Logan walked into Max Martinez's office at nine in the morning. He had told Rory to go ahead and go to class, that he could handle his doctor's appointment by himself. All his mind could focus on, though, was their baby. He didn't want to miss a moment of their child's life, but he didn't want to raise a child to see him suffering the entire time.
"Logan, Max is ready for you," the receptionist said, opening the door for him. He made his way from the waiting room through the door. He'd gotten to known most of the staff at the office, and he not only liked the people but also the atmosphere. The one thing he didn't like was having to fly down to Baltimore for every appointment, and Max always gave Logan an earful when he had to fly up when Logan was in the hospital.
He took a seat in the same chair he had all those months ago, looking at the seat Rory had sat in. Not the best day of his life, that was for sure. He wondered if he'd ever apologized for yelling at her. He made a mental note to tell her.
"Logan, how are you? How's Rory?" Max asked as he walked in, taking a seat behind the desk. It was as if he was talking to a friend, not a doctor.
"I've been doing pretty good, considering. Still tired a lot, still sweating through the mattress, but not as much," he said, before a smile broke out. "Rory's pregnant."
"Oh really?" the doctor replied with a smile on his face. "You are one lucky man, Logan. I know you went through the process of freezing your sperm in case you guys wanted kids, but you did it on your own." Logan just laughed. It was a decision he'd made without Rory, a decision she didn't even know about. He wanted to know that someday he might have a child. "How's that going?"
"That's one of the things I wanted to talk to you about," he admitted, smile wiping off his face. "I know you've said from the beginning it would be a good idea to talk to someone - a professional - about everything. I think it's time." Max nodded, typing on his computer for a minute before Logan heard the printer start up.
"I have some colleagues in Connecticut," he said, standing and walking to the printer. He grabbed the papers before walking back and sitting down. "I suggest Melanie Short. She's been doing this for twenty years, has seen countless situations - some very close to yours. Anybody on this list would be a good match, but I think she'd be the best for you." He highlighted what Logan could only assume to be her contact information before handing him the papers. He looked and saw that he was right. "Now, I've been looking over your latest lab results that you had done a few days ago."
Logan wasn't ready to hear this. He was never ready, always afraid he was going to be told his cancer was growing again or that he had another infection or that his life was going to be cut down even more. He took a breath, waiting for whatever news he had.
"Your ANC has lowered again. You're at a slightly increased risk for infection, so avoid crowds, watch what you're eating, all that fun stuff. It's not as bad as it was back in November, but it's not what we want to see. Your PET Scan is scheduled for next week in Hartford with Doctor Williams. He'll call you with the results within a couple days after that. Logan," Max said and Logan looked up. He'd been listening, but not looking at the man. "Have you considered going through treatments again, now that you have a child on the way?"
To be honest, he had thought about it, extensively. He'd even gone as far as to make a pro-con list. God, he wanted to be with his Ace and his baby and to watch it grow up and to have that forever. But he didn't want his child's memories to be him laying in a hospital bed or being too sick to go to the t-ball games or the dance recitals. He didn't want his child to hate that Daddy can't be there because Daddy can't get out of bed.
"I'm going to talk with Doctor Short first," he told Max. "I'll see you next month." He stood and walked out, deciding he'd call to make his next appointment. He didn't want to talk with Clarice the receptionist, he didn't want her smiles and her pitty. When he got to the car, he climbed in the backseat and told the driver to take him to the airport. Pulling out his phone and the piece of paper, he called Doctor Short's office, making an appointment for the next day.
The entire way home, his mind was stuck on Max's question. He tried playing every scenario in his head except for the one he wanted the most. He wanted to beat this, he wanted to raise his child and be with Rory, he wanted to grow old and to die a happy man, not a twenty-six to thirty year old. But even with treatments and fighting, he knew there was a slim chance at that happiness.
When he got home, Rory was laying on the couch, one leg stretched out, the other bent. He tossed his jacket on the chair, lying between her legs. His head rested on her chest. One of her arms wrapped around him, the other running through his hair. Neither said anything. He squeezed his eyes shut as he started to cry. He knew he'd cried a few times since his diagnosis, but nothing like this.
She didn't know what had happened, but she'd never seen him like this. The blank look on his face as he laid down, him holding onto her like she was going to slip away. She'd never heard the heart-wrenching sobs come from him, and she didn't know what to do. For the first time, she really didn't know what to do.
He woke up the next morning, both of them still laying on the couch. He looked up, seeing she was still asleep. He didn't want to wake her, so he stood slowly, making his way to the bathroom. His mind still was focused on the day before, still focused on those possibilities that he wanted. When he got out of the shower, he got dressed and left a note for Rory that he'd be back later, that he needed to clear his head, which was true.
He got in the Porsche, driving to the address he was given for Doctor Short's office. He wasn't expecting what he saw when he got there. It was a small house in a town called Essex, overlooking the Connecticut River. He parked in the driveway before climbing out and knocking on the door.
When the woman answered, she did so with a smile. "You must be Logan," she said softly. "Come on in. I'm Melanie." She was easily in her sixties, white hair pulled up in a bun. She wore jeans and a button up shirt with an apron over it. "Go ahead and have a seat, make yourself comfortable." She shut the door as he made his way into the living room, taking a seat on the couch. It was homey.
"So, Max filled me in on some things, but left others out. I know your diagnosis - Stage 3 S Non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma - and prognosis. I know you have a very supportive fiance. Tell me about her," she said, sitting in one of the armchairs. It didn't feel like talking to a therapist, it felt like talking to a friend.
"Her name's Rory," he said with a small smile. "I call her Ace because she's a reporter at Yale and has always wanted to be a reporter, so she's my ace reporter." He looked up at the woman who was smiling. "I'd never been in a relationship before her. I was a person who felt like feelings would tie me down, but I was so wrong. She's everything I ever dreamed of."
"How did you two meet?" He closed his eyes, the smile still on his face.
"A friend of hers bartended for me when I was in college. I ran into him, and she was with him. The second time we met, I couldn't even remember her name and she yelled at me for being rude to her friend Marty - that's his name. And we got into this heated debate and I turned to her and I asked 'wasn't that fun.' I just started to fall from there. I proposed at home. We'd had friends and some family over because I was feeling better and wanted to get my mind off it all - the treatment. And she said yes. We're having a baby." he then said, eyes opening to see Melanie looking at him.
"So she's pregnant?" she asked rhetorically. "That must be hard on both of you, with you and then bringing a life into this world. How are you handling it?" He took a deep breath. He kicked his shoes off, pulling his legs up on the couch, hugging his knees to his chest and resting his chin on them. He didn't want to say it, saying it made it too real for him. "Logan. I'm going to assume this is the main reason you wanted to talk to someone. I know it's going to be hard to talk about it, but let me be honest with you for a minute." He looked at her. "I was pregnant when I lost my husband," she told him. "It was a car crash, but if there's anybody who will understand your feelings about this, it's me."
"My dad brought up the idea of kids a few months ago," he told her. "We really didn't talk about it, we never thought it'd happen. I decided that I was done with chemo and treatment when I finished my first round. I know I'm going to die," he finally admitted. "I know I'm going to die and I didn't want to be miserable the entire time. The treatments landed me in the hospital a couple times. The first was from dehydration, the second was an infection that caused a tear in my esophagus. She came in the bathroom, and I saw the look in her eyes and she was so scared. Our bathroom is mostly white, and there was just so much red… So much red." He closed his eyes, trying to push those images out of his mind. She didn't say anything as he tried to collect his thoughts.
"We had a weekend at the Vineyard back in February for Valentines. I had taken her last year, and it didn't end well. My father showed up and sent me to London for a business trip. I hate working for him sometimes, but he's let up since the diagnosis. No more business trips, but he has me doing a lot of work from home. And she's been juggling school and the newspaper and wedding plans, so I thought it would be nice for us to have a break. When we got back, it got hectic again, but we had an unspoken agreement. We made sure we made time for each other again. One day she came home when she was supposed to be at class, obviously freaked out about something and told me she wasn't feeling okay, and went straight to the bathroom. Five minutes later I'm leaning on the door, asking if she's okay again and she opens it and I look between her and the tests and she tells me."
"How did you react?" Melanie then asked him.
"On the outside, I held her for an hour as we sat on the bathroom floor. She was crying, and I knew I had to be strong for her. But I was scared, I still am. I'm terrified. I thought the worst thing that could happen when I had a kid was to end up like my father, never did I think that I wouldn't get to be there for everything. My father wasn't there growing up, he was always working, but I'd rather be like him than be dead. One of our friend's stopped by that day and we told him. When Rory called her mom, I talked to him. I'm so afraid of not getting to be there, so I made him promise that if I couldn't be there, that he would. Finn's been my best friend since we were kids, so I didn't know who else to ask."
"Why do you think Finn would be the best choice?" she then asked. "And tell me more about him. You said he's been your friend since you were kids?" He thought of all the trouble he'd gotten into with Finn by his side.
"Finn and I met when I was at, I think it was Andover. Yeah, Andover. He was the transfer kid who came from a rich Australian family - the Rothschild's - and I was a Huntzberger, so it was pretty much set up that we'd be friends. He took to our group pretty well, and then it was me, him, and our friend Colin, but Colin was a stick in the mud compared to Finn. We had taken a year off from Yale together to sail around the world, and we were in Fiji. Finn being Finn decided he wanted to go ahead and leave, but I was the only one who knew how to drive the yacht. And when he tried, he hit a reef and sunk the yacht. There's this thing about Finn, though. He pretty much always has a blood alcohol level above zero, but he picks up on things nobody else does. He knows everything despite everybody thinking he's just a crazy drunk."
"So, Finn's more fun loving than Colin. Wouldn't you want Colin looking after your child instead, then?" He smiled, knowing there was more to his answer than Melanie probably thought. He put his legs back down, leaning back into the couch.
"It's not that Colin is more responsible, even though that's a fact. It's that I know that if I hadn't stolen Rory's heart, Finn would have. They're so close, and from the beginning, I knew he fell for her just like I did. I know there's one person who loves her as much as I do, and it's him. And I know he'd be there for her more than anybody when I'm gone and I know he'd help raise my child with so much love and with no questions asked. That's what our conversation was about that day. It was me telling him I knew he loved Rory, and him denying it until I told him it was fine. I knew he wouldn't do anything, but I knew he'd be there for her and I made him promise."
"I'm going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer it honestly, not that you haven't been. But this question is going to be hard for you to answer. If you relapse, given the new situation with a child, will you resume treatments?" He knew she was going to ask, and he didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to answer.
"As much as I want to live, as much as I want to fight, I don't want my child's memories of me to be me in a hospital bed hooked up to IVs and going through chemo and being sick all the time. I want my time with them to be happy, and I know towards the end it's not going to be the happiest. But I want to make the most of my time. If I live until they're six or seven, I want to be able to go to the games and the recitals or take them on vacations. If I live until they're two, I want to see as many firsts as I can. It hurts me to say this, it makes me feel as if I'm saying my child isn't enough to fight for. Is that what I'm doing?" he then asks, a look of confusion on his face. He didn't want that to be the case.
"Honestly, I can't answer that for you. That's an answer only you have, but I can say something that can help you figure it out. You seem to be a very brave man, Logan. You've gone through more in the past year than most people go through in a lifetime. You're having to face your mortality, and by the sounds of it, you seem to be a thrill seeker, so all these things you've done to defy death… You're now having to face them. But, here's the question you really need to ask yourself. Do you want to make the time you have left worth it?"
He wasn't quite sure what she was asking, but instead of letting him answer, she stood up. "Our time is done for today. Is the same time next week alright?" she asked. He nodded, slipping his shoes back on and grabbing his coat. "Logan, talk to Rory. Don't shield her from this, because I know you want to protect her, but it will end up hurting her. I'll see you next week." With that, he walked to his car, a text from Rory on his phone.
Hope you're okay. Tried calling a few times, but you didn't answer. Finn's over, so we'll see you when you get home. I love you - Ace.
A/N: Putting this at the end for obvious reasons. I know this was a lot of dialogue, but it felt necessary. I wanted you to see inside Logan's head if only for a chapter. I got the idea from some later chapters I've been working on. Let me know what you think because this chapter feels a little risky to me. Thank you for all the comments so far, I appreciate them all.