Let's play spot Team TARDIS...

Sometimes Elliot looked back and wondered how he'd managed to keep up hope for as long as he did. Maybe it was the motivation he received from church or maybe his parents insisting that the treatments would work this time. He'd been battling cancer all his life but he had never occurred to him that there might never be an end to it. Yet no matter how long he was healthy, sooner or later he'd be sick again and he'd be right back in the hospital.

He was a boy. He wanted to do boy things, like riding his bike and going to school and getting in trouble for something silly. He was also one hundred percent a person. Like the grownups just smaller. But they'd forgotten. Or maybe they'd never really thought it to begin with. After all, they'd never asked him what he thought about his cancer and the treatments and spending most of his life in the hospital.

The cancer came back again just before he turned eight. On his birthday they told him he was on the waiting list for some special cancer center in California. He'd looked on a map. California was a bazillion miles away. He wouldn't be able to ride his bike up to Speedway for an Icee, his friends wouldn't be able to visit him, and he wouldn't know anyone there. Plus California was where the movie people lived. He didn't want Magneto to find him.

"I don't want to go there."

"They can help you get better," his mom said.

"We'll be with you the whole time," his father promised.

He continued to protest. He didn't want to go. What didn't they get? It was so far away and…and why could those doctors help when these doctors couldn't? It was his life. He was the one who would get kicked out of his own body by the little cancer monster. Why couldn't he decide for himself?

In the end the stopped trying to convince him this was a good thing, why they couldn't back out, something about money, and barked: "We're going and that's that."

In many ways that was one of the final straws.

They went to California and he underwent treatment. Three months later the cancer was in remission. They went home. A year and a half later, just after his tenth birthday, it came back. That was when he realized that the little cancer monster would never let him go. It wanted him. Was there any point in trying anymore? He'd been sick his whole life and no matter what the doctors did the cancer always came back. Like a little monster eating him inside and growing bigger and bigger until one day it would get too big and shove him out. Then he'd go to heaven and he could ask God why he'd been born this way.

When his parents went through the familiar process of getting him admitted as an inpatient, he told them that he didn't want to have chemo again. They're going to try something new this time. Don't worry about your hair, sweetheart, it'll grow back when you're better.

But even if he got better he wouldn't stay that way! It was just going to keep coming back. Couldn't they see there was no point?

Elliot tried running away. The police found him and brought him home the next day but his parents still weren't ready to listen. It was all about them. We don't want you to die. We love you. We can't lose you. Be brave, please.

What was the point of speaking if no one would listen?

So he just…stopped.

He wasn't sure what hurt more: that they didn't realize at first or that they tried to persuade him to talk instead of asking him why he'd stopped. Oh but they asked the doctors why. They asked the counselors why. The counselors asked him why and only because it was their job to. He didn't answer.

He had to live in the hospital again. All of his friends from last time were long gone. He thought about writing down his question so he could ask one of the doctors or nurses…but then he decided he didn't want to know. He pretended they were all home with their families, happy and healthy and doing normal boy and girl things.

These new kids didn't know how to be friends with quiet Elliot. Most of them didn't even pay attention to him except for Devin. But Devin paid attention to everyone and not in the nice way. Elliot wasn't sure why Devin was in the hospital but he didn't think it was cancer since he still had hair. He was also the oldest boy in there and he liked to brag about how he'd be moving up to the big kids ward soon. In his mind that made him better than the rest. Elliot wouldn't be sorry to see him go.

Without the company of friends to keep him occupied, Elliot spent a lot of his free time drawing. He's the best artist of them all. Sometimes he draws people, sometimes animals, real and fantasy. The doctors and nurses tell him he'll be an amazing artist when he grows up (and he knows they're thinking 'if he grows up') and that he has real talent. So he doesn't try to play with the other kids or make friends or read books because they won't make any difference once he's dead. He figures the pictures will last longer than he will.

At least once a day Devin would march over to wherever Elliot was drawing and try to get him to talk. Elliot took to drawing something he didn't care for that he could flip to when he saw him coming in preparation for the inevitable moment when Devin would snatch it away and rip it to goad him into talking.

One time one of the others, a tiny girl that kinda looked like she was from China and had a gap between her front teeth approached him. She sat beside him for a while and watched him draw. She said her name was Macy before shyly asking him if he could draw her a unicorn with dark eyes and a blonde mane. He smiled and was just about to nod when Devin stuck his big nose in.

"You retard, he can't hear you. Oh, wait, you're not a retard, you're a blonde. My bad. I couldn't tell until I saw your eyebrows. Or what's left of them anyway."

Macy's hands flew to her head and for a second Elliot saw an image in his mind of Macy not too long ago with long and pretty blonde hair instead of a pink and orange bandanna. Then it was gone and tears were filling her eyes. She ran away from them.

Elliot glared at Devin. He'd never ever felt that angry before and he wanted to take his colored pencils and shove them into every hole in Devin's head.

Devin sneered at him.

That night he waited until the nurses were gone then he snuck over to Macy's bed, tapped her awake, and handed her a picture of a white unicorn with dark eyes and a long yellow mane spilling out from underneath a pink and orange bandanna. She beamed at him and started to thank him but he pressed a finger to his lips. She closed her mouth obediently but she didn't stop grinning and he knew she understood.

Macy didn't make a big deal out of the picture and except on the times she sat by him as he drew, Devin didn't bother her any more than he normally did. No one else was as brave as her, though, so Elliot was alone most of the time. He pretended he didn't mind. Devin still preferred to taunt him more than any of the others, though.

The day he had enough was the day he really met the new doctor in their ward.

The first day he came he introduced himself as Dr. John Smith and all the other children automatically liked him, even Devin. What wasn't to like? Tall, lots of hair on his head, and a nice face, the kind of man you saw in movies. He was funny and he didn't talk down to them. They all loved his accent.

But Elliot felt unsure. He seemed like a normal children's doctor but there was something wrong.

Elliot had this thing he could do. He could tell things about people. Sometimes he saw glimpses of their past, the way he saw Macy's hair. Sometimes he could tell what they were thinking. There was no pattern, no way to control it. It just happened. His friend Curtis called it his 'mojo.'

When he saw glimpses of Dr. Smith it wasn't like the other times. There were no clear pictures, no knowledge that came from nowhere. It was a jumble of blurry, half-formed images. Like his mojo couldn't understand what it was picking up on. It made him nervous and it happened more often with Dr. Smith than anyone else so he made an effort to not be near him longer than he had to.

One afternoon in the playroom about two weeks after Dr. Smith came, Elliot had the urge to draw the night sky. He pulled out the drawing pad with the colorful pages and selected a black one. He got out his pack of special light colored pencils and let his hands go free. Two moons, loads of stars, and other different colored dots that were actually planets in the distance and Elliot knew he wasn't drawing Earth's sky but he didn't care. It was real. He knew it. He could see it in his mind.

Someone around him had seen this sky before somewhere. Somehow.

Then Devin came over to play. Elliot didn't notice him coming until there wasn't time left to flip to a drawing he didn't mind Devin taking. There was nothing he could do as Devin sat down in the chair next to him except keep drawing and pray. But God hadn't listened to all the prayers to make him better. Why should God care about this?

"What's this supposed to be?" Devin asked. "That ain't right. We only got one moon, you retard. Don't you know anything?"

Elliot ignored him and kept working on the largest moon. Dark paper was tricky 'cause you had to color highlights instead of shadows.

"Hey! I'm talkin' to you, mutey. I know you're not really deaf. I know you can hear me. Answer me!"

Sticks and stones may break my bones…

"I said answer me, stupid head!"

But words can never hurt me.

Devin snatched the sketchpad from under his hands. Elliot reached for it automatically. No, no, no.

"I ain't givin' it back until you answer me." Devin said, holding it out of reach. Elliot pushed his chair back and leaned across the table but Devin snatched it away from his seeking fingers. "You heard me, mutey. Talk or I ain't givin' it."

Would Devin give him back the drawing even if he talked? Was the drawing worth it? Would Devin leave him alone if he talked? Could he even talk anymore? It'd been weeks. What if his voice had gone away forever? Was it even worth trying?

He took too long to think about it.

"Guess you don't want it." Devin said and turned it around. He twisted his lips as he thought about it. "I don't either. It's stupid."

He gripped the edge of the paper and tugged. Instead of coming neatly out of the pad, it tore at the top and diagonally down through the middle and something inside Elliot snapped.

With a strength he didn't know he had, he shoved the table right into Devin's stomach. The other boy let out a startled 'oomph!' and he let go of the paper, but that wasn't good enough. He'd ripped it. He'd destroyed it. He was always doing that. Every day. Even if Elliot didn't care about those other drawings they were still getting torn.

Elliot launched himself at Devin and knocked him right out of the chair. Devin was too started to defend himself at first and Elliot didn't give him a chance after. He was aware of the other children screaming, some of them egging him on, cheering, and adults shouting but it was nothing but noise. Devin was crying but he didn't stop. He just hitting him in the face over and over with his fists and raking his nails across his skin.

Some distant part of his mind warned him that this would only get him in trouble but Elliot didn't care. It wasn't fair! He hadn't wanted leukemia, he hadn't wanted his parents to ignore him, he didn't want to feel alone, and he hadn't wanted to lose his friends or have to share secret smiles with those he still had. Some of it was Devin's fault, most of it wasn't. But he was there now and it easier to blame him for all of it.

A pair of hands grabbed him under his arms and lifted him into the air like he weighed nothing. He screamed wordlessly, voice rough and hoarse from disuse, and kicked and thrashed at the person holding him. They adjusted their grip, holding him with their arms wrapped around his midsection.

"That's enough!"

Elliot saw a blurred face with brown hair in his mind and realized Dr. Smith was holding him off the floor. Tears rolled down Elliot's cheeks and he continued to kick and thrash as Dr. Smith carried him out of the playroom. He saw other adults bending down to fuss over Devin and the other kids staring at him in awe. And his sketchpad and pencils left forgotten on the table.

He may have beaten Devin, but Devin had still won. Elliot hadn't said words but he'd still let him hear his voice.

Dr. Smith set him down on his bed and knelt in front him. Elliot continued to cry while Dr. Smith looked him up and down critically. He didn't seem too angry and that made no kind of sense. But, then, Dr. Smith didn't really make much sense himself.

"We've never had a chance to talk before now. You're always drawing. Elliot Hunter, right?" he asked.

Elliot reached up to wipe his eyes. Dr. Smith waited and Elliot realized he wasn't going to let him get away without answering. Except, he wasn't asking him to talk. He wasn't yelling or blaming him or threatening to rip things up. He just wanted a response.

So Elliot nodded.

"You know, Elliot…the other children have told me about Devin Jacobs. They say he's a bully. They say he tries to goad you into talking."

Elliot nodded, not meeting his eyes.

"Macy Clearwater says he rips up your drawings sometimes. You drew her a unicorn and she hides it from Devin."

He nodded and wiped his nose.

Dr. Smith sighed heavily. "Elliot, I understand you were angry with him, but violence is not the answer. You might've heard the whole spiel before, and I know it's overdone, but it's true. Two wrongs don't make a right. Like—oh, I know—ever seen the original Star Wars movie?"

Elliot nodded. Duh.

"Remember when the Millennium Falcon is being sucked into the Death Star, Han is trying to fight -Wan Kenobi told him—hang on, let me see if I can do this." He cleared his throat and attempted an American accent as he said, "'There are alternatives to fighting.'"

Elliot sniffed but he couldn't help the grin tugging at his lips. He really couldn't speak American.

"Not exactly the same circumstances but the point still stands. Violence might seem like the easiest way to deal with your problems, but it also is the easiest way to add to your problems. Alright?"

He nodded once more and groaned internally at the typical adult response.

"Good lad." Dr. Smith patted his knee again and stood up. "Unfortunately, I'm going to have to call your parents about this. You're to stay on this bed until I say otherwise. I'm not cross with you, Elliot," he added quietly. "Bullies have a way of bringing out the worst in us."

There was old pain in his voice and it prompted Elliot to look up and meet his gaze.

Three boys were in an alleyway. The younger version of Dr. Smith and another boy shorter than he with black hair were backed up against the wall while the third boy taunted them ruthlessly. He seemed to be targeting the smaller one…

…and they were somewhere new now and the bully was throwing small stones at the little boy and John snapped and he threw himself at the bully and started beating him down…

Elliot inhaled sharply. That hadn't been like the others. It was warped, yes, like it wasn't exactly right, but something about it rang true. His mojo said something was wrong with Dr. Smith but he could be trusted.

Maybe he would listen.

His parents certainly wouldn't.

When they arrived they chewed him out and told him that violence was wrong and he hadn't handled it well and something about money and insurance and punishments and Elliot really didn't care. It didn't matter that Devin had started it. He was the one in trouble because he'd defended himself. They ended it with how very disappointed he was and that he had to apologize to Devin.

He reached for his sketchpad and pencils but his father had snatched them away. "No. You will apologize out loud so he can hear you."

Elliot looked at the floor and no amount of orders or bribes could get him to look back up. They were threatening to move him to another ward and away from all his friends (Macy! he thought in despair) when Dr. Smith stepped in.

"If I may, Mr. and Mrs. Hunter," he began. "I don't think we've been properly introduced, my name is Dr. John Smith. I've spoken to the children before and a lot of them say that Devin has been causing a lot of problems. Sorry Mrs. Jacobs," he added to the woman sitting with Devin. She raised her eyebrows. "But they also say he tries to goad Elliot into talking on a daily basis. That he rips up his drawings when he doesn't."

"Devin!" Mrs. Jacobs exclaimed. "Have you really?"

"No!" Devin lied.

Dr. Smith folded his arms. "One of my med students asked the children if they saw what happened. Several of the said they saw you rip up the drawing he'd been working on for hours. May I?" he held his hand out for the sketchpad. Elliot's father handed it over and Dr. Smith flipped through it until he located the torn black paper that had been stuffed in carelessly. "Well, here we are, then."

Devin smashed his lips together furiously and now it was his turn to look away.

"Today's incident seems to be the accumulation of several weeks worth of frustrations. Now, I'm not condoning Elliot's actions, but perhaps you shouldn't be so harsh on him. And perhaps forcing him to talk isn't the best course of action."

"Well then what do you suggest?" Mrs. Hunter asked.

Dr. Smith looked between the two boys. "Devin, are you sorry for being mean to Elliot and tearing up his drawings?"

Devin glared up at him.

"Devin?"

"Yes," he bit out.

"Uh huh. Now say it like you mean it."

Devin took a deep breath and let it out. "I'm sorry."

"And do you promise to stop being mean and tearing up his drawings?"

"…Yes."

"Good. Elliot, are you sorry for hitting him?"

No! I'll never be sorry! He deserved it! Elliot nodded.

"And do you promise never to do it again?"

He nodded.

Dr. Smith smiled. "There we are, then. There's nothing more we can do. There's no point in putting Elliot in a separate ward. His friends are here and Devin will soon be moved to an adolescent ward, anyway. If nobody has a problem with this, I think we're done here."

Elliot stared at him and only just managed to not gawk.

The next day Dr. Smith returned his sketchpad and pencils. Elliot was stunned. He'd assumed he was going to get them back and he'd been preparing to steal notebook paper and pens. Dr. Smith smiled at him, winked once, and then left. He sat there, completely stunned, for about a minute then flipped through the pages until he came to the one Devin had ripped.

It was fixed.

No, not fixed, he could still see the rip. He checked the back and saw three strips of tape placed neatly along the tear. No bends or crinkles.

Something on the brown page below it caught his eye.

Elliot,

Sorry for using one of your pages up. I just thought you should know that you are a brilliant artist. It takes a special kind of talent to draw something like that without any reference at all. You should finish it.

And don't worry I didn't browse.

It was from Dr. Smith, it had to be. It looked like doctor handwriting—all messy and wobbly like a first grader's.

Elliot smiled, pulled the light blue pencil out of the box and carefully resumed where he'd left off.

Hours later he was still working on it in the playroom. Macy, emboldened by yesterday's events, came over and plopped down in the seat next to him. Her eyes flitted across the paper, taking in all the details, including the tear.

"This is the one Devin ripped," she said. It wasn't a question. "You're really good, you know, and Devin isn't. He's jealous you can draw and he can't. That's what I think."

Maybe. But if that's the reason, then why did he want to make Elliot talk?

"But it's good you finally got mad at him. Maybe he'll leave you alone now."

Maybe.

"Do you…do you mind if I sit and watch you draw?" she asked. "I won't touch your pencils or nothing. I'll even stop talking if you want me to."

Yeah right. He grinned down at the paper and nodded.

She scooted her chair closer, leaning her arms on the table and resting her chin in her hands. They sat in companionable silence for a long time while he put the finishing touches on his picture. Macy didn't try to tell him the sky was wrong or there was no way there could be two moons in the sky. She didn't compliment him or tell him he was doing good. She was just silent and as much as he appreciated her consideration, he thought it was strange to not hear her chatter.

So when he was done, he set down the white pencil and picked up a regular one, flipped to the next unused sheet and wrote. You don't have to be quiet.

Macy raised her eyebrows and a smile spread across her face. And it was a good smile; the kind in movies you saw after the day was saved. Because except for an occasional head movement or gesture, this was the first time he'd actually communicated with her since he gave her the unicorn and told her to keep quiet. It made her seem older than he'd thought she was.

He pointed to himself then held up ten fingers.

She stared at him for a moment. "You're ten?" He nodded. "I thought you were like twelve or something."

He shook his head and grinned. She giggled. "You look funny when you do that. Oh, no! I meant that in a good way. I've never seen you smile like that."

No, she hadn't. He'd been afraid to do anything to attract Devin's notice. He didn't really believe Devin would leave him alone from here on out but maybe things wouldn't be as bad. Maybe he could have a real friend again.

"I'm nine."

He nodded and for lack of anything better to respond with, he gave her a thumbs up.

Macy tilted her head to the side and studied him inquisitively. "How come you don't talk, Elliot?"

He stared at her.

"You're not sick in your throat and I heard you scream yesterday so I know you can talk, you just choose not to. So how come?"

Elliot looked down at the paper, deciding if he should ignore her question or answer it and how to explain if he did. He gripped the pencil tightly.

Because no one ever listens when I do. he wrote.

"I'd listen." Macy said. In his mind he saw him and Macy sitting at the table from behind, leaning over his sketchpad. He blinked in surprise and looked behind them. Dr. Lewis, a blonde woman who always smiled at them no matter what kind of day she was having, was standing in the doorway looking around the room. She noticed him looking and waved.

He looked back at the sketchpad with the image still fresh in his mind, flipped to a white page, and started to draw it. Macy leaned closer to watch. It didn't take her long to realize what he was drawing.

"That's us."

He continued working for the remainder of their time in the playroom and Macy stayed with him. He was putting on the finishing touches when the nurses told them it was time for dinner. The image he'd drawn was an almost exact replica of the scene in his head, now faded, except for the other children in the background. Macy was amazed.

Every day for the following week Macy sat with him during playtime. Sometimes she was content to just watch him; sometimes she brought toys to play with or a book to read. He didn't mind. He knew it had to be hard for her to be his friend when he barely responded to anything she said. Her company was enough.

Dr. Smith came around a few times and paused to watch him work. He never stayed long and he usually didn't speak other than to say hello.

Devin usually glared at them from across the playroom but he only ever came over once. Macy quickly put a stop to that, folding her arms and shooting daggers at him from her eyes. "You got a problem, buttwipe?" she asked loudly. "'Cause you come any closer and you're definitely gonna."

Elliot didn't look up to see Devin's response but he didn't bother them so he figured that was good enough. He hadn't realized the courage his fight with Devin had given her.

One time she got the idea to make things for him to draw. She'd gather toys and objects from around the room and set up a scene on the table, which he then proceeded to draw. Other times he'd wait until she was preoccupied with her own entertainment and then he'd sketch her. These would always make her grin and blush and pull her bandanna down over her face.

It was the best week he'd had in a long time.

At the end of it, Macy was late to the playroom. She'd had an appointment during lunchtime so he wasn't too surprised. When she finally arrived he was prepared to show her the picture he'd just finished. She sat down next to him as she usually did and he pulled himself out of the zone so he could focus on her when she started talking. He waited, and waited, and waited. After a few minutes he looked up to make sure she hadn't died or something and caught her staring at him. There were tears in her eyes.

His mind immediately jumped to the worst possible conclusion. Oh no, no, no. It's not working, is it? The chemo isn't working and you're getting worse and—

"Calm down," she ordered.

He realized he was breathing quickly and he swallowed. Taking a deep breath, he exhaled slowly and tried to calm his racing heart.

Macy sniffed and looked down at the paper. "So, what are you drawing?" she asked, trying and failing to sound cheery. "Is that supposed to be a dog or a fox? I've always wanted a pet fox, they look so fluffy and their tails are so bushy…"

Elliot stared at her for a moment and then flipped the page and started to write. He almost never did this, preferring to use facial expressions and gestures to communicate Macy understood, even seemed to enjoy the charades. But this was serious.

Are you going to die?

Her eyes widened and she laughed. He gawked at her for a good thirty seconds before she finally calmed down, shaking her head. "No. I'm going to live. I'm going home today."

Elliot stared at her, completely full of emotions—shock, fear, sadness, joy, hope, and the beginnings of loneliness—and he couldn't settle for just one. If she was going home then that meant her treatments were over and her cancer was going away or even gone. And that was good. Great. Awesome. Maybe she'd be lucky and it wouldn't ever come back. He hoped so. The cancer monster shouldn't have her. God shouldn't be that unkind. Her blonde hair would grow back and she'd get rid of her bandannas (or maybe she'd still wear them as a reminder) and she'd go to school and do normal girl things and grow up and get married and get a job and have babies and…and…

But she'd be leaving him behind.

"I knew I might be leaving soon. I didn't want to tell you earlier," she went on. "I was afraid you wouldn't want to be my friend 'cause I was leaving."

His mouth moved but even now he couldn't bring himself to break his silence. Instead he looked back down at his sketchpad. It was easier to not respond and simply look away.

"But the…the doctor said my cancer is nearly gone. I beat it, Elliot. I beat it." There was such pride in her voice that he had to look up at her and smile. There were tears in his eyes but he didn't care. He leaned over and hugged her tightly. She hugged him back.

Macy sniffled "I'll come visit you," she promised. "And when you're better you can come over to my house and we can play on the swings if you want and I'll get chalk and we can draw on the driveway."

He smiled. That was good. Something he could look forward to after he was out and to occupy his time until he was back in. He could introduce her to his other friends and Macy would help them understand.

He drew back and flipped the pages in his sketchbook until he reached the one he'd drawn of the two of them at the table days before. He carefully tore it out and scrawled their names on the bottom so she'd never forget him even after the cancer monster finally got him. She accepted it with like it was something precious then leaned forward and kissed his cheek.

"Macy!" a woman called from the doorway. She looked a lot like Macy, except her skin was darker and she looked like she was from China.

She's going to leave me, he thought in a sudden panic.

Macy glanced at her then back to Elliot. "Mom wants us to go eat lunch together. I'll see you in a little bit, okay?"

He nodded and forced himself to smile. She hugged him one last time then she hopped out of her chair and ran over to her mother. He watched them leave and stared at the door for a long time after. When he finally turned back to his sketchpad he realized there were tearstains on the paper.

He felt like he might be sick. He closed his sketchpad, gathered up his pencils, and returned to the ward without telling anyone. It was almost worse going back to the room. There was a blonde man that seemed familiar, though he was sure he'd never seen him before, by Macy's bed, putting her things into a box. Elliot stared at him.

The man became aware that he was being watched and turned around. He raised his eyebrows at Elliot's piercing look. "Hello there, son," he greeted.

Elliot blinked.

"I'm just packing my daughter's things."

Macy's father, he realized. No wonder her looked familiar. And that shade of blonde was identical to Macy's whenever his mojo showed him what she looked like before. So that was why Macy looked like she did. Not quite Chinese, not quite white; she was mixed.

Macy's father was packing her stuff. She really was leaving.

Elliot's lip trembled. He didn't want to watch but he didn't feel like going back to the playroom. If he went anywhere else on the floor he'd be found and made to return to the playroom. If he went to another floor then he could get in big trouble. Plus there'd been that one woman and her daughter who hadn't understood leukemia and thought it was contagious. They'd treated him like he had that plague he learned about in school. He wasn't eager to repeat the experience.

Macy's father was beginning to seem uncomfortable under his stare. "Are…you okay? Do you need me to call a nurse?"

He shook his head and walked over to his bed. He put his paper and pencils in their place then climbed into bed, pulling the covers over his head. He spent the next ten minutes listening to Macy's father pack her stuff away.

Elliot didn't go to dinner. He wasn't hungry.

Macy came back after that with the other children, several of which where talking to her. He pushed the covers down, sat up, and waited to be noticed. It didn't take long. She saw him out of the corner of her eye, finished her conversation, and made her way over to him. She plopped onto his bed unceremoniously and smiled weakly at him.

"You kinda scared my dad earlier. But it's all right; I told him you were nice."

Elliot almost smiled.

"I'm leaving in a few minutes. Mom and Dad are doing the paperwork. …But I'll see you real soon. Promise."

He nodded, reaching for his paper and a pencil.

I'll miss you, he wrote.

"I'll miss you, too." she said and hugged him tight.

From the other side of the room, three voices broke out in song. "Macy and Elliot sittin' in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

Elliot recoiled away from her, cheeks flaming, and Macy twisted around to glare at them.

The rest of the room joined in. "First comes love, then comes marriage, then comes Macy with the baby carriage!"

"Shuddup!" she hollered while they all cackled. Shaking her head disdainfully, she turned away and hugged Elliot again. "…Unless, y'know, you wanna get married," she whispered. "But I think you'll have to ask my dad first."

Elliot's shoulders shook with silent laughter.

The following morning when he returned from getting his chemo, Macy's bed had been stripped and he could smell bleach in the air. They'd gone and removed all proof she'd ever been there in the first place and soon a new kid would come and sleep in her bed.

He had to remind himself that it was a good thing she was gone.

Around lunchtime Dr. Smith came in and found him lying in bed. They stared at each other in silence for a few moments and then he left without a word. The other children came back a while after. None of them said anything to him. None of them ever did without Macy around.

At dinner time Miss James, one of the student Doctors, a black woman with an accent like Dr. Smith's, came to get him. "Time for dinner, Elliot," she said.

She'd been one of Macy's doctors. He swallowed and didn't look her in the eye for the rest of the time she was there. She tried to get him to get up to eat but he wasn't hungry. Eventually she left.

The next day he didn't feel like going to the playroom so he sat alone on his bed in the empty ward and doodled aimlessly on a black piece of paper with a black pencil. His counselor would have fun trying to figure out what this means. She was always browsing his sketchpads as if it held the secrets to his mind, not caring that he didn't want her to.

He heard someone come in but he didn't bother to look. If they wanted his attention they'd get it. But no one ever came to talk to him at this time of day. So he was quite surprised when he felt someone sit down on his bed.

Dr. Smith, his mojo warned.

"You're friend Macy went home a few days ago. I talked to Dr. Lewis about her. She said Macy's cancer was nearly entirely gone."

I know.

"And Miss James says you haven't been eating. That's not good, Elliot." Dr. Smith sighed heavily. "I understand you miss her, but this is not the way to handle your grief. Macy wouldn't want you to go hungry."

I guess.

"I noticed you've been drawing a lot of strange things lately: creatures from other worlds, strange skies, and stars. I, uh, well—I have something I'd like to share with you, if you don't mind. I think you might like it."

Elliot looked up curiously. This was new. Dr. Smith held an ordinary deep blue composition notebook in his hands. The corner of his mouth twitched. "Promise you won't think I'm barking?"

Elliot blinked.

He tried again. "Promise you won't think I'm insane?"

Oh. Elliot nodded and traced an X on his chest.

Dr. Smith laughed. "Good enough. I have these dreams where I'm an alien and I travel through time and space. They've been happening frequently I've started to write them down here to keep track. I was thinking about moving them to a proper journal. I find it frustrating trying to draw with all these lines in the background. Would you like to hear some?"

Elliot nodded.

"Alright." He picked up a brown bag from the floor and handed it to Elliot. "I'll read to you if you eat what I've brought."

Elliot looked in the bag. A sandwich, an apple, milk, and a chocolate chip cookie. His stomach rumbled loudly and Dr. Smith chuckled. Elliot pulled out the sandwich and unwrapped it. PB&J. Yum. Lunch for a story, seemed like a fair trade. He took a bite of it, glancing up at Dr. Smith.

He nodded, opening the journal to page one, and began to read. "My name is the Doctor…"

So who did you find? :D

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