with a grin and another generous dusting of blue glitter.
"Ah, a fine hero indeed." said Murphy, sucking his cheeks in, looking down at his twin amusedly, "What with the cape and the pointy ears and all."
Nodding, the boy surveyed his work, and then fixed both brothers with a proud smile. "It's a masterpiece!" he declared.
"Aye, that it is." Murphy chuckled and Connor felt the tension drain out of his body, comforted as much by the sound of his twin's laugh as the affectionate touch.
"Here, you can have it." Martin said sliding the masterpiece over to him.
"Thank ye, Martin." said Connor, grinning as he carefully inspected the creation.
"Maybe you can hang it on your wall or something."
"I think I'll do just that."
"I have to go now. It's time for my Chemo." He made a face and Connor fought the urge to wince along with him. "Will you come visit me tomorrow?"
"You bet I will."
That night, Connor sat in bed, rosary held between his palms, Martin's masterpiece tacked to the wall behind him, and prayed for the little boy until the pain medication lulled him to asleep."
o()o
Connor and Martin became fast friends after that day.
Popcorn, macaroni, or cereal, Connor always left the children's craft area with another one of Martin's masterpieces. Through the course of time, Connor learned that Martin loved Batman, Hot-Wheels, Rice Krispies, and his baby sister. He used to play first base on his little league team, before he got sick and was very good at playing Nintendo games, especially Mario.
He only met the boy's mother once, a bubbly young woman with a little one on her hip and a smile that was just like her son's.
"Martin talks about you all the time." She had said, beaming, " You've made such an impression on him, I'm so glad that I finally get to meet you."
Connor had chuckled, pleased. "Well, he's made quite the impression on myself, as well. My room's full of his masterpieces."
Martin's Ma had laughed along with him, shaking her head. "You should see our refrigerator at home. It's covered with his pictures, every one of them a masterpiece."
"He's a great kid."
She nodded, "Martin's really something special, I don't think many kids can go through what he has to and still be so wonderful. He never loses his temper, never complains," she sniffled softly, wiping under her eyes before the tears Connor saw welling there could fall, "He and Sasha, here, are my masterpieces."
The baby girl beamed a toothless smile from her mother's hip and reached out to Connor, babbling.
"You really have a gift with kids." She said, her smile resurfacing .
Connor had taken the little girl, cradling her in his arms, grinning. The baby offered him a juicy kiss in the ear and then contented herself fiddling with the beads of his rosary, cooing to him softly as she did.
"I'm really grateful that you came into his life. I work two jobs, and now with the baby . . ." Martin's Ma had trailed off sighing "It's a relief to know that he isn't always alone when I can't be with him."
"Where's his Da?" Connor regretted the words as soon as they left his lips, "I'm sorry, that's none of me business."
"No, it's okay." Her smile became a little wistful, "Martin's father couldn't cope with his cancer. He left us right after we found out for the first time."
She glanced at the clock, shaking herself from the memory. "Martin's almost through with his chemo. I should get going."
"It was nice to meet you." Connor said, extending a hand.
Settling the baby back on her hip, she had taken his hand, shaking it warmly. "The pleasure was all mine, Connor."
Martin's Ma on his mind, Connor slowly meandered his way back to his room. Pushing open the door and seeing Murphy there, reading the newspaper, he realized how lucky he was to have his twin.
No matter what happened in his life, Murph would always be there. Connor would never have to face the world alone.
Limping over to his brother, he clasped Murphy to him in a warm embrace.
"What's this for, then?" Murphy said, surprised, patting him affectionately on the back.
"For always being there."
"Well, of course I'm always goin' ta be here, ye dope. I'm yer twin aren't I?"
o()o
"No chemo today?" Connor asked, nodding toward the clock.
Martin shook his head, threading cereal onto a piece of yarn. "I don't have to go anymore. Mom says that she wants me to feel good from now on. She says it's important that the time we have left together is happy."
Connor closed his eyes against the sudden painful tightening in his chest. Quality of life. He thought sadly, it must not be long now. Warm hands settled on his shoulders, and he knew instinctively that it was his brother. Reaching up he patted his twin's fingers in a silent gesture of acknowledgement and thanks.
"Hi Murph," Martin looked up, grinning, "long time no see."
"That's quite a creation yer makin' there, Martin." Murphy said, giving his twin's shoulders a reassuring squeeze and then bending over to examine the boy's handiwork.
"Yup, it's gonna be a masterpiece."
"That's good. Connor here still has some spots on his walls that need fillin'" He looked down at his brother and grinned. Connor grinned back, grateful for Murphy's comforting presence.
"Ah," Murphy said, chuckling as he ruffled his twin's hair, "There's Jessi, I'm going ta see if she needs a crayon caddie today."
o()o
When Martin got too sick to leave his hospital room, Connor would sit with him for hours, reading him comic books or telling stories until the boy would doze off. As Martin grew weaker and more tired, they would talk about God and the bible.
"Do you still believe in Heaven?" Martin whispered, eyes heavy.
"Of course I do." Connor swallowed, forcing his voice to be steady.
"Me too. Hey Connor,"
"Aye?"
"I can't wait to see it."
The next morning, Connor didn't say a word when the nurse told him, in quiet sympathetic tones, that Martin had finally lost his battle with cancer and passed away in his sleep. His composure didn't change. He had simply nodded and turned away hobbling unsteadily back to his room.
But when Murphy awoke, he found his twin sitting in bed, holding Martin's first masterpiece, gently fingering the glitter sprinkled popcorn.
There was no need to ask what had happened.
"Do ye believe in Heaven, Murph?" Whispered Connor, watching the way the rising sun glinted off the paper in his hands.
"You know I do." Murphy said, rising to place gentle a hand on the back of his brother's neck.
"Do ye think we'll ever see it?"
"I can only hope so."
Connor nodded, seemingly satisfied with the answer. "Maybe we'll see him again, then." Blinking back the tears gathering in his eyes, he looked at his brother. "Murphy?"
"Aye?"
"Pray for him with me?"
Murphy nodded, taking his twin's hands. Together they bowed their heads, noses almost touching as they recited the prayer they had been taught in the cradle.
"And shepherds we shall be, for thee my Lord for thee . . ."
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