Chapter 21: Déjà Vu.
Disclaimer: I don't own the Fosters.
AN: Okay, so I said that in the future, I might return and post things to this story, and I decided that I wanted to take a short break from writing "War Paint", which has become complicated with three different arcs that I have to plan out and work on. I decided to revisit this story and write chapters for some of things that happened in the epilogue. This chapter deals with when Harry is diagnosed with Leukemia.
Friday, December 10th 2027.
Connor's POV:
I inserted my key into the door of my apartment and turned it, opening the door and marching inside, ripping the nasty shirt of my scrubs off once I had closed the door behind me.
"Juju! I'm home!"
"In the kitchen!"
I walked in a wrapped my arms around his waist, pressing kisses to the side of his face and neck. I stood there for ten minutes, just holding my husband, who was cradling a cup of coffee in one hand, and a glazed donut in the other. He turned around in my arms and kissed me softly. I responded immediately, my lips tingling the whole time. He pulled back and looked me up and down, eyeing my exposed chest and abs. He ran his hand down my chest, and I shivered at his touch.
"You took your shirt off already?" Jude asked, "Not that I am complaining. Snack and a strip tease. Perfect way to relax."
"Hahaha." I guffawed, "I used both of my pairs of scrubs today. The shirt of my scrubs that I wore home is drenched in sweat and other nasty things. You wouldn't have let me anywhere near you if I was wearing it."
"Long day I'm guessing?" Jude asked.
"Yep. Huge pile up on the freeway earlier. I was in surgery for four hours trying to put this kid's leg back together. I thought we were gonna have to amputate it. Then I had these two nurses almost kill one of the patients."
"How'd they manage that."
"Don't get me started."
"I want to know, though. Tell meeeeeee." Jude teased.
"Okay, Okay. Silly creature." I teased back, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "The man was allergic to morphine and I guess what I caught them trying to give him?"
"Morphine?"
I nod my head.
"Yep. Oh and I saw Danny and Harry too." I said.
"Really, why were they at the hospital? Danny tends to avoid hospitals at all costs." Jude said, slightly shocked that our oldest friend would set foot into a hospital without being sedated first.
"Well, Harry hasn't been feeling well lately. He's been feeling sick since Danny came back from being on tour for the new Iron Will album. Danny thinks he has the flu." I explained, "Harry wanted me to draw some blood and run tests just in case. I did the tests, I'm probably gonna get a call later with the results."
"Okay, what else happened?"
"Not much else. Couple of drunks admitted that needed their stomachs pumped." I said, "What about you? How was your day in the wonderful world of education?"
I laid on the sarcasm extra thick at the last sentence.
"I'm having my seventh grade class write their first research papers." He complained, "I assigned it on Friday, told them to have a written rough draft to turn in today. Out of thirty kids, 12 of them didn't do it at all, five weren't at the required length, and three were way too similar to be original work. The rest of them were decent, if a bit iffy on the formatting. I swear to god, some of these kids I have to teach barely know how to read, let alone write an essay. I mean, I know I was better than that at their age, and I was hopping around to different schools every year from being in the foster system! And don't even get me started on their penmanship!"
But I had to get him started on their penmanship, because Jude is extremely adorable when he works himself up into a furious rant.
"What's wrong with their penmanship?"
"Oh. My. GOD! It's like some of them have never even held a fuckin pencil before in their lives." He whined furiously, "There were a couple of drafts, and I kid you not, there were no spaces in between the fucking words! Everything was blurred together! I can read the doctors chicken scratch you call your penmanship just fine, but this was atrocious. I swear to god, a chipmunk on LSD could write better than some of these kids."
I snorted.
"A chipmunk on LSD? Really?" I ask, laughter coloring my voice.
"You know you love my weird comparisons." He returned.
"But, of course." I said, amusement thick in my voice, "Anyway what's for dinner?"
"I don't really wanna cook." Jude said.
"Neither do I." I said.
"Takeout?" Jude suggested.
"Applebee's?" I ask.
"Sounds good to me." He agrees.
"I'll order." I said, withdrawing my phone from my pocket and dialing the number.
"I'll start the XBOX." Jude said, bolting into the living room. My eyes trail after him, and I smile.
That was a tradition we had. Every Monday night we'd eat in front of the TV, while playing on the ancient XBOX 360 that I had kept from my teenage years. Usually we spent hours shooting zombies in Call of Duty, yelling obscenities at the television every time one of us was downed.
Twenty minutes later, we were sitting on the couch. Jude was eating a burger, well done with a large order of French fries, while I was eating chicken tenders and fries. My eyes were locked on the TV, and a chicken tender was dangling from the corner of y mouth as I concentrated on killing the zombies that were crawling through the busted barricade in the upstairs room of the bar.
It took us about twenty more minutes to finish eating, and we both looked exhausted.
"You wanna go to bed?" I ask him, "We don't have to keep playing."
"Yeah, let's do it."
"No pun intended, I'm guessing?" I joke. He raised an eyebrow, and reached out and dragged a finger from my collarbone down to the waistband of my sweatpants.
"You want to?" He purred.
Damn. Him.
"Yes please."
"Race you to the bedroom."
I couldn't have run fast enough if I had a jet engine attached to my back.
The Next Morning:
The first thing I noticed when I woke up was that my phone was ringing off the hook. I reached for it, fumbling for it before finally getting it in my grip and answering it. I grumble to myself as I notice that it's 1:00 in the afternoon. I don't like sleeping in this late, but when Jude and I stay up into the late hours of the morning having sex, it always happens.
"'Ello?" I mutter sleepily into the phone.
"C-c-Connor?" A voice sobbed on the other end.
I shot up in bed, knocking Jude off of me, waking him up.
"Whazgoinon?" He mumbled, "Who is it?"
"It's Danny. He's crying. Something is wrong."
"Danny?"
All that I got in response was a sob.
"Danny, what's wrong?" I plead, "Talk to me brother."
"I-I n-need you and Jude. Now. C-can I c-come over?"
"Of course." I said.
"B-be t-t-t-there in t-two minutes."
He hung up.
Sure enough, not even two minutes later, there is a knock on the door of our apartment. I rush to answer it.
Danny is a complete mess.
He is still wearing the same outfit that he was wearing when I saw him the day before. His hair was messy, and was sticking up in every possible direction. His eyes were completely bloodshot, and his cheeks were stained with tear tracks. His shoulders were shuddering with unconcealed sobs.
He launches forward and pulls me and Jude into a hug.
"Danny what's wrong?" Jude asked worriedly.
"It's h-h-happening again. IT'S HAPPENING A-FUCKING-GAIN !" He screamed hysterically, before he released us and his knees gave out as he sunk to the floor.
"What are you talking about?"
"It's H-H-Harry." He sobbed.
"What's wrong? What happened to Harry?" I ask, a enormous sense of dread forming in the pit of my stomach. "Where is he?"
"He's still at the hospital. They admitted him immediately." He said, crying frantically, "It was just supposed to be a normal visit to the doctor! I've seen it before, I should have seen the signs, I should have SEEN THE FUCKING SIGNS!"
"What do you mean?" I ask him, trying to stay calm myself.
"HE'S GOT LEUKEMIA! HARRY HAS FUCKING LEUKEMIA!"
Danny grabbed his hair, and he pulled. The scream he let out would haunt me far into the future.
My heart stopped.
I prayed that this was a joke. It had to be.
Harry? With Leukemia?
"I can't do this again," Danny sobbed uncontrollably, "I CAN'T FUCKING DO IT! I'VE ALREADY LOST GIDEON TO THIS BULLSHIT! NOW I MIGHT LOSE HARRY TOO? WHAT DID I FUCKING DO TO DESERVE THIS? I'M FUCKING SICK OF HOW EVERY TIME THINGS ARE GOING WELL, SOMETHING HAS TO RUIN IT!"
He launched to his feet, and launches a punch into the bookshelf opposite the front door. I launched forward and grabbed him from behind, wrestling him into an embrace. After fighting it for a few minutes, he sobbed into my chest.
"I should have noticed it SOONER!" He sobbed, "IT'S THE SAME FUCKING KIND THAT KILLED GIDDY! I CAN'T LOSE HARRY, CONNOR! I CAN'T! I'LL DIE WITHOUT HIM!"
"Harry is not gonna die." I said sternly, "There are a lot of new ways to treat this kind of thing. Gideon died fourteen years ago. Harry has a much better chance. You have to have hope, brother. With the money from your bands album and ticket sales, and from Harry's book, you can afford the highest quality treatment."
"I can't lose him, Connor." Danny sobbed hysterically, "I just can't."
"You won't."
"But what if I do?"He whimpered, "He's my husband. The love of my life. I can't live without him."
"Then we'll help you get through it." Jude said, "We'll help you. We'll hold you while you cry, and we'll cry with you just like we did all the years ago when you first told us the story about Gideon. We'll share the grief, just like we always have. Just like we always will."
As I listened to Jude talk, I thought about what he was saying. It was a task easier said than done. Harry was our brother in all but blood. I don't think any of us could bare it if we lost him.
If Harry dies, a large piece of Jude and I will die with him.
And if Danny loses him, he'll have nothing to live for.
I shared a look with Jude. He nodded at me. He knew what I was thinking.
It wasn't just Harry's life on the line.
Because if he dies, so does Danny.