Author's Note: Pfffffft, this was by far the hardest chapter to write, and undoubtedly the one I am the least unsure about. I'm pretty sure it's the one you have all been waiting for, so I really hope I've done it justice. Thank you all so much for the reads, reviews, story alerts and favourites and such things, they make me unbelievably happy – 27 reviews for the last chapter…you guys are AWESOME. I love you LL=W.
;;
Things are quickly spinning out of control.
Emily doesn't know how they ended up here: on opposite sides of a telephone wire with hurt and confusion and the possibility of an ending hanging in the space between them. Emily doesn't understand why she isn't by Naomi's side, holding her tightly and pressing kisses to all her self inflicted wounds in the naïve hope that they will sew themselves shut, be erased from Naomi's skin and her life altogether.
Emily wants to help, wants to fix things, fix Naomi and herself, by proxy (because when Naomi is hurting, so is she).
There is a lightness in her chest that feels a lot like hope when she hears Naomi's voice filter delicately into her ear, every I love you a suture that stitches her heart back together and makes her think yes, we can do this.
But, then.
Emily hears a voice that – these days – only ever wraps around words that are hurtful, degrading, full of a disappointment that strikes her somewhere low in her gut with such sudden force Emily wishes nothing had been said at all.
It is like hearing sound through glass, or the heaviness of water, and the words blur together in a mess of wavelengths so that Emily cannot make them out. She hears Naomi cry out, a crotchet note that splits something inside her; she imagines the wound bleeding freely even as the sound is muffled, into what she pictures to be her mother's shoulder.
(She's never going to like me, you know, Naomi had said, stretched out on the warm grass of Emily's garden, fingers playing with the hem of her bikini bottoms as she avoided Emily's eye. I'm not good enough for you.
Emily had sat up, shocked, reached for Naomi's hand where it lay beside her. You are, she declared, with all the conviction she felt in her heart, you are more than enough. She'll come around, eventually.
It wasn't a lie, exactly, but neither was it truth.
Emily took in the way the strong afternoon sun made Naomi's skin glow brightly like dove feathers – remaining steadfastly pale even in the heat of summer – half her face cast in shadow where her head was turned towards Emily, her blue eyes spotlight-bright and glowing, and she completely failed to understand how anyone could not be in love with this girl.
Emily had kissed Naomi then, because she'd never been able to do anything else. It was soft, slow, the touch of Emily's hand against Naomi's cheek feather light.
A sharp intake of breath from a couple of yards away had them breaking apart, Jenna's shadow as she towered above them casting Naomi into darkness, the sudden cold raising hairs on her skin. You're back early, Emily had said, the way her hand tightened around Naomi's fingers belying the strength in her voice.
Jenna's face had twisted with contempt, hard lines around her mouth like parentheses, just barely stopping venom from spewing out. Naomi had to avert her eyes, skin pricking with heat at the force of such disdain.
The fight had started, explosively, casualties all over the place, and Emily knew then – without a doubt – that she had lied).
Now, her mother's voice is soft like falling snow; Naomi's cries die down with every syllable, until the line goes dead and silence blankets Emily's room.
What could possibly have happened, Emily thinks, heart beating the rhythm of a grandfather clock against her ribs, to make her show compassion towards Naomi?
Emily thinks that it must have been something monumentous, groundbreaking.
A miracle.
Except.
Emily remembers where her mother is right now, where Naomi must be, too, and within seconds she is flying out of her front door and pounding the pavement, a blur of movement under the dying sun.
;;
From her spot on the floor leant up against the wall by the pay phone, Naomi is facing the massive glass entrance doors to the hospital, and she has a brilliant view of the world outside. It's late in the day, and the sun is sinking slowly behind the enormous buildings silhouetted against the sky, which is burning with reds and yellows, like a thousand fireworks have exploded along the horizon and their colours have been frozen in place. It is astonishlingly beautiful, so naturally, it reminds Naomi of Emily.
Jenna is silent beside her, her hands clasped together tightly in her lap, but Naomi can hear what she is thinking. She doesn't understand why Naomi can't bring herself to tell Emily, thinks it's cruel and unfair and just fucking awful. It is, and Naomi knows this, and would be absolutely furious if it were the other way around, if Emily was dying and didn't bother to tell her.
But Naomi doesn't want Emily to remember her like this; sick and weak, beaten down by her own body, a disease she is no longer strong enough to fight. Naomi doesn't want their days to be numbered, for all her time with Emily to be fraught with fear and the thought that each passing second brings her closer to death.
Emily would try to convince her to have treatment, and would hate her for refusing it, but that would be even worse; letting Emily see her be completely destroyed by chemotherapy, broken down and defeated by drugs Naomi doesn't think her body can handle for a fourth time, giving the redhead hope that she can survive, all for it to go wrong and kill her in the end anyway.
So no. That is not how Emily will remember her. Naomi will get out of hospital and go to be with her for however long she has left.
Emily never has to know.
;;
When Naomi returns to her hospital room a half hour later, she finds a group of doctors waiting to ambush her.
Naomi pauses inside the doorway, Jenna's arm around her shoulders, lets her eyes flicker over their determined faces as they stare defiantly her way. "You have got to be fucking kidding me."
Arizona steps forward, hands clasped behind her back. "Stop swearing. The tiny humans might hear you." She gestures behind her. "I've assembled the troops to make you see sense."
Naomi rolls her eyes – praying to God no one can tell she's been crying – and ambles into the room and onto her bed, pulling Effy up from where she's sat in a chair beside it. Naomi is grateful that Effy says nothing, just curls an arm around her shoulders and strokes her hair absently; she's exhausted, feeling incredibly weak, and speaking to Emily has started an aching inside her gut, her chest, her throat, and it tastes a lot like guilt on the back of her tongue. "Your concern is touching, really." Naomi's words are dripping sarcasm. "But I already told you, I'm leaving – I'll do the fucking psych consult, but then I'm out of here."
"That's really not a good idea," Callie begins, standing at Arizona's side, "without treatment – "
Naomi cuts in before Callie can finish, because hearing it out loud might kill hear. "Look, I get that you care, but I've made up my mind for fuck's sake. Don't you people have lives to save?"
"Yes," declares Meredith Grey, one of the interns, raising her eyebrows pointedly. "We do."
Naomi grimaces, because really, she walked right into that. "You have other patients that you should be helping, and who bloody want your help. I don't. So please, just fucking leave me alone."
It's getting incredibly difficult to keep this mask of indifference in place, to act like she doesn't care and that she's fine with dying, because these people – these wonderful, amazing people who she's known since she was a child and who have fought to do everything they can for her for almost all of her life – look so fucking disappointed in her that Naomi almost cracks.
Almost.
"You have acute promyelocytic leukemia, and it's in the advanced stages," states another intern, Cristina Yang, when the silence stretches on a little too long. "If you leave, you'll be back again in a few weeks due to haemorrhaging. And then you'll probably die."
"Yang!" yells Bailey, the Chief Resident, glaring at the asian woman. "A little patient sensitivity please!" Bailey locks eyes with Naomi, who tries very hard to pretend her pulse isn't fluttering like dragonfly wings beneath her skin at Cristina's words, which feel like bullets punching holes in her organs. "She's not wrong, though," Bailey adds sadly, eyes soft and shiny like new pennies.
Gina sighs shakily from her place at Naomi's bedside, stares her daughter down with an expression that is half angry, half pleading, and completely heartbroken. "Please, love. You have to try." Her voice is breaking on every word, and Naomi can almost feel how her mother is tearing at the seams. "All those other times before, when you were younger, and the prognosis was fucking awful, we didn't think you'd make it – but you did. You've had an extra fifteen years, got to live a life that I thought would be cut short before I got the chance to know you. But I've seen you grow up, and you've made my life pretty fucking wonderful, even when you were being a little shit. And I'm not ready for you to go yet," Gina whispers, wiping her eyes with her sleeves, and Naomi feels tears of her own spill down her cheeks. "I know it's selfish of me to want to keep you here, when you don't want to be – although I don't believe that for a second – but I don't care. I don't fucking care, because I can't let you go."
Naomi swallows hard, forces everything she wants to promise to her mum back down her throat and into her lungs, breathes it all out as air; it fucking burns as she does it, but Naomi can't tell her mum she'll fight, no matter how much she wants to, because when she fails it'll just hurt that little bit more. Naomi takes a deep breath. "I'm sorry," she says, because she really fucking is, and there's a stabbing pain between her ribs when Gina's face falls. "I just can't."
That's when it hits her, with a finality that threatens to break her bones with the force of its impact.
She is going to die.
;;
The second the lights turn amber, Emily guns the moped and speeds off along the tarmac at least ten miles above the speed limit; she is sorely tempted to run red lights, crash into the backs of cars, because although it's stupidly dangerous and she'd probably get herself killed, at least an ambulance would get her to hospital faster.
Emily feels overwhelmed with blind panic, trying desperately to think of perfectly normal reasons why Naomi would be in the hospital: a broken bone, a sick relative, a campaign for fairer wages for nurses, volunteering to help out on the kid's ward.
Except.
Naomi has been cutting herself, badly, and the way she was talking on the phone sounded a lot like goodbye.
Emily has tried to avoid thinking about it, but the thought explodes in her head with such force that she nearly falls off the moped because she's shaking so hard.
Naomi might have tried to kill herself.
Emily chokes out a sob and floors the accelerator to a concerto of blaring horns and angry voices.
Then she starts praying.
;;
"What?"
Naomi snaps her head towards Jenna, who she had forgotten was even in the room. She looks furious, her dark eyes heated and narrowed near to slits. "You're not getting treatment?"
Oh fuck.
"Nurse Fitch? Aren't you supposed to be working in the pit today?"
"Fitch?" chorus Effy and Gina.
Double fuck.
"Yes, Fitch. She's Emily's mum."
Gina looks both shocked and angry – she's been witness to a good few of Emily's breakdowns over her mother's intolerance, and in her frustrated state is more than likely to lash out – and Naomi shakes her head at her firmly, internally praying she doesn't say anything. Effy looks guilty, her eyes wide and scared, and Naomi thinks, oh right, she smashed Katie's head in with a rock.
Brilliant.
"So, let me get this straight," Jenna begins angrily, ignoring everything that's just been said and advancing further into the room. "Not only are you not telling Emily you have leukemia, you are also going to just let it kill you?"
Naomi doesn't have an answer for that, because the truth is she's being a cunt and she knows it.
"What the hell are you playing at?" Jenna shouts, making everyone in the room jump. "Do you have any idea what it would do to Emily if you died? Do you even care?"
"Of course I fucking care!" Naomi snaps, sitting up in bed to face her properly, suddenly blinded with rage, because the only reason she's doing any of this is because of how much she loves Emily.
"Nurse Fitch!" cries Bailey, stalking towards her, looking vaguely terrifying despite what a small woman she is, "you do not talk to the patient like that, you understand me? Now go, you have work to do, and you have no business being here!"
Jenna ignores her. "I'm not leaving."
"Excuse me – "
"I know this patient, Dr Bailey." Naomi has never found the Scottish accent more scary. "She knows my daughters, Katie and Emily. Neither of them are aware that she's here, that she's sick, or that she's going to throw away her life without fighting to keep it." Jenna's eyes are so much like Emily's that it hurts Naomi to look into them, but she can't stop herself. "It would destroy them if she died."
"Shut up," Naomi snarls, shaking off the hand Effy places on her shoulder to try and calm her. "Why do you even give a fuck? You hate me, remember? You hate that I'm with Emily, that I 'made her gay' – you told me to stop putting ideas in her head and demanded that I disappear. Well this is me disappearing!" And fuck, she's crying again, but she's far too tired and angry to care. "So you can be happy now, okay? I'll be dead and unable to corrupt her any longer, just like you always fucking wanted."
Shame colours Jenna's cheeks cherry red, and Callie and Arizona are looking at her in a way that makes Naomi painfully regret everything she's just said. "I never wanted you to die, Naomi," Jenna fires back, voice tight and gravelly as she bites back tears. "What I did was wrong and selfish. But so is what you're doing now. Emily loves you and she fought so hard to be with you. All of that was for nothing, if you just give up now. If you love her, you need to fight for her."
"Don't," Naomi cries, all the fight draining from her suddenly and leaving her empty, save for the guilt she can feel in every inch of her skin. "Please just don't." She rubs at her face with her hands, pressing her fingers hard into her temples to try and get her brain to shut the fuck up. "I love her, I do, so fucking much. I just – I don't want her to see me like this. I don't want her to realise what a fucking failure I am."
Because she'll leave. Just like he did.
And that's what this is all about, Naomi knows, keeping this secret from Emily; her father left her to fight without him, abandoned her when she needed him the most. He let the leukemia define her and couldn't look past it to see the scared little girl underneath, who he saw as imperfect, flawed, a disappointment who would never meet his expectations of the perfect daughter. She failed him, and he stopped loving her.
(It was him that had spotted the bruise that signalled her third relapse. His fingers had frozen over the skin of her arm as she cuddled into his side on a cold winter's evening, wrapped up together in an armchair in front of the fire.
What did you do, poppet? He'd asked, voice so tight around the words they sounded strangled, muted.
Naomi swallowed, unable to tear her eyes from the ugly purple mark. I don't know, dad. His grip on her tightened until it was almost painful. I don't remember.
Silence stretched between them for long minutes, thickening the air. It's okay, Naomi. Her father's smile was fake, forced. It's probably nothing.
It wasn't, and in the battle that followed, Naomi suffered losses too heavy for her to fathom).
Naomi couldn't stand to have Emily look at her the way he had done, like she's damaged and broken, not worth hanging around for; losing Emily like that is far more horrifying than leukemia ever could be.
Naomi feels fingers ghost over the skin of her left arm, tracing the bruises and the cuts with the lightest touch (it burns like it did the first time). She turns her head to the side to face Gina, and finds understanding glistening in her eyes.
"Emily's not your father, Naomi. You know that."
No, Naomi thinks, staring at the blue in her skin as her throat tightens. No, I don't.
;;
Emily ditches her moped somewhere in the parking lot and races towards the hospital's doors, a stitch weaving its way between her ribs; she arrives at the reception desk with her lungs burning from lack of oxygen, and somehow manages through panting breaths to ask if Naomi Campbell has been admitted.
"Are you family?" the receptionist asks.
Emily says yes without hesitating, because it's one of the few truths she's still sure of.
"Room 314, on the third floor."
"Thank you," Emily replies, even as her heart is sinking into her stomach, because Naomi is here, and she's hurt, and Emily is fucking terrified about what she has done to herself.
Emily runs up glass staircases and along corridors, her heartbeat a gallopping riff in her ears, crossing her fingers and wishing with everything she has that she's not too late.
;;
The second Emily sees her, sees her chest rising and falling as she inhales and exhales oxygen from her lungs, Emily can do nothing but kiss Naomi until they're both breathless.
Emily doesn't care that there are half a dozen other people in the room, including her mother, nor does she care that the way she is straddling Naomi's hips is entirely inappropriate. The only thing that matters is the way Naomi's lips feel against hers, the soft give of them beneath her tongue. She tangles her hands in blonde hair, sighs against her girlfriend's mouth when she feels hands stroking the small of her back, and buries her head in Naomi's neck when they break apart.
"You're okay," she chokes out, pressing light kisses to Naomi's shoulder, which is slippery with her tears. Naomi feels like something is caught on her heart, and in trying to tug itself free the muscle will be ripped from her chest, because no, she is not okay. Far fucking from it.
Emily sits back further on her legs, pulls Naomi's hands in front of her and interlocks their fingers; she visibly sighs with relief upon discovering that there are no bandages on her wrists, no bloody cuts or open wounds. "I thought you'd tried to hurt yourself," she whispers, not meeting the blonde's eyes. "The things you were saying on the phone, it sounded like – Christ."
Naomi feels like an enormous cunt then, because Emily thought she had tried to commit suicide, probably convinced it was somehow her fault, all because Naomi is a fucking lying coward who doesn't deserve Emily at all.
Naomi hates herself for it, but she's still desperately searching for a lie she can tell to keep this a secret from Emily, because telling her the truth is only going to destroy them both.
"I heard you talking to mum, and figured you must be here. I freaked the fuck out – I didn't know what to think. I was terrified that something had happened to you." Emily's eyes crease at the corners, her brow furrowing as she asks for an answer Naomi would do anything not to give. "Why are you here?"
Naomi opens and closes her mouth, feels the muscles in her throat contract and relax as she tries to force out words. Fuck, fuck, fuck –
"Just tell her the truth, Naomi."
Emily's glare towards her mother is vicious. "Stay out of this."
Effy stands suddenly, attracts everyone's attention, and looks directly at Naomi as she speaks. "We'll be outside if you need us." She gently touches her lips to Naomi's cheek and squeezes Emily's shoulder, before pointedly locking eyes with everyone in the room and exiting through the door, waiting for them to follow.
Jenna hesitates as the others file out obediently, the desire to be there for her daughter when her world is torn to shreds around her overwhelmingly strong. Gina shuffles towards her, the picture of a broken woman with her red and lifeless eyes, and there is a moment of implicit understanding between them – they cannot save their children from this, for they have grown up and no longer look to them for guidance. Naomi and Emily must take care of each other.
Finally they are alone, and Emily's heart is being tightly squeezed by all the pressure that's built up in her chest from not knowing what the fuck is wrong with Naomi, and then she's crying and begging her to just fucking tell her already. "Whatever it is, we'll get through it together, Naoms." Emily pushes their foreheads together, feels herself cry a little harder when Naomi's eyelashes flutter against the swell of her cheek. "I'm here."
Yes, you are. But for how long?
"Emily," Naomi murmurs, sliding her arms around her waist and pulling her impossibly closer, savouring the feel of her body flush against her own, the softness of her skin and the smell of her hair, just in case this is her last chance to do so. "Do you remember the first time we kissed?"
Emily sighs shakily. How could I forget? She doesn't trust her voice not to crack around her words, so she simply nods slowly, wondering what this has to do with anything.
(It had been bitterly cold that night, the sting of the air a lovely respite from the heat of a hundred or so drunk teenagers pressed close together in the house, and the dewy grass had cooled the backs of Emily's thighs as she'd sunk to the earth next to Naomi, offered her a bottle of vodka she'd stolen from the kitchen.
(The sneaky glances and shared smiles across classrooms and corridors had gone on long enough, and Emily was just about bursting with the desire to make something happen).
Thanks, Naomi smiled as she took a long pull from the bottle, her belly burning pleasantly when the alcohol settled in her stomach. She glanced at Emily to pass the spirit back, found her smiling shyly and much closer than she was expecting; her eyes were fire bright, and Naomi felt her skin heat up at Emily's proximity.
I've never seen you at one of these parties before, Emily observed, sipping gently at the drink. At Naomi's raised eyebrow and faint smirk, she blushed, and added, not that I've been looking for you, or anything, I just – well.
Naomi grinned, plucked the vodka from between Emily's fingers. I've never been to one of these parties before, she said, smoothing her hair back self consciously when she noticed Emily staring at her intently (it was still growing back, and fell about two inches short of her chin). But tonight, she continued, facing the redhead more fully, I'm celebrating.
Emily's smile stretched a little wider. What are you celebrating?
Life, Naomi replied, thinking of how close she'd come to losing hers. It's too fucking short. I want to enjoy it while I can, seize the fucking moment or whatever. Do whatever I want, you know?
Yes, Emily answered, shifting closer. You have to take what you want when you have the chance, because you might never get it again.
Naomi swallowed, registering how close Emily's face was to hers. She dropped her eyes to Emily's pretty little mouth, and bit her lip as the redhead ran her tongue along her own.
Yeah, Naomi breathed, heat pooling low in her stomach as Emily's hand stroked the slope of her neck, eyelids fluttering shut as Emily closed the distance between them).
"I told you I was celebrating life." Naomi's smile is shaky, nostalgic. "The last couple of years had been really shit, and then suddenly I was told that I was fine, and it was over. And I was so, so happy, and I went to that stupid party and we kissed and it was like I was starting over, living for the first time in fucking years. And yeah, okay, so it all went kind of shit after that, but you changed everything, Em. You fucking…you are everything to me.
"But I'm not fine anymore. It's not over." Naomi chokes on a sob. "I might not even have a life to celebrate for much longer."
Emily presses her lips together as hard as she can to keep from screaming, shakes her head from side to side as if it can change the horror of what Naomi is telling her. "Naoms," she says, and kisses her even as her heart is tearing in two, "what's wrong with you?"
There is something breaking in Emily's eyes, and Naomi thinks of ripping off a plaster incredibly fast to make it hurt less before she opens her mouth and the truth spills out.
"I have leukemia," she breathes, and Emily feels like her organs have been clawed from her body and left her hollow and empty; the sound that fires up her throat doesn't even come close to words, and Naomi thinks that plaster thing is bullshit because there's just no way this could ever be painless. "This isn't the first time, and that night we kissed I was celebrating because I was in the clear and the cancer was gone. But now it's back."
Emily crushes her hands to her mouth to stop herself from vomiting, her tiny frame convulsing with sobs as it dawns on her that Naomi could fucking die. "I'm so sorry, Em, I'm so fucking sorry."
Emily looks at Naomi, and for the first time ever wishes she wasn't so fucking in love with her that she can't think straight, because the way Naomi looks right now, so small and lost and absolutely fucking terrified, is killing her. She locks her hands together at the back of Naomi's head and kisses her with everything she has, and Emily tastes the sorrow on her tongue.
Emily pulls away then, because Naomi has to know that she'll never let her go.
"It's okay, Naoms," Emily whispers, even though it's not. "You'll get better, just like before. We can do this together." Naomi's face slackens with shock, like she can't believe what Emily is telling her. Emily stares deeply into blue and tired eyes, and makes Naomi a promise she could never break. "I'm not leaving, Naomi, I'm not going anywhere. I fucking love you, and we will make it through this together."
When Emily feels Naomi collapse against her chest, her face resting a few inches above her heart, she kisses the top of her head and makes a silent promise to herself that she will do everything in her power to keep Naomi with her, where she belongs.
Except.
Emily feels something hot and sticky on her chest, soaking through her shirt, and then Naomi is twisting away from her and wretching, and Emily watches in horror as bright red blood spills from her mouth like a fast-flowing waterfall, the bedsheets coloured crimson as Naomi starts bleeding from every fucking orifice she has and screaming in pain.
Emily screams for help and reaches out for her, her promise breaking as Naomi slips away.