Jude tried not to bounce his leg as Dr. Shapiro shut the door behind the two of them. He didn't know what would or wouldn't work against him. Unlike his blood tests, which just wasn't up to him, one wrong move in the psychiatric evaluation would be on him.

"Are you comfortable in that chair?"

"Yes."

"So, Jude, you wrote down that you already did the initial medical tests and sent off the first blood test, is that right?"

"Yes."

"Have you been assigned an ILDA yet?"

"No."

"Do you know what the means?"

"Independent living donor advocate," Jude rattled off. "I did my own research."

"Okay, well, we're going to want to get you assigned an ILDA as soon as possible."

"Even if it turns out I can't donate?" Jude asked. "The website I read made it sound like I get assigned one after that kind of stuff is sorted out."

"No, that's not true. An ILDA is there to look out for you, make sure that no one is pressuring you into getting these tests or going through with the donation itself. An ILDA is an important person to have with you from the very beginning of this process."

Jude nodded. "I'm supposed to be completely honest with you, now, right?"

Dr. Shapiro smiled and nodded. He had a fair amount of dark scruff on his face and Jude watched the way that the light glinted off it, letting his mind wander for a second because he couldn't quite grow facial hair yet. "The goal here is honesty, yes."

"The only person pressuring me is me. I looked it up, I asked my foster mothers if they would help me. I didn't tell the person that I want to give my kidney too that I was doing it because I didn't want him to think of me as a failure if I couldn't donate."

Dr. Shapiro nodded slightly. "Okay. Jude, what do you think the odds of you being a donor are?"

"I did my reading. I know that, since I'm not related, the odds aren't in my favor. That doesn't mean I can't hope, right? And, I know that it's not just about being a match. I know that I'm a minor and that I'm a foster kid. I know that those are working against me too but I can't wait. I can't be patient because Connor will die before we turn eighteen. I want to try and help him now because now is when he needs help."

"So, Connor is a minor too?"

"Yes."

"What do his parents thing of your idea to donate?"

"It's just his father and I didn't tell Adam, just like I didn't tell Connor. I just asked my foster mothers. They're the only people I've told."

"Why do you think you're being so secretive?"

"It's not about keeping it a secret. It's, like, what you said about pressure. I think it will hurt more if more people have expectations. But, Stef and Lena – those are my foster mothers – they're just supporting me. I think that they don't think I'll be able to donate. But they're supporting me and that's what really matters. Them supporting me. So, the only person that's pressuring me is me."

Dr. Shapiro was taking notes on a pad. "What kinds of pressures are you putting on yourself, Jude?"

"He's my best friend. But I only got to meet him in September. But he's so important to me. Um, my life has really, really sucked and I can be pretty terrible of a person … but Connor's not like that at all. He's a good person and he deserves good things. He's been fighting this for a really long time and he shouldn't have to fight anymore. If I can help him, I want to help him. He deserves that someone helps him."

"That someone doesn't have to be you," Dr. Shapiro said.

"No," Jude agreed. "It doesn't have to be. If it had to be, someone would have made me do it. I wouldn't have had to do the research on my own and I wouldn't have had to convince my foster parents to let me get tested but that is what I had to do. I know it doesn't have to be me but why shouldn't it be me?"

"Do you know how many more tests are involved, Jude?"

"Yeah but I'm still looking up what they all mean. The first time I was on the internet, I thought it was just blood and talking to a psychiatrist and, you know, the physical but then I realized, they have to check my pee and do an X-ray and check me for cancer and a bunch of other diseases … and an EKG. The EKG is what I don't know what it is yet," Jude tacked on hurriedly. He felt like he was doing okay but he also felt like he was talking too much. It was the effect of the calm feeling room and the intent doctor.

"EKG means electrical cardiogram. What happens during an EKG is that electrodes are attached to your chest and are connected to a machine. It makes sure your heart is healthy."

"Does it hurt?"

"Not at all. It's regarded as a simple procedure so there's nothing to worry about."

"Oh, so the name just sounds scary," Jude mused and he wasn't sure that he meant to say that aloud.

"Are you scared, Jude?"

Jude leant back a little into the chair, taking a moment to think. He knew he was determined. He knew he was hopefully. And he knew that he was scared of Connor dying but he really considered Dr. Shapiro's questions, trying to think if there really was anything else he was scared of.

"Yeah. I think it would be stupid to not be scared, at least a little. I'm not scared of the tests but I'm scared of a lot of things. I'm scared of not being able donate – I read all of the websites, there were a lot of bad mental things that can happen to people whose donations fail. I guess that's what you're for. I'm scared if I am able to donate, it will go wrong. I talked to Connor's doctor a little bit. The risks are higher for him than the donor because the donor is going to be in perfect health. But just because I know that and just because I know that it's generally safe doesn't mean there aren't risks. It doesn't mean I won't be the one that something happens to. I'm scared of that. I generally have bad luck so, yeah, I'm definitely scared of that. It's stupid, I think, to not be scared," he repeated because he really felt that.

"If you're so scared, why think about going through it at all?"

"Are you trying to talk me into or out of it?" Jude asked. "I thought everyone was supposed to be unbiased. Let me make the decision. After somebody makes the decision that I can make a decision, anyway."

"I'm not trying to talk you out of anything," Dr. Shapiro said. "And I'm not trying to talk you into anything. My job is to make sure that you understand the risks and everything involved in choosing to be a live donor."

"I'm doing it because if I spent all my time being scared, I'd never do anything. I wouldn't so much as have him as my friend because I would be too scared to have talked to him in the first place. It's about being better than your fear or something, right? That's what I think a real therapist would say."

"Tell me more about what being friends with Connor is like," Dr. Shapiro requested.

Jude wasn't even sure where to start with that one and so he started talking about what it was like before Connor was sick, answering all of Dr. Shapiro's questions as he was prompted. Their allotted time began to slip away and Jude even thought that he was starting to breathe a little bit easier. He still couldn't be sure about what Dr. Shapiro was thinking, which was probably a good trait for someone in his profession to have. Jude just would have like to have had some indication on whether or not this was the end of the line for him.

"Jude, is there someone in the waiting room for you?"

"Yes," Jude said. "My foster mother, Stef."

"I think that you should go and get her. There are some things that we should all discuss together."

Jude's legs were shaking as he made his way into his lobby, gesturing to her to follow him back into the secluded little room. She sat next to him on the couch after introducing herself to Dr. Shapiro.

"So, I don't think that I need to tell you that it's going to be an uphill battle for Jude to donate, just as a minor and a foster child."

"Right," Stef said. "We understand that. There's a lot involved with being a living donor that we are still trying to get a handle on."

"I am going to direct you to a transplant centre, which is where you should have been from day one. They will assemble a team, specifically for Jude, including an ILDA. They will answer any questions that you might have, be able to guide you through the process. They're all experienced professionals and they will be just looking out for Jude, he will be their priority, and they will be entirely on your side. If you are eligible to donate, if you're not, and if you ever decide that you want to back out."

"How far away is this transplant centre?" Stef asked.

"Only a few miles away from here. It's not out of the way at all, very accessible to most people. They will be able to run the tests and get you through this."

"So, wait," Jude interrupted. "Did I pass?"

"Pass?" Dr. Shapiro repeated, clearly confused.

"The psych test, to be able to donate. Did I pass?"

"It's not about passing, Jude," Dr. Shapiro said, but he did seem to be slightly amused by the comment. "But, I feel as though you should be in contact with the transplant centre. I think that's the next best step for you. I'm not someone who can say that you can donate or that you can't but I can say that you fully understand the risks of donation and the reality of it. Because of your age, I think that you need much more counselling than an adult donor and I think the people at the transplant centre will agree with me. There will be someone there that is more well-versed in transplant psychology that will be able to work with you, especially if you find you're a match."

Jude nodded as Stef asked another question, leaning back on the couch because that sounded like a pass to him.

(-.-)

Jude doodled on the edge of his worksheet, looking down at the simple string of sums. He wasn't in the mood to do them and he readjusted himself in the hospital chair, looking up at Connor. Connor was laying on his side, staring back at Jude. He was lifeless today; he had barely moved since Jude had walked into the room, just looking around tiredly, though he had been trying to keep the conversation up. Jude could see how hard it was for him today but didn't try to stop him. He wanted to hear Connor's voice while he still had Connor's voice. He had thought that actually seeing the psychologist would put him on a high, make him full of hope, especially since he had, essentially gotten good news from Dr. Shapiro, but Jude didn't feel elated, not like he had expected to, anyhow. Seeing Dr. Shapiro, talking about his kidneys – something he had never really thought about in any detail before now – made things set in that much harder. Jude had always thought that he had been feeling the reality of what was happening to Connor, but he was coming to find that it wasn't true.

It all felt much more real now that he was involved and he wasn't just watching.

"Are you doing your homework?"

"No," Jude said, meeting Connor's eyes. "I can't concentrate."

"What are you thinking of instead?"

"Does there need to be an 'instead'? It's math. I think I'd rather be watching paint dry."

"Liar."

"Okay, maybe paint was a little extreme but I would still rather be doing anything else."

"You can. You can go camping or to an amusement park or walk anywhere. You can even go watch paint dry, if that's what you want."

"I'd rather just sit here, I think. Watch the clouds out of your window. It's a little more interesting than watching paint dry."

Connor half-rolled his eyes.

"Plus, you're watching me do math, which one of us is more bored?"

"You. I don't mind you watching you do math. I can't do it anymore, one of us might as well."

"It's math. We should just boycott it together."

"I'm not boycotting," Connor said. "I feel sick if I sit up."

"Is that the dialysis talking or is that just how it is now?"

"It's the dialysis. Normally, I'm sitting up, right?"

"Yeah. Normally, I'm with you."

"Sorry to kick you out."

"Me moving around will make you sicker, so I can forgive you that." Jude shuffled around again, putting his feet up on the edge of Connor's bed and tilted the worksheet again, drawing another square along the edge of his page.

"Forgive me the dying?"

"You're talking too much about dying lately."

"I'm trying to see if Jake's approach to humour worked. He just seemed better about facing it than I do and I want that. I want to feel better about it because I have to try and talk to Dad about stuff and that's hard to do especially if I'm feeling so down about it."

"I think it's a hard thing to not feel down about," Jude said, aggressively shading one of the squares with his pencil.

"That's true. Are you going to answer my question? Forgive me for dying?"

"If you die –"

"Jude," Connor groaned.

"No, come on. It's an if until you're actually gone, even though if is less likely than when."

"Okay, I guess that's fair," Connor whispered.

"If you die, I'll forgive you, as long as you do all that you can to live. Don't give up. No matter what, just don't give up."

"I wouldn't even think about giving up. I promise. I'll be here until I'm not."

Jude stared down at his page, drawing faint lines down the page, straight through the printed sums.

"You have to do it," Connor said. "Or Ms. Adams won't let you come. She'll think I'm distracting you."

"She wouldn't stop me from coming. I think she likes you more than she likes me."

"That's not true. You said it knowing it's not true."

"All right, yeah, I know it's not true," Jude agreed. "But she's known you longer. And you have the better sob story."

"It's because I look sick but you don't look damaged."

Jude's eyebrows shot up and he nearly dropped his pencil. "You think I'm damaged?"

"No. Well. You are, Jude. I didn't mean it in a bad way. Stop looking at me like that."

"Damaged?"

"I'm sorry. I really didn't mean it like it sounded. But, you've got stuff."

"Everyone has stuff."

"Yeah, but you have a lot of stuff. I know you, Jude, you've told me."

Jude curled his legs back into the chair, setting his homework aside completely. He looked at Connor, who at least looked sheepish about his comment. Connor stared back at him and then he stretched his hand out. His fingers trembled and Jude only let him extend it for a second before he took Connor's hand in his, keeping the both of them steady.

"I'm sorry I said it."

"Even though you think it's true?"

"I like you like you are. You wouldn't be Jude without a little bit of damage."

Jude could tell what Connor was thinking, even if he hadn't said it. He could see the I-love-you written all over Connor's tired face and for the millionth time, Jude thought about telling Connor that he knew. He thought about telling Connor that he had given away the truth while hazy and on drugs but it was fine, because Jude loved him too. Connor had so little strength left now. Maybe it wasn't fair of Jude to hope that Connor was the one to say it first; maybe Jude should.

"You've got to tell me you like me, even with the cancer," Connor said, a smile on his lips.

"Connor, I –" Jude's throat closed up and his mouth went dry.

"Even if it's a lie," Connor added, misreading Jude's expression.

"Well, it's –"

"Hey, guys! Jude, are you ready to go?"

Jude dropped Connor's hand and turned to look at the doorway where Mariana was standing.

"What? It's … There's still an hour left of visiting hours," Jude said.

"Moms sent me to get you early. Brandon's coming home tonight so they want to make sure everyone's on time for dinner. Stef said she mentioned it to you."

"She probably did, I'm just forgetful. Don't worry, I'll be ready to go in a second."

"Sure. How are you feeling, Connor?"

"Tired, breathing is hard, but my head feels clearer. Better drugs."

Mariana cracked a smile. "Well, look on the bright side, I guess."

"How's school?" Connor asked while Jude slid his homework into his bag.

"Same old, same old. There's nothing dramatic and fun happening, so, I've had time to think for once. Well, sort of. I had to take over Michael and Mary at tutoring."

"How are they?"

"Annoying. I don't know how you managed it. I think they learnt something from you, though. Mary seems better than I remember her."

"Good, that's something."

Jude finally stood. "I think I'm ready to go. You going to be okay until your dad gets here?"

"Yeah. As much as I like it, I don't actually have to be entertained by someone else every minute of every day."

"All right, if you say so. Maybe I'll be late tomorrow if that's true."

"You wouldn't dare," Connor said and then he gestured Jude down toward him. Jude crouched down, glancing at the door, where Mariana was tactful enough to step out into the hallway. "Don't be nervous about meeting Brandon. You were nervous about Mariana and Jesus and they both like you. It's going to be fine."

"I just wish I hadn't forgotten that I was supposed to be meeting him tonight." Jude exhaled heavily. "I guess I've just been distracted lately. There's too much to think about."

"What have you been distracted by?"

"Callie, school, getting used to living with new people, still. Everything you already know. I should go. I'll tell you all about it tomorrow, okay?"

"I'll be here."

"Promise?" Jude whispered.

"Pinkie promise."

Connor offered his hand to Jude again and Jude linked their pinkies together. He looked down at their hands.

"It wouldn't be a lie."

"Hmm?"

"If I told you that I liked you even with the cancer."

"Is that what you're telling me?"

"We'll talk about it tomorrow."

Connor let out a laugh and let Jude's hand drop. "Okay, whatever. Have a nice dinner."

"We'll see. Bye."

"Bye."

Connor lifted his hand weakly in a wave and then Jude was out the door, though he hated leaving before he absolutely had to. He fell into step with Mariana, who stared down at her phone, texting rapidly until they were in the car. Jude stuffed his bag down by his feet while she dropped her cell into a cupholder and drew her seatbelt across herself and put the keys in the ignition.

"Don't be nervous about meeting Brandon."

"Were you eavesdropping?" Jude asked, immediately on the defense, though there was nothing to get defensive about. It wasn't as though he and Connor had talked about anything embarrassing or anything that anybody else shouldn't have overheard.

"What? No. I'm nosy but I'm not that bad. I'm just saying, I know I was a little kid and you're a teenager, but I remember being a foster kid and biological kids are the worst. You feel like if they don't like you, then there's no way the family will keep you."

Jude looked out the window, silent for a moment while he gathered his thoughts and decided how much he wanted to confide in Mariana. He liked her; he just wasn't sure of how much of himself he should reveal to her. It wasn't as though they'd had a heart to heart before, just simple conversations over the dinner table around Stef and Lena and Jesus. "Yeah, you're right. He felt … not real since I moved in and now I feel like I let myself get too comfortable because I … I think you and Jesus like me. I hope you do. I just don't want anything to happen because I think … I think I like it a lot, living with you guys."

Jude came to a stuttering stop and looked over at Mariana, who had a little smirk on her face.

"Jesus and I do like you, I promise. Brandon will like you too. He's got an ego, not like Jesus. It's subtler. Brandon can be way more condescending than Jesus. He's more of a suck-up. Likes to think of himself as the good kid, even though I'm obviously the best kid."

Her vanity made Jude smile.

"Should I be worried?"

"No. Moms like you and Brandon's basically moved out. Even if he doesn't like you, they'll still keep you. But, be prepared for Brandon to be judgy. Ever since he went to college, it's only gotten worse."

Jude nodded seriously as they pulled into the driveway. He gathered his things and took a deep breath. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets as he followed Mariana to the door, trying not to think about his blue hair on the hand-me-down shirt from Jesus that he was wearing. He hadn't been self-conscious about those things before – he liked his hair and it was a simple black shirt so its hand-me-down-status shouldn't matter – but, despite Mariana's attempts at assuring him, Jude now just felt worse. Brandon wasn't going to like him and he could never be sure that Stef and Lena would want to keep a foster child in the house.

Mariana opened the front door and they stepped inside. Jude clenched his hands into fists as he kicked off his shoes.

"Mariana? Jude? Is that you?" Stef called.

"Yep!"

"Jude, come here," Stef continued. "There's someone we want you to meet."

Jude's heart plummeted. Brandon was already here?! Jude stayed behind Mariana, following the sound of Stef's voice to the kitchen. Mariana was shorter than he was and Jude kept a careful watch over her shoulder.

"Brandon, hi!"

Jude stopped cold as Mariana threw her arms around her brother – a tall, lanky man with dark hair and eyes. He lingered back against the wall until Stef gestured him forward, putting her hands on Brandon's shoulders.

"Brandon, this is Jude, our new foster kid."

Brandon extended a hand. "Nice to meet you. Sorry for kicking you out of your bed."

Jude faltered at the unexpected comment. "It's, uh, your bed …"

"Well, I'm not really using it, am I? Someone might as well be."

"Oh, thanks."

Brandon released Jude's hand from his own and Jude let it float back down to his side, studying Brandon without saying anything. Whatever he had been expecting, this didn't feel like it. He didn't know why he had expected hostile and angry from Brandon; it wasn't as though anyone at Stef's and Lena's had ever treated him that way. Mariana and Jesus had accepted him nearly as quickly as Stef and Lena had as part of the household. Logic would only follow that the other boy raised by Stef and Lena would be just as accepting. Perhaps it was just the vestiges of the other foster homes, maybe it was because he was staying in Brandon's room, maybe it was because he was so used to being scared that living without the fear was scary on its own now. If he didn't have to be scared, then who could he be? What could he say?

Jude didn't let his mind wander, though it was tempting to. There was too much uncertainty in the upcoming dinner to let himself get distracted by thoughts of the future.

The front door opened and Jude was relieved to know that it was Lena walking in. She, too, wrapped Brandon in a tight hug.

"How was the bus trip down?"

"Bumpy, annoying, but I lived, just the usual," Brandon replied. "Where's Jesus?"

"Running on Jesus time," Mariana scoffed. "I swear, if I find out that he was hanging out with Hailey –"

"You don't get to decide who he dates, love," Stef interrupted.

Mariana looked affronted. "We're twins. He's not allowed to disagree with me."

"No one's allowed to disagree with you," Brandon snorted. "That's not a twin thing."

The front door opened again.

"Jesus, you're late."

He stepped into the already crowded kitchen, giving Brandon a one-armed hugged, shaking his wet hair out onto Brandon and Stef. "I had practice! Figured you didn't want me coming home smelling like practice."

"For once, he has a point," Mariana sniffed, as though she hadn't been threatening harm before Jesus walked in.

"What's for supper? I'm starving."

The ringing of the phone cut through Stef's reply.

"Brandon, grab that, would you?"

He left the room and Jude waited for a feeling of relief that he was out of sight, but there was nothing like that, and he had to search inside of himself, trying to figure out if he was still tense or if he really didn't mind Brandon at all.

"We're sorry, Jude, but you'll have to camp out on the couch while Brandon's home. He's home so rarely it just didn't make sense for us to get another bed."

"No, I don't mind," Jude replied. He really didn't, but he would have said it anyway, because Lena looked so anxious over talking to him about it.

"Lena, it's for you," Brandon said, coming back and holding the cordless phone out to her. "Some guy named Adam."

Jude's knees went weak and he fell back against the wall, knowing that everyone was turning to look at him and Lena.

"Hello?" Jude watched her face turn to ash. Lena didn't say anything else into the phone. She just hung up and then turned to him, pushing him insistently by the shoulder. "Get your shoes on. We've got to go."

Jude breathlessly rushed back to where he left his sneakers, Lena hot on his heels.

"Lena, is he dead?" Jude asked, watching her hands shake as she picked up her car keys.

"Call as soon as you can," Stef said, but her words barely registered to Jude, because Lena wouldn't even look at him as she opened the front door.

"Lena, is he dead?" Jude cried, the front door shutting behind him, the sweetness of the night air feeling like an insult.

"I don't know," she whispered, and then she pushed him toward the car.

If you have a song that reminds you of The Island Of Misfit Toys and would like it to be on the playlist, send it in and let me know! I'd love to hear your playlist suggestions. This week's songs are: Raining by Of Verona; and Night Go Slow by Catey Shaw.

So, on tumblr I'm: we are all of legend now (with dashes between every word). If you want to find my replies to anon reviews, add backslash tagged backslash anon dash replies. If you want to see anything I post about The Island Of Misfit Toys, go to my tumblr URL and add backslash tagged backslash the dash island dash of dash misfit dash toys. Punctuation is spelled out due to Fanfiction's restrictions. If you're having any trouble accessing the tumblr content please send me a pm and I can format it for you in a different way.

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