Live Like You were Dying

A Difficult Decision

Disclaimer: I own no one!

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Randy gazed over at Rhiannon's sleeping body. How could he be giving up life? He still had so much to live for. He wanted to watch Rhiannon grow up. He wanted to drive her to her first day of school. He just wanted to be there for everything in her life.

Gazing to John, he gave his husband's hand a light squeeze. Gazing deep into his eyes, he searched for some hint of emotion. What was he thinking? Was it about him? Was it about their life? Or the news they had just gotten?

"I understand if you want to leave" Randy muttered softly, gazing out of the car window, his eyes falling on the starry sky. "Take Rhiannon and be happy, without worrying when I'm going to die,"

John swerved to the side of the road, causing Randy to go forward against his seatbelt. He unbuckled his belt and slipped his arm around his husband. Shaking his head, he sighed.

"I would never leave you, especially when you needed me." He said. "The doctors back at Sloan Kettering gave you the idea of that new treatment and it sounds promising,"

Randy nodded. He had to admit that it did sound promising.

Randy wasn't sure what the new treatment was called. He couldn't remember other than it was a really long name that was hard to pronounce. The doctors told him it was the latest treatment and it could put him into remission. Was it even worth the chance?

"I don't know," he muttered, coughing. Pain seized his chest, causing him to double over. "I've accepted my fate," He sighed. "I'll consider it,"

Randy wasn't sure how long they stayed on the side of the road. He didn't care though. He wanted to think. Would his life be prolonging for a few precious months?

Before long he dozed off.

"Wake up, you schmuck,"

Opening his eyes, Randy struggled to focus on the blurred head of his husband. Where were they? Why was he a schmuck? Better yet, what was a schmuck?

"What's a schmuck?" he groaned, closing his eyes again. His neck ached and his back was killing him. However, he still wanted to sleep.

"A schmuck is an idiot. Come on. Get up. You need to eat," John muttered, unbuckling Randy's seat belt. "Rhiannon won't eat without you there" Randy stood up, struggling out of the car. He couldn't help but notice John was holding their sleepy eyed three-year-old.

"Papa!" she squealed, holding her arms out. Randy chuckled, loving how the child seemingly awoke after seeing him. "We're in…" She gazed at John.

"Mystic," John said. Rhiannon nodded. Randy looked towards John.

Mystic? He mouthed, almost positive it was almost nowhere close to any of the possible routes that would take them home. John nodded, smirking.

"I thought Rhiannon would get a kick out of the whales," he admitted. "Belugas… they were my favorite growing up," Randy raised an eyebrow. "Besides, with you sick, I wanted to get a few happy memories into the mix," Randy nodded.

"Rhiannon, two bites," Randy pleaded, glancing down at the uneaten pancakes. He didn't know when but Rhiannon had gotten so picky lately. "Two bites and then we'll see the whales,"

Leave it to us to have the kid who won't touch pancakes but loves tofu, he thought, sipping orange juice. Recently, he had no taste for breakfast. In fact, eating too early tended to make him sick. He wasn't sure if it was the cancer or just his changing body.

"Papa, eat!" she squealed, pointing to the cakes soaked in syrup. Randy gulped. Eat? "I eat if Papa eat!" Silently, Randy exchanged a look with John. There was no way he could eat.

"Two bites for Daddy?" John asked, nodding to tell Randy he understood. "Daddy eat?" Rhiannon shook her head. Randy groaned, knowing what he would have to do. He would gladly get sick for Rhiannon's sake.

"How are you feeling?" John asked in a low whisper. Randy shook his head, signifying now was the wrong time to talk. He was afraid if he opened his mouth, he would vomit everywhere. He thought he might need to bring this up at his next doctor's appointment. The inability to eat breakfast was definitely not normal, especially for Randy, who had once thrived on a steady diet of chocolate croissants and cappuccino with his husband every morning.

Randy was grateful, when John, pulling Rhiannon by the hand, called that they would meet him at the front gate. Hunching over a grate, he emptied the contents of his stomach. Hands resting on his knees, he struggled for breath.

After his stomach had settled and his mouth was rinsed, Randy slowly hobbled toward the gate. He couldn't wait to see his family.

Later on, Randy was taken back by the awe in Rhiannon's face as she saw the beluga whale for the first time. He couldn't really explain what the childish innocence did to him. All he knew was that the reaction brought a smile to his face. What was so sweet about the childlike innocence?

How could he actually consider leaving this sweet girl? What would life be like for her without her beloved Papa? Could he even consider not taking the experimental treatment, knowing it could prolong his life and his time with Rhiannon?

"Papa, look at the Beuga!" Rhiannon exclaimed, mispronouncing the word in the way only a child could. Randy nodded, watching the big whale swim.

How could he really be expected to leave his princess?

Maybe the experimental treatment was worth it…

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX