I do not own Bates Motel.

But, in some ways, I do own a Dylan. And I love him so much.

Yeah, Whatever

Immortal

When you're happy, you feel immortal.

Like you can handle anything.

And Emma Decody Massett's life was very happy.

Ten years.

That was the top life expectancy for Emma's new lungs.

Ten years.

Not long.

Not long at all.

Don't think about it, she said.

We could die in a freak tomato truck accident tomorrow.

Or the world could end.

Or, she'd muse, I could beat the odds and outlive your brooding ass.

Then she'd kiss him, press those sweet, soft lips to his.

And breaking up the kiss, wrap him in a surprisingly strong hug.

Her lips close to his ear.

And whisper her tear-husky voice into his fearful mind as he closed his eyes against it.

"Don't think about that right now. Just think about today. Just think about us, our family. I love you."

And he never wanted to let her go.

"I love you too, Emma."

There were birthdays and anniversaries.

Vacations and holidays.

Illnesses and healthy, happy days in the sun.

They celebrated and they struggled.

Long quiet discussions. Stormy fights.

Though none as bad as what they had experienced during Norman's final days in White Pine Day.

They, in short, simply lived.

The best they could.

Until their time ran out.

Unsurprisingly, Emma time ran out first.

Only seventeen percent of all lung transplants survive ten years.

Emma beat that by another five years.

And when she did begin to exhibit signs of failure, she was thirty-three years old.

Dylan was thirty-seven.

And Katie was fifteen.

It didn't happen all at once.

It was a slow process.

She got respiratory illnesses more often, with increasing severity.

Her energy waned and a dull ache resided in her chest.

She spoke to her doctors about it during her visits.

They took notes, ran tests.

And confirmed the worst.

She went home and told Dylan.

And he bit down on his tears as they held each other through the first of many, long, dark nights.

No one could tell them how much longer she had.

No one could predict that she, with her determined spirit and stubborn willpower, would live another five years.

In and out of hospitals.

On and off of at home oxygen tanks.

Weekly, daily respiratory therapies.

Increased immunosuppressants striking her with an array of complicated, trying symptoms and side illness that she for the most part bore the brunt of with a grace that be wondered him.

And those few times when she did fail and falter, he loved her even more strongly throughout.

As she would have done him.

Emma Decody Massett was strong and determined and surrounded by the fierce abiding love of her family.

Her husband, whom she had stood by during the worst of times.

Her daughter, young and inexperienced in the hard, bitter ways of life.

But taught to be kind and giving by her parents who had loved and raised her together.

Her father, the aging Will, now in his late sixties, alongside his stable, supportive wife who was completely unlike Audrey in every way.

They gathered around her when she let them.

Ventured forth at her insistence.

And loved her always as she had loved them.

Loved them.

She did.

As much as she could.

As fully as she could.

As proudly and strongly as she could.

From the bleachers at the basketball games.

And the lawn at the graduation ceremony.

The company dinners honoring well respected, hard working employees.

In bed with her husband, running her fingers through his slightly thinning hair as they physically revived their love for each other again and again as they could.

They lived and loved and laughed and cried.

And eventually, she died.

It happened on a Thursday.

Intensive care.

Three days prior, Will and Katie had just departed, kissing and hugging their daily goodbyes.

Katie staying with her grandfather and Judith while Dylan, on temporary leave from work, haunted the halls of the the hospital.

And Emma, eyes sunken orbs in her hollow face, had gestured to Dylan.

"Come up here with me."

Carefully, oh so carefully, he transversed the wires and tubes and cords that were maintaining his wife's ailing physical form.

And wrapped her up in his arms as best as he could.

"Hey."

"Hey."

She didn't have the air to waste, nor the time.

And so she didn't.

"I love you, Dylan."

"I love you too, Emma."

Clinging to him, her bravery cracking in the face of imminently approaching Death.

"I've been so happy with you-"

"Emma . . . don't . . ."

"No, let me say this."

She paused, working to breathe.

"And then she spoke again, her voice a husky murmur only the two of them could hear.

"I've been so happy with you and our daughter is so wonderful. I never expected any of this and I'm so grateful it was you I shared it with."

She stopped and he thought she was done.

But she wasn't. Not Emma.

"Stay strong for Katie, okay? She needs her dad. Don't walk away from her. Don't fade away because you're hurting too much. But let her go when it's time so she doesn't . . ."

Turn out like Norman.

". . . feel bad for growing up and going out on her own."

Emma stopped again and Dylan could feel her heart laboring, her lungs wheezing.

He tried to heal it. With his willpower.

And his love.

But he was only a man.

A simple man.

". . . a good man," she was saying. "You're a good man and I'm so proud of you and how far you've come."

Because of you, he tried to say. You made me want to be better.

"Don't stay alone if you don't want to."

Are you crazy?

"But don't be with someone just to not be alone."

"Emma, how can you say that?" he questioned, voice broken. "There could never be anybody else for me but you. You're everything to me."

She smiled, weak and trembling.

But still strong in her eyes and soul.

"I know. I just want you to know . . . it's okay."

His tears were hot and fast.

And he could not bear to face the future alone without her. Not yet.

"I love you, Emma. I'll always love you."

"I love you too, Dylan. So much."

They lay cradled together for a long span of time.

And when Dylan Massett finally moved, she did not.

She had, nestled in the comforting cradle of her husband's arms, pouring out her love and remaining strength to him, slipped into a coma.

From which she would never awaken.

He stayed by her bedside as much as they the doctors and nurses would let him.

Holding her hand.

Reading to her.

Loving her.

Others came and went.

Dylan stayed on.

The doctors said she was out of pain.

Said that she would slip away in her own time.

And three days later, she did.

The Do Not Resuscitate directive made them let her go.

And Dylan Massett laid his head upon his wife's cooling hand.

And cried until he was empty.

Then he cried some more.

I love you, Emma.

I will always love you.

Thank you for saving me.

And then he got up and as per his beloved wife's commandment, tried to learn how to live life without her.

Until the day when they could be reunited once more.

Hey.

Hey.

It's been a while.

Yeah.

What'd I miss?

*cues 'Gone, Gone, Gone' by Philip Philips and ugly sobbing*

Here's the thing, gentle readers. I believe in Dylan and Emma. I believe they were okay after a while. I believe they were a happy family and raised Katie together well. Because they wanted it and worked together to make it happen.

Because with the exception of Britishness, CF, drug dealing and copious amounts of murder (just a little unconfirmed murder and several occasions of near), my husband and I have many similarities to them.

Oh but I'm totally gonna outlive him by, like, 100 years. ;)

And we're okay. So Dylan and Emma can be too.

Which is why I wrote this.

Your name is not Dylan and you don't drive a truck the size of Texas, but you are mine and I love you deeply. And I'm so proud of you and me and us. I love you.

Thanks for your time and consideration, gentle readers.

Happy reading of whatever. :)