December 21, 2014
Seattle Cancer Care Alliance - UW Medical Center
Seattle, Washington

The rules at the University of Washington Medical Center say that people who aren't hospital employees aren't allowed to go into staff-only areas. They also say that (assuming the first rule was ignored) those people definitely shouldn't just help themselves to whatever they find there. And they definitely say that anyone caught breaking those two rules will be escorted out of the building by hospital security.

So it kinda says something when I walk out of the medical center's second-floor employee breakroom (the one with the best coffee) holding two steaming paper cups, casually hand one to the security guard standing by the nurses' station, and nobody bats an eye.

"Here you go, Duane. Black, triple-sugar, as requested."

"Thanks, Max."

As with a lot of people here, Duane and I have an understanding. He lets me get coffee from the breakroom whenever I want, and in return I don't get him in trouble when I do it anyway. It works out well for both of us.

Walking purposefully down the halls, I try not to roll my eyes at the various holiday decorations I see or at anyone who wishes me 'Merry Christmas'. It's not their fault that I'm not feeling especially merry this year.

Ducking into the nearest open elevator, I hit the button for Chloe's floor and sip gingerly at my piping hot coffee while trying to ignore the annoyingly upbeat holiday music being piped in from god knows where. When the doors open to my floor, though, I find Doctor Morris standing there. All at once, I get the unsettling impression that he's been waiting here for me.

"Hello, Max. I'm glad I caught you," he says, stepping into the elevator beside me and pushing the button for the next floor up. "Do you have a few minutes to talk?"

"It's inside visiting hours," I point out, a little defensively.

I'd already been a common sight at Chloe's bedside since the end of October, keeping her company or, more commonly, quietly studying while she slept. If I'm honest with myself, Chloe's absolute insistence that I keep going to my classes was the only reason I ever left. Once the fall semester came to an end, I'd all but moved in.

The evening and overnight staff had tried to kick me out on more than one occasion, always without success. I memorized the routes hospital security use weeks ago, and the occasional short rewind is usually all it takes to run circles around them. I do feel a little guilty about breaking my promise to Chloe, but if using my powers is what keeps me by her side than I'm willing to deal with her disappointment, if it ever comes up.

Anyway, by the time the nurses would make their next rounds I'd always be right back in the chair next to Chloe's bed. Eventually the staff had come to understand that visiting hours were something that applied to other people and learned it was simply easier to leave me be.

"That's not what I wanted to talk to you about," he says, sounding a little less reassuring than I think he means to.

I glance at my watch. "I was going to take Chloe down to the garden."

He nods. "I can arrange for a nurse to take her down if you like. You can meet her there when we're done."

Now I'm really starting to get suspicious. "This is sounding less and less like a voluntary conversation."

"I'm sorry you feel that way, but it's important." The elevator doors open again, and he steps out into the hallway. "Please?"

"Fine." I do wish I didn't sound so cranky, but my back is sore, and sleep doesn't come easy these days. I'm pretty sure the crappy chair in Chloe's room doesn't help. Following him to his small office, I immediately spot Chloe's patient file laying open on his desk. I can't see exactly what's written on the top sheet, but there's enough red text on the page to make my stomach twist anxiously.

"Have a seat."

I ignore the offer, putting my coffee down and crossing my arms. "What's this about?"

Picking up Chloe's file, Morris sits on the edge of his desk and regards me sadly. "This is something I wanted to tell you first, because Chloe is going to need you."

My throat tightens and my heart seems to stagger in my chest. "Tell me what?"

"There's simply no easy way to put this. Based on her most recent scans, we've determined that Chloe's cancer has progressed to stage 4B. I'm afraid her condition is terminal."

I stare back at him, confused. I know all the words he just used, but for some reason the way he's strung them together doesn't make any sense. "I...I don't understand."

"Her cancer has spread too far. It's in her lymph nodes, both her lungs, and a CT scan revealed metastatic tumors in her liver, kidneys, and pancreas. It's moved beyond our ability to control."

"That's...no," I shake my head so forcefully that spots appear on my vision. "No. She's only done one round of chemo! Maybe a second round will be enough!"

"I'm afraid that wouldn't help." He pulls his glasses off to rub his eyes tiredly, and for a second I'm struck by how old he suddenly looks. "In all my years of practicing medicine, I've never seen a cancer progress so rapidly or aggressively. The chemotherapy infusions barely slowed it down."

"Then what about other kinds of treatment? I don't care how much of a longshot it is." I'm grasping at straws now. "There must be something!"

"I wish that were the case, Max. I really, really do."

"You can't just give up!"

"We're not giving up, Max. There's simply nothing left for us to do." He reaches out to put a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sorry."

I jerk back angrily, slapping his hand away. "You're sorry?"

"Yes, I really am. I know how painful this is to hear. Please believe me when I say it's just as painful to say."

"Bullshit! That is complete bullshit. What the hell do you know about painful?!"

He doesn't respond or even look surprised at my outburst, and something about that just makes me angrier.

"Answer me!" I'm feeling short of breath, and a faraway part of my mind suggests that I might be on the verge of hyperventilating.

"I've been an oncologist for nearly twenty years, Max," he reminds me, not unkindly. "I couldn't even guess at how many patients I've treated in all that time, but what I can tell you is this; I still feel every single loss like it's the very first. I swear to you that if there was even the slightest chance remaining, I wouldn't rest until the fight was won."

A tiny ember of shame rises from the confused grief clouding my thoughts. For six months, Doctor Morris had never been anything but a source of strength, determination, and support. I'm ashamed to have suggested otherwise. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to..."

"It's alright, Max. I understand."

There's a moment of silence between us, during which a terrible question rises to the top of my mind. And although I hate it with every fiber of my being the very second I become aware of it, I know it needs to be asked. "How...how long?"

He doesn't look surprised at that, either, but why would he be? He had to have known it was coming. "Chloe's cancer is extremely aggressive," he says, gently. "I'd estimate that she has few months. Maybe less."

"Months?" I can't possibly have heard that correctly. "Just months?"

He nods slowly.

"Her..." My throat tightens again, and it gets hard to speak. "Her birthday is on March eleventh. S-she'll be turning twenty-one."

His shoulders drop by the tiniest fraction, and I know what the answer is before he gives it. "I'm sorry, Max. That would be very, very unlikely."

"No..." It comes out in a whisper as I begin to pace around the small office. My next try is stronger. "No!" The air in my lungs suddenly feels like it's on fire; I need to get it out. "NO!"

I throw my fist without thinking, aiming at the nearest wall, and I feel something crack the instant it connects. "Argh!"

My rage evaporates as I cradle my arm close to my chest, and I look up at Doctor Morris with embarrassment. He frowns but, surprisingly, doesn't look like he's going to call security. Holding out his hand, he beckons me closer. "Come on. Let me take a look."

"Is it broken?" I ask, wincing as he inspects the joint. "It really hurts."

"I would imagine," Morris gently turns my wrist over. "Probably a fracture. Must've been some punch."

I glance at the pitifully small mark my fist left behind. "Sorry about that."

"Don't worry about it," he says calmly. "Anger is a normal reaction to this kind of news, and you aren't the first family member to pick a fight with a solid object. You probably won't be the last, either."

"But I..."

"I mean it, Max. Honestly, I'd much rather see you take your anger out on my office wall than say or do something that'll upset Chloe. I think you'd have a hard time forgiving yourself if you did that."

"Yeah." I swallow, still uncomfortable with how severely I lost my temper. "What now?"

"Now, I think we ought to get an x-ray of that wrist. If it's not too bad, you should be able to get by with a brace rather than a full cast."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know," he sighs. "The first thing you need to decide is whether you want me to tell her, or if you'd rather she hears it from you."

"I...I think it should be me."

"Okay." He nods slowly. "I'm still going to clear my schedule for the afternoon. If you change your mind, or if you and Chloe have any questions, I'll just be a phone call away."

Balancing a pair of plastic bowls in my left hand, I try not to think of the dull pain radiating from my wrist. Doctor Morris had been right on the money when he'd diagnosed it; my little temper tantrum had earned me a hairline fracture. It wasn't very bad, but I'd still be wearing a wrist brace for the next few weeks.

Shouldering open one of the doors leading to the Center's courtyard, I step out into the cold air and immediately spot Chloe in her wheelchair, sitting next to the courtyard's small frozen pond with a faraway look in her eyes. Walking over, I kneel down beside her and gently place one of the bowls on her lap. She jumps a little, surprised by my sudden appearance.

"Sorry," I try for a reassuring smile. "Didn't mean to scare you."

Chloe lets out a small chuff of air that I think is a laugh, slowly pulling down her now ever-present oxygen mask to speak softly. "Damn ninja."

"Guilty. I brought you something to eat."

"Oh. Thanks," she murmurs, picking up the bowl and poking at the food listlessly with her spoon. "What is it?"

"Oatmeal."

"It's orange."

"It's pumpkin pie flavored. Left over from Thanksgiving, I think."

She squints down at the orange mush. "That was, like, a month ago."

"I dunno. I guess they bought too much."

"I guess," Chloe echoes, but makes no move to eat. After a moment, she places the bowl back in her lap.

"Chilly today," I comment, as though it wasn't stupidly obvious. "Are you warm enough?"

"I'm good." Chloe nods, patting the thick blanket that covers her legs. "What happened to you?"

"What?" I follow her gaze to the brace around my wrist. "Oh, yeah. Don't worry; it's nothing."

"Seriously, what happened?" Chloe presses, reaching down to lay her hand over the brace.

"Unexpected trip," I hope my awkward laugh is enough to stave off too many follow up questions. "I stumbled running up the stairs."

"Is it bad?"

"Just a sprain. Nothing to worry about." I hate how easy it's become to lie to her.

"Max..." Chloe's voice is soft but scolding.

"It's nothing." I hold up my hand and wiggle my fingers. "See? It doesn't even hurt."

She eyes me skeptically.

"Honestly, Chloe. I'm alright."

A long moment passes before she seems to begrudgingly take my word for it. Sighing softly, she closes her eyes and leans tiredly back in her chair.

We sit in silence for a while, watching as a pair of ducks waddle back and forth across the pond's frozen water. Every now and then, one of them stops to peck at the ice, probably after some morsel underneath. I absently wonder how thick the ice is, and what could possibly be so appetizing that the bird would try breaking through to get to it. "I'm surprised those two are still around," I muse aloud. "You'd think they'd have headed south by n-"

"I'm gonna die, aren't I?" Chloe asks, though the tone of her voice suggests it's not really a question.

"W-what? No, you're..."

"I'm not deaf, Max," she continues. "I hear the nurses and doctors talking, and words like 'terminal' don't just get thrown around for fun."

"I..." My mouth works silently as I try to muster a response.

"It's okay, babe. I'm not scared."

I nearly shudder at the calm resignation in her voice. "I'm so sorry, Chloe."

"Don't be," she sighs. "It's not your fault."

"I know. I really do, but..."

"Don't do this to yourself, Max. Please."

"I...I wish..."

"Me, too." Chloe nods. Gently, she pulls my uninjured hand closer and laces our fingers. "We can talk about it later, okay?"

"But..."

"Let's just watch these stupid ducks for a while. Can we do that?"

"...yeah," I eventually respond. "Yeah, we can do that."