A/N So how long has it been? I can't believe it! Well, in my defense this chapter and the next part of Dixie's story required a lot of research. I wanted to get it right as much as possible. Reviews are lovely, and if anyone has any feedback or advice about the following story line, please feel free to let me know. You'll know what I mean when you read what's below.

I own nothing. Kudos to FX and Sutter. Per usual :) . Just Dixie, Maggie, and the chickens.

Chapter Seven

How did she get here?

Staring straight blankly still, as she waited, knowing what it was but praying that it wasn't that bad. She couldn't think about it but she knew it. Dixie refused to cry, refused to think about what this could mean for her, instead...she sat in the chair and waited.

Dixie instead chose to think about the chickens in the back of her yard. And Maggie's new and current theory about the stars aligning and the moon being in some astral coordination with something or other that meant that changes were coming. Changes. What kind of changes, Dixie wanted to fucking know. Life wasn't...

...shit really happened when it happened.

Tig had been in for a month and a half. Two weeks after his arrest he was sentenced for four months. It had been originally half a year, apparently the judge did not take kindly to his past record as he was a repeat offender, and the lawyers were able to get it remanded down to four months if he behaved. Dixie prayed that he would behave.

She was focusing on him, being there for him while he was away. Dixie really didn't give a shit about her stress level or anything. She had been under the weather before. It wasn't the first time she had put herself through too much. Whether it be working or partying or whatever, her body just sometimes sounded a few alarms and after she took a break and got some rest it went away. It was just the bodies way of complaining about shitty life. That's what she always figured. But, after fainting twice she had finally faced the reality that she needed go in to the doctor. She had put it off because she had shit government for poor women insurance and she didn't want to cause any alarm. The verdict had been originally anemia. Something they said she had most likely had trouble with earlier in life. It made sense to her since they said it could come out during phases of stress. But when they looked at the form she had filled out they started asking questions about her last breast check, how long had she been having discharge like that? Dixie wasn't uneducated, she probably figured she caught something at the Clubhouse. She hadn't even figured it was a thing but they had said that it was important to put everything down and it had been on the form to check off if she had had it...it wasn't even gross discharge. Just a little, nothing that ruined a top and never interfered with how she worked or how Tig enjoyed her...

Tig.

She tried not to think about him. She went to see him every chance she got and wrote him, even though she wasn't much of a writer. He wrote back but it was short and not very romantic. They weren't too terribly romantic of a couple. She talked about work, the latest stupid thing the Prospects had done, innocent every-day-shit that kept his tied to them, to their world outside of the prison walls. She hadn't told him that she had even seen the doctor, she had told him after they had given her the anemic verdict that she had anemia, that the Doc had given her pills, and that Maggie was forcing all sorts of organic food down her throat. Which was true. Dixie hadn't told anyone that they had insisted that she go in for testing, that there was a lump, that they were testing to see what it was, how far it could be. Not Maggie, not Bobby, or a soul.

Her excuse was that she didn't want it getting back to Tig without being able to give him answers, a plan of attack, an explanation for everything. Maybe she just needed to know what it was before she started speaking it out loud to her world.

It didn't matter yet, she was in the pristine waiting room for the frosted-haired nurse to tell her it was time to talk to Doctor about the final tests they had done to determine how bad it was. God, she wasn't even thirty. Did this shit really happen? Was it her fault? The drinking, the sex, the partying? The traveling, the dancing, the living life on the whim for all that time. Did she do this to herself? She hadn't known, Dixie really hadn't known that the small amount of discharge and possibly the anemia was a sign of...cancer? Really. Breast Cancer.

She thought it.

She couldn't speak it.

Dixie had mother fucking cancer in her fucking left breast. Also her lymph nodes. Dixie hadn't even known what a lymph node was let alone that it existed inside of her or could get fucking cancer.

Her old man was doing time. She had breast cancer in some form. And she wanted to scream, rage boiling inside of her except she was in the damn mother fucking waiting room and she really didn't want the Club or anyone to find out that she had cancer because they had to pick her up after she got arrested for disturbing the peace or something in a hospital cancer clinic. That shit would never work out.

Dixie flipped through a magazine and ignored the weepy eyes of a bald patient in front of her. She wasn't going to weep, she wasn't going to throw a tantrum...that was her mantra.

No tears. No tantrum. No tears. No tantrum.

No -

"Dixie -?"

"That's me." Dixie stood up in a shot and strode over to the frosted-haired nurse quickly. She wasn't in Charming so there was no fear of someone seeing her crow tattoo and whispering, or anyone recognizing her. She had to go into Sacramento to get tested thanks to her special medical insurance situation.

"Come right this way, honey."

The Nurse did the usual, took her weight and blood pressure and temperature. She was told she could keep her clothes on. It wasn't a take-your-clothes-off appointment. The nurse looked at her sympathetically when she asked if someone was coming with her and was shortly told no. Dixie had chose to do this alone. Once she told one person back in Charming...it'd spread all over and she needed to get a handle on it before...

Dixie didn't want to think about it.

She missed Tig.

Forty five minutes later a somber-faced female doctor came in. She had speckled glasses and short hair and was looking at Dixie's chart.

Dixie had gone through two mammograms, a semi-surgical procedure that involved a needle and her left breast, and a month's worth of waiting and holding onto a secret that was burning her from the inside. Hiding it from Tig, hiding it from Maggie, from the Club had made her feel crummy even though she knew it was the right thing to do for herself. She needed to know what to do, how to deal with it before she started the share-fest.

"So what's the prognosis, Doc?" Dixie asked, gazing at the Doctor square on.

Doctor Reed, the woman who had been overseeing her case since she came in for the biopsy, sat on the chair and smiled at her. "Well, Dixie. I see here that you have a mammogram, a sonogram, and we've received the biopsy results as of yesterday. How are you feeling, I understand that you must be feeling overwhelmed an-"

"Doc, no offense but please just get to it. I came in because I was fainting on the pole, wrote down about some random nipple discharge, a lump was found in my left tit, and now I'm sitting in front of you waiting for the info on how bad it is after being squeezed, jabbed, and groped for the past month. So...please, just info away, Doc."

She blinked a couple of times before giving her a rueful smile. She nodded, and looked at Dixie straight in the eyes before stating in a clear, calm voice. "Dixie, you have Breast Cancer. We have found a roughly three centimeter tumor in the deep tissue of your left breast along with evidence of the cancer in your Lymph Nodes. It is my opinion that this is categorized as Stage Two B Breast Cancer." Doctor Reed paused for a moment as she let her words sink into the quickly diminishing air in the room.

Dixie already knew she had breast cancer she just didn't know how far it was and the words the Doc was saying were mush to her. What did stage two mean? Did stage two mean bad or good? How many stages were there? She had read a little but the brochures had been so damn scary and she didn't really want to get caught reading them.

"What does that mean?"

"It means we have work to do. It means you'll need chemotherapy, surgery, and radiation. It means it will be a fight but there are worst advanced forms to have. It means you're young, you're strong, and you can fight this. It's going to take time, all of your energy, and every support that you have." She was told. The Doctor continued in educating her on what kind of cancer that she had, shared things about hormones and types and how far along she was. She talked about different kinds of chemotherapy and covered what Dixie assumed to be the general rundown on Dixie's brand of cancer.

The Doctor was giving it to her straight and Dixie was fucking relieved and grateful but she felt at the same time like she was hammering down on the final nail of her cancer coffin.

It was all becoming so crushingly real.

For a month she had been dealing with Tig's case, trying to forge her life without him by her side. The Club had been amazing, her position still stood – she knew it would. She didn't have any confusion about that. She didn't really go to the Clubhouse that often. It just wasn't the same and she was too tired after working to go. Then she fainted once, then twice. The first time it had at home. She had come home to the sounds of Maggie and some foreign Son inside of Maggie's room. She had come to on the carpeted floor of their sitting room, a few feet away. She must've walked over and then fainted. She told herself she needed to eat more meat, more vegetables from Maggie's garden. A little less coffee and a little more sleep. That it was the stress from all the changes and Tig going away. But it wasn't.

The second time had been on stage. Bobby had taken her home and called Tara who immediately came over and examined her. She had had a nasty cut on her forehead from the fall that needed taped up. Tara had insisted she go to the Doctor which led Dixie to Lodi which lead her to Sacramento for testing. When she came back from Lodi she had told everyone about the anemic prognosis. Dixie chose to keep the testing scheduled for her to herself. When the mammogram came back as positive, that there was a lump, they immediately got her in for more testing.

Apparently breast cancer in young women was statistically more aggressive than in older women.

Lucky her.

But as she listened to the Doctor in front of her she realized that she was also young and she was strong (despite her fainting ways). She had friends and someone she loved and who loved her back. She had a place in this world.

A girl could have less going into battle.

So she listened to the Doctor tell her to go to Charming and that there was a cancer specialist there that could help her. She listened to the suggested form of treatment and said that the specialist there would confer but their offices would coordinate an appointment as soon as possible. The Doctor was on the ball and Dixie was grateful. She waited as they called the hospital in Charming and coordinated an appointment for the following week. Tuesday, ten o'clock. She was told she should bring someone along.

Dixie left Sacramento, driving the hour or so it took to get back into Charming. She had to work tomorrow night so she had the night free. She wondered how she was going to tell anyone, how she was going to tell Tig.

"Tig, I know you're in prison and you're not getting out for another few months so this might be hard for you to hear but...I have stage two breast cancer in my left boob. Also in something called my lymph nodes. I'm not sure what the hell that is but I have brochures." She said out loud. She groaned and hit her palm against her steering wheel.

It just sounded awful.

Because it was.

The sound of the chickens clucking soothed Dixie as she curled up on the back porch and watched them peck at each other, at their food. The Doctor said that she would need to stay away from anything that could be carriers for diseases, anything extra that she could cut out of her life would be best. She hadn't asked if the chickens were a health risk. Once she started chemotherapy her body would be all sorts of frail and sick and she had to be 'diligent'.

Dixie really didn't feel diligent about any of this.

She sipped her coffee and groaned.

What if she couldn't have coffee?

She could have weed.

Thank God for small miracles, right?

"Hello, hello." Maggie's soft voice echoed as the back door slammed shut. "Where have you been?"

Maggie curled up next to her on their swing and stole a sip of her coffee. Dixie felt a faint smile etch on her face. Before she could think about it, before she could process the words coming out of her mouth she said it.

"I was at a cancer specialists in Sacramento."

Maggie was probably the most dreamy, most happy-orientated person she had ever known. She wasn't very good at being sad for too long. It wasn't that she was oblivious and it wasn't that she was stupid it was just that she just walked on a different field that everyone else. Outside of their part of the world, in the mainstreamed society, she wouldn't be able to make it. But she wasn't breakable. She just needed to be around people who let her be the way she was. That's what the Club, their world gave her. Maggie was a good girl. Just different. And she was an even better friend.

"Mags – I wasn't just anemic. They found cancer in my left tit and in a thing called my lymph nodes." She explained further.

Maggie's eyes widened, filled with tears, and her lower lip trembled. But she didn't cry. Instead Dixie found herself being hugged so tight it almost hurt. Warmth filled her and Dixie fought her own traitorous tears.

"Oh Dixie." Maggie whispered quietly. "I'm so sorry."

"I'll...they said I'll be okay...I mean. I'm all young and strong and the Doc seemed confident that I can beat this. But I have to go in and see another specialist and get it a treatment planned all lined up next week. At Tara's hospital. The Doc in Sacramento said I would need Chemo, surgery, and a round of radiation. The whole cancer fighting shebang, I guess." Dixie continued, her voice sounding distant to her ears. It was like she was saying it but hearing it from someone else's point of view. She took a deep, shaky breath and squeezed Maggie's shoulders. "I'll be okay and you're the first person I've told. So if you can keep it to yourself, I'd appreciate it."

Maggie withdrew, her eyes even wider. "But..I can't keep a secret from the Club. Dixie," Her voice lowered softer. "You're not just a girl anymore. You're an Old Lady and you're Tig's Old Lady. The Club won't like it it's kept from them that you have..." Maggie faltered for a moment before going on. "that you have cancer."

"I know." Dixie assured. "I just need to get my ducks in a huddle before I start -"

"Dixie, we're your family. The Club is your family. You need to let your family help you. Tig would want you to tell his brothers and let them help you." Maggie said in a voice wiser than Dixie had ever given her credit for. She kissed Dixie on the cheek and hugged her again. "I can go with you, if you want."

"I...um...I should probably tell Bobby. He's my boss after all."

"If he has your way, when you're better, you might be boss." Maggie said, her voice full of hope-filled confidence that Dixie severely lacked at that moment.

"I guess so."

Maggie released her and told her they could stay in for the night if Maggie wanted.

"If...if I see a member I'm going to have a hard time not saying something. So let's just stay in for the night and you can rest." Maggie insisted. "We can watch movies and I have some googling to do. I'm sure there are vegetables I could be growing or something that can help you beat this."

Dixie was suddenly overwhelmed with the suspicion that Maggie was going straight to her Tarot cards and her Astrology chart stuff.

"Yea. Let's just stay in tonight. Tomorrow I'll tell the Club." She consented, following her friend into the house.

The chickens clucked in approval of their plan. Or maybe familial support of her impending battle. They were very vocal of their every emotions, so it was hard to tell. At least, that was what Maggie told her all the time.