A/N: This fic contains potentially triggering subject matter including but not limited to: suicidal references, gun violence, sexual trauma, homelessness, drug abuse, depression, homophobia, and cancer. It may contain inaccuracies. No copyright infringement intended. Thanks for reading!

BOOK ONE - PART TWO - CHAPTER TWENTY

Cat was standing in the hallway, knocking on the bedroom door as she called, "Sam? Are you awake?" She waited for several seconds, then knocked again. When Sam still failed to reply, she grabbed the door handle and slowly opened the door. Sam's pain pills were open on the coffee table next to the donut box, which was entirely empty, and her pajamas were on the floor. Other than that, the room seemed the same as the last time she'd seen it.

"Sam?" Cat called out again, looking around the room. Sam was nowhere to be found. Even the bathroom was empty. Cat immediately started panicking. She left the room and searched the rest of the house, then checked the patio and backyard. Sam was gone. She hadn't even left a note. Cat pulled out her phone, immediately calling Robbie.

"Cat? Is something wrong? Aren't you at work?" Robbie asked when he picked up.

"No, I'm at home. Have you seen Sam today? She's not in her room and I'm scared she ran off and did something stupid," Cat choked out.

"Oh, no, she asked me to give her a ride to the doctor's office so she could pick up her motorcycle," Robbie explained. "But that was a few hours ago."

"Oh, God, she left again," Cat assumed the worst, fighting back tears. "You have to help me find her."

"Cat, she probably just had something she needed to go do. I'm sure she'll be home by tonight," Robbie told her. "There's no reason to start worrying."

Just then, Cat heard a motorcycle revving outside.

"Nevermindshe'shomebye!" she said without taking a breath, then hung up and pocketed her phone. She ran outside to find Sam pulling into the driveway, entirely unharmed. Her bike was painted with orange flames, and she was wearing a new pair of Nike shoes. Once she climbed off, she opened the back compartment and pulled out a large bucket from Tubba Chicken, as well as a bag that contained some other unknown item.

"Hey," Sam greeted with a smile, munching on a chicken puck as she approached her. "It's not five o'clock yet; did you get off early?"

"Um, yeah, I…" Cat looked at her in confusion.

"Robbie gave me three-hundred bucks. I don't know why," Sam explained, shrugging. "But I got my bike detailed, and I bought shoes, and chicken."

The two of them walked inside the house and headed for Sam's bedroom. "What's in the bag?" Cat asked, eyeing it curiously.

Once they were inside the room, Sam shut the door. "Oh, just a little something for you."

"For me?" Gifts from Sam had always been rare. "Well, what is it; can I see it?"

"We need to agree that this is all you'll have, alright? If I find you searching for more, I'll take it and eat it myself," Sam lightly threatened. "But here." She pulled out a small, round tin of Bibble and handed it to Cat.

Cat's jaw dropped. "You got me Bibble?!" She ripped away the plastic and popped off the lid. It was becoming increasingly hard to come by, but had been her favorite snack for years. She scooped up a sizeable handful and shoved it all in her mouth at once, then sighed contentedly. "Sam, you're so sweet! Thank you!"

"No problem." Sam walked away and kicked off her shoes, then collapsed on the couch and continued stuffing her mouth with chicken. "So, why'd they let you off early?" she asked with her mouth full.

Then the memory hit Cat hard, and the smile fell from her face. She put the lid back on her Bibble tin and set it down. "I, um… I need to talk to you."

Sam looked at her, and her eyebrows drew together. "'Kay, then talk."

Cat walked over and took a seat on the small area of the couch that Sam hadn't already claimed. She paused for several seconds, carefully selecting her words, and said, "I got a phone call from the doctor."

Sam swallowed hard and put her half-eaten chicken puck back in the bucket. "Oh. That. So, uh… what'd they say? Is it cancer?"

Cat took the bucket from Sam and placed it on the coffee table. Then she scooted over, closer to her, and took both of her hands. After several seconds, she finally managed to force out, "It's cancer. Stage three. They're, um… pretty worried."

"Stage three?" Sam wasn't sure how the stages worked, but it definitely didn't sound like a good thing. "So… what's gonna happen to me?"

"They want you to have surgery tomorrow morning at nine," Cat explained. "They said they need to do it as soon as possible. And… that it only has a fifty-percent success rate."

Sam seemed to be in shock. "What happens if they fail?"

Cat tried to speak and choked on a sob. She covered her face with her hand and shook her head.

"Cat? Tell me."

"The doctor said you'd have about six months to live," Cat somehow managed to say.

"Oh." Sam leaned back, stunned silent. Then she calmly stated, "Fuck."

"Are you… okay?" Cat asked hesitantly. "I mean, obviously you're not okay but…" A couple tears escaped Sam's eyes, but she wiped them away before more could fall. She had gotten most of her crying out yesterday and had already been expecting something like this. "I.. I don't know. I guess, if I'm meant to survive this, then I'll survive." She thought about it for a moment. "I have to have surgery?" She had never had surgery before; the closest thing had been a minor dental operation.

"Yes. They said it requires anesthesia, but that you'll be able to go home once it's done," Cat explained. "And I'll be there with you the whole time, so you don't have to worry about that, okay?"

"Are they…" Sam looked down at herself, "Are they taking off the whole left side?"

"I'm not sure. The man said they just wanted to remove the lump, so… maybe not the whole thing," Cat replied, trying to sound positive. Sam looked very upset, and it made Cat's heart clench painfully. "I know it probably doesn't help much right now, but… you should know that I still think you're sexy. No matter what."

Sam just shook her head. "With one boob? Yeah, I don't think so," she muttered.

"With one boob. With two boobs. With no boobs. You'll always be just as attractive to me. I promise," Cat insisted, looking in her eyes. She paused, then said, "Is there anything I could do to cheer you up?"

"Not really," Sam mumbled.

"You sure? Nothing at all?" Cat slid her hand slowly up Sam's thigh. "'Cause I'll do anything."