The day Jackson Bennett had to go to his first chemotherapy appointment was a busy one for his mother and father. Fearing the cost of the treatments, Jamie had gotten a second job and couldn't make it, no matter how Jackson sobbed and pleaded. Lucy didn't want to go by herself, but she saw no solution. At least, she didn't until Jamie had left for work. She was scrubbing the breakfast dishes while dreading the rest of the day. Her gaze drifted to the window and she nearly dropped a coffee mug into the sink. The shining, shimmering rainbow figure was outside, sitting on the porch, his form turned toward Jackson.

She wiped her hands dry on a towel, snagged a notebook from the bookshelf, and hurried outside. The figure, Prism she reminded herself, turned his form toward her. She saw his head dip in acknowledgment then he scooted over to allow her to sit beside him. She dropped down and thrust the notebook at him.

"Here."

The almost phantom hand grasped the pen and scribbled on a clean sheet of paper.

Thank you, Lucy.

"Why are you here?" she asked. Panic flashed through her eyes. "The others aren't here, are they?"

No, he wrote.

"Sorry," she muttered.

He tapped the pen on the page for a moment then began to write again.

I understand. It's disconcerting to think of invisible people watching your every move. That's one reason grownups don't believe in Santa Claus. It's creepy.

Lucy breathed out and relaxed. This Prism sure understood her thoughts and feelings.

"I thought his name was North?" she asked idly. "That's what Jamie calls him."

Nicolas St. North, the Guardian of Wonder. But children call him Santa Claus.

"Shouldn't Jamie call him Nick then?"

To her surprise, the shimmering form beside her began to shake. It took her several moments to figure out that he was laughing. Some kind of strange refraction happened before her eyes, as his form became stronger, almost filled with rainbow light. The memory that she had been trying to remember seemed to be hovering just out of view. But it never came to her. When he had calmed down, the pen scratched against the paper again.

North despises that name. St. Nick is one of the most hated iterations of his name. Oh, he loathes that name! Call him that to his face. I would love to see it.

Lucy smiled. "I might be willing to do that. He can't really touch me since I can't see him, can he?"

No, he can't touch you.

She nodded and watched as Jackson glanced up from his swing set, waving. He didn't even seem to see the form beside her.

"So, why are you here?"

Moral support. I figured since Jamie is working, you'd like to have somebody to come with you.

Tears stung Lucy's eyes. "That's very thoughtful," she whispered. She looked back at her son. "Why can't he see you?"

More tapping on the page. Because he doesn't know my name and who I am. If you tell him, and if he believes it, he could see me. There was a pause. I would like to have him see me. If you don't object.

Lucy studied the form then nodded. "Sure." She raised her voice. "Jackson! There's somebody I want to introduce to you."

Jackson leaped from the swing, landed hard, and hit his knees. He grunted, then stood up and limped over. He looked over her shoulder, trying to see who was there. Prism watched his expression, cautious but hopeful.

"Who is it?" Jackson finally asked

"It's a friend of mine," Lucy replied, and Prism's heart stopped. A friend? She turned to him, and he rapidly wrote down his information.

"This is Prism… Lunanoff?" she asked, and Prism nodded clearly. "He is the Guardian of Courage, and he wants to help you be brave."

Jackson blinked once, turned to face the other side of the step, and Prism saw everything click. The boy beamed, looking the thin man up and down.

"Hi!"

"Hello, Jackson," Prism said, and Lucy flinched.

Jackson was surprised. "Mommy? What's wrong?"

"She can't see me clearly, and she can't hear my voice like you can. It hurts her ears," Prism explained.

"Oh," he stared at Prism. "So you're here to help me be brave?"

"I can already tell you're a very brave little boy," Prism said. "But a little support never hurts. Since your father has to work, I'm coming with you and your mother."

"Mommy says that they'll put a needle in my arm."

There was a shiver of fear that snaked through Prism's mind. "You don't like needles, do you?" he asked gently.

"Needles hurt me."

"But the cancer is hurting you, too. Look at all your bruises."

Jackson looked down at the myriad of purple, green, and yellow marks all over his arms and legs. He nodded. "Yeah. But they don't hurt that bad."

Prism leaned forward, taking the boy's hand in his own. "You love your mommy and daddy, don't you?"

The boy's eyes grew huge and he nodded. "I love them a lot."

"Well, if you don't get the needle put in your arm, you might have to tell them goodbye."

Jackson pursed his lips. "Goodbye?" he asked. "Why would I have to tell them goodbye?"

Lucy felt her stomach drop. She didn't want Jackson to think about death. She opened her mouth to protest, but Prism silently reached out and placed his hand against her mouth. A shock traveled down her spine, and she shivered as he removed his hand and shook it out. Jackson watched the display curiously.

"Why would I have to tell them goodbye?" he asked again.

Prism looked at him, taking both hands again. "You would die and go be with the angels. Mommy and Daddy wouldn't get to see you for a very long time. Do you understand?" Jackson nodded, so he continued. "They would be very sad if that happened. And I know you don't want them to be sad."

"So if I get the needle in my arm, I won't die?"

Lucy sucked in a breath, but Prism ignored her. "I won't lie, Jackson. The treatment might not work. There's a chance you could die. But if you get the needle in your arm, it is more likely that you will live. Mommy and Daddy and I want you to grow up and start a family and be happy. But you have to be a brave boy. The needle will only hurt for a moment. The cancer will make you hurt a lot worse."

Jackson stared hard at Prism. Never before had a grownup spoken to him like this, like he could understand what was going on. All the doctors and the nurses said nice things, but they never answered his questions about why he was tired or why he got bruises. He didn't comprehend what cancer was, but now he knew that he could die. It wasn't a pleasant thought, but it was pleasant that Prism treated him like he was old enough to understand.

"Then I'll get the needle in my arm," he said matter-of-factly. "I don't want Mommy and Daddy to be sad." He turned to his mother. "I hope that the medicine makes me better. But if it doesn't, I get to be with the angels."

Lucy stared in disbelief at her son, unable to even believe what was coming out of her son's mouth. Tears welled in her eyes again, but she blinked them away and smiled.

"You're such a brave boy. Now, go get dressed. We have to get going."

Jackson hurried inside and up the stairs to his room to change out of his play clothes. Lucy turned to Prism.

"I don't know what you said. But thank you."

Prism picked up the notebook and pen and began to write.

I understand that you're scared but keeping the truth from him will only hurt him. He needs to know what's going on. It's better to be honest than lie to him. He needs to know that he will be in pain. He needs to know that he'll feel very sick and that he won't want to eat when the medicine gets inside of him. He needs to know that he'll lose his hair and that he'll feel very bad for a while. He needs to know that it's okay to cry when he feels bad and that you and Jamie love him more than he can fathom. This is going to be a difficult time for all of you. I will help all I can.

Lucy nodded and stood up. "I'm going to go get ready. I'll try to be more honest with him. He's just so young, you know?"

When the shimmering form nodded in understanding, she smiled and headed inside. Prism sat still and waited for the two humans to come downstairs. What he had told Lucy was his usual way of operating with children. Adults often tried to hide the cruel realities of the world from children, but what good did that do for children with terminal illnesses? They were going to die and lying that they would get better wasn't going to make their passing any easier. Most children that were lied to about terminal illnesses had a sense that they were going to move on, and they were often afraid to talk about their fears with their parents who so sternly told them that they were going to be fine.

Prism sighed through his nose. He rarely got to speak directly to the parents of extremely ill or dying children, so the lies continued until the very end. He had heard so many children talk about being afraid. But it wasn't usually death that they were afraid of. Children were often more afraid of the pain that their parents would go through once they were gone. Prism listened, gave them hope and courage, and then watched as many of his charges faded away through their illness. He tried to be present at the moment when they slipped away as often as possible. He hoped that Jackson wouldn't be one to fade away, but cancer was unpredictable.

There was a clatter behind him, and Jackson stopped to stare at him. He was so curious, and Prism smiled and stood up.

"Have you had breakfast?" he asked.

Jackson shook his head. "No. I'm not hungry."

"You should have a little something on your stomach," Prism said. "Do you like bananas?"

"Yeah."

"Do you want a shake? I can make one if you do."

Jackson thought about this. "Yeah."

"Run and ask your mother if she wants a shake."

Prism got to work while the boy went back upstairs to talk to his mother. He quickly prepared three shakes, two small and one large, and set them out. When Lucy came in, she frowned at the offering.

"I'm not hungry," she muttered.

Prism turned to Jackson, who was looking with concern at his mother. "Tell your mother that she needs to be healthy for you. She needs to eat just as much as you do. Not eating will not make her feel any better."

Jackson repeated what Prism said, and Lucy looked resigned. Prism picked up the two small banana shakes and handed them over to Lucy and Jackson. He picked up his own shake and held it up as a cheers then swallowed a large mouthful. Banana wasn't his favorite food, but he could stomach anything for the children he was around. Jackson took up his shake and began to drink it. Lucy was more hesitant, but she drank about three-quarters of her own breakfast before setting it aside. Prism reached for the notebook and pen and wrote out.

Thank you. Jackson won't want to eat much afterward. He'll feel nauseated. He needs a good example.

Passing the note over to Lucy, he set about washing the cups as Jackson stared at him.

"What race are you?" he finally asked bluntly.

Lucy looked up from the note and stared at her son. "That's rude to ask."

Prism laughed, and the woman heard a tinkling sound, like shards of glass hitting each other. It was a happy noise, and she smiled.

"You can tell your mother that I'm not offended. I'm not from Earth. I'm from outer space. I'm a Shadowling."

"You're from outer space?" Jackson asked excitedly.

"I am," Prism said. "But we'll be late to your appointment if we don't leave now."

Lucy heard the one-sided conversation that her son was having with a sparkling figure that had made them banana smoothies and that she couldn't hear who was apparently from outer space and was going to come with her and her son to a chemotherapy appointment, and she laughed. She leaned against the counter and laughed so hard that tears ran down her face. Jackson stared at her in alarm, but Prism placed a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"She's okay," he said. He could sense no fear from her, but he understood how overwhelming everything was at the moment. "Go get her purse and keys, and we'll leave."

Jackson hurried away, and Prism reached over and took Lucy's hand. Without words, he told her that it would be okay, and the jolt that passed between them was warm and soothing. She wiped her eyes and smiled at the form that she couldn't see, and she knew he was smiling back.