In Love with the Prince (of Darkness, That Is)

After a delay at the airport, they were on their way home, and Dreama was upset about it. It wasn't so much that she had to leave California (though it had been strange, in a nice way, to not have snow at Christmas) but the reason she had to leave California.

She'd known that Taylor's disease would stop him from doing things the way everyone else did, but she hadn't fully realised until that point that it was also going to effect the way she lived. It wasn't a big deal--there were far more superficial reasons to leave a vacation early than the threat of cancer--but it was annoying.

And though she wouldn't admit it to anyone, and especially not to Taylor, she was positively terrified. Cancer wasn't something that had a good track record in her eyes--she heard stories every other day, about this or that rather famous personality that had died after a long (or often short), tiring battle. Would Taylor end up as just another statistic on a sheet of paper?

The plane landed late in the morning and Taylor went with Dreama to her apartment, where she left her things, wrote her brothers a note explaining that she was back and would call them later, and then the two left for the hospital.

Taylor, who, Dreama knew for a fact, hadn't gotten a moment's rest on the flight, stared out the car window the whole time. Dreama tried to hold his hand once, but he pulled it back and turned the rest of his body away from her, leaving her hurt and confused.

The doctor was waiting with Mr. and Mrs. Gable when they walked through the doors, and he didn't look like he had good news. Dreama's heart lurched, and she reached out to put her hand on Taylor's shoulder. He shrugged her off almost rudely and looked at the doctor. "Let's do this," he suggested, and his voice was hollow. The doctor nodded and motioned over his shoulder.

"CT room's this way."

"Go sit down," Taylor commanded gruffly, and then he walked off with his parents. Dreama saw the look of satisfaction on his father's face and couldn't help the tears that started gathering along her bottom lashes.

Taylor looked back for a second when they reached the doors at the end of the hallway, without a hint of emotion on his face, and then walked through.

Dreama stalked angrily over to a bank of chairs and sat heavily in the only vacant seat, on the end, next to a woman who held a baby in her arms.

"His parents don't like you, huh?" the woman said.

Dreama looked over, startled. "How can you tell?"

"His dad looks like a real jerk."

Dreama shook her head. "I'm sure they're just scared," she defended. Now that she got a closer look at the woman, Dreama guessed that there couldn't be much of a difference in their ages.

"So are you. Friend, or boyfriend?" she asked.

"Boyfriend."

"Worst place to be," the woman murmured, looking down at her baby. "Outside looking in, knowing there's nothing you can do, but loving them with all your heart."

Long moments passed in silence, and the room gradually began to empty. Dreama sat idly, looking at her hands, feeling impatient, and losing track of time.

"What do they think he has?" the woman beside her asked after what felt like hours.

"Skin cancer. Melanoma."

"Ooh. That's vicious."

"I don't know much about it, actually."

"I do. My mother died from a melanoma."

"Died?" Dreama echoed, shocked. "How do you die from skin cancer?"

"Melanomas develop underneath the skin first, where the pigment cells are. In very rare cases, they won't show up on the outer layer of skin until for a long time, and by then they can have infected the lymph nodes."

"The what?"

The woman smiled patiently. "They help to trap infections and build up immunity," she explained. "They're all over the body, neck, collar bone, lungs...."

"Neck?" Dreama whispered, her blood chilling.

"There's a really big one right by the jugular."

"Oh."

"Is that where the tumour is?"

"Yeah." Dreama was afraid to ask the next question, but the woman didn't make her do it.

"After that, the cancer cells tend to spread throughout the body."

Dreama put her head in her hands, and the woman put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Hey. It doesn't always get into the glands."

Dreama nodded.

"And even if it does, they can treat it. My mother was sixty-five years old--it's not exactly the prime age for fighting cancer. Don't give up before you even know what's going on."

Dreama nodded again, and blinked the tears away quickly.

The little baby tugged on her hair and Dreama looked up into her eyes, big, innocent orbs of blue.

Dreama waved, and the baby laughed, a loud infectious sound that had Dreama smiling.

"Her name's Hannah," the woman said. "I'm Gina."

"Dreama."

"She seems to like you."

Dreama sat up and held out a hand. Hannah grasped her finger and shook it around, making Dreama laugh.

"In fact, I need a coffee and a bathroom break. Would you hold onto her while I run to the cafeteria and washroom?"

"Of course." Dreama held out her arms and Gina placed Hannah in her lap before rushing off.

Dreama bounced the baby on her knee and hummed to her until both Taylor and Gina returned, almost simultaneously.

Gina came over and took Hannah back into her arms, and Taylor walked up.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"What about your parents?"

"They're gonna stay and talk to the doctor for a bit. They'll follow later."

Dreama nodded and stood, her volatile good mood destroyed suddenly.

"Nice to meet you, Gina," she said quietly.

"Hang in there, babe. It gets easier."

"Yeah," Dreama sighed, watching Taylor walk away from her.

"Make him let you in, no matter what it takes," Gina advised.

"He doesn't work that way," Dreama replied, sadly.

"He won't survive it alone."

*~*~*

"Would you talk to me?" Dreama demanded, following Taylor into his house.

He headed straight for the basement, stripping off his shirt as he went. "It's nothing."

"That's not fair!" Dreama cried. "You can't do that to me anymore, Taylor! Get over yourself for five minutes and stop trying to protect me!"

"This is--"

"I don't care what it is! Good, bad, ugly, I don't care! You have to stop blocking me out!"

"Then shut up for a minute and listen!"

Dreama fell silent, shocked.

"It's over, okay?"

"What is?"

"They catch it early. They thought they did, but it's worse than they said."

"What are you talking about?" she whispered.

"The cancer. It's... it's moved."

"Into the lymph nodes," Dreama said hollowly. Taylor raised an eyebrow questioningly, but she waved away an explanation. There would be time for that later. "So you'll fight it. We'll fight it. There has to be something--chemotherapy, or a surgery, or--"

"No, there's nothing," he interrupted.

"What do you mean nothing? There's always something!"

He shook his head. "Not this time. It's too far gone."

Something fell away inside Dreama's stomach, and she felt dizzy. She sat heavily on the bed next to Taylor. "How far gone?" she asked.

Taylor fished a piece of paper from his pocket and showed it to her. "That's my head," he muttered, and then he pointed to a toonie-sized black spot at the back of the skull. "And that's the tumour."