"Sister, we're two of a kind."

[foreverfabulous]

Who: Paris and Gen Hart
What: Family
Where: Mount Sinai
When: Saturday

Normally, Paris would go straight home after his treatment, usually to bed. Today wasn't a normal situation, though. Far from it. He had been kept in the loop with what was going on, but as much as he normally would have rushed tot he hospital to help out if he could, he wasn't well enough to hit the ground running. It would only make things messier if he was getting in the way in the middle of the night when shit was hitting the fan and he could well end up wiped out way worse for days. He had to be at the hospital at six am anyway, today being one of his early morning starts. Instead of getting Mikey to take him straight home, he went up to the ICU where he knew Gen would be. Mikey went out to hit the shops to get a get well present for Justin. Uncle prerogative, especially when you felt helpless in any other way.

Getting there, he immediately spotted a maintenance crew working on fixing the smashed window, the area cordoned off with hazard tape. He enquired what room Justin was in now, only to be gestured to the room directly in front of the large circular nurses' station in the middle of the unit. Made sense. Gen was sitting with Justin and he already knew Mark was at a doctor's appointment of his own. That was one of the biggest swinging factors for Paris to make sure he got there that morning, so Gen didn't have to do it alone. "Hey, fancy seeing you here. I was just in the neighbourhood, thought I'd stop by," he said, taking the seat beside her and leaning over to kiss her cheek. "I'd offer to get you coffee, but if I don't sit, I'm going to puke. How you holding up, sis? Any news?"

Comments

[foreverfabulous]

With that one snippet of advice, Paris veered close to tears and he didn't have the strength to hold it back. He kept as much composure as he could, but they welled up and spilled over when he nodded. "I told myself from day one with this fucking shit not to think about her, but it's like my fuckstick brain decided that day was Opposites Day. I told myself I would get too sick, I told myself chemo would be fine, I told myself I would keep working, I told myself I wouldn't need surgery, I told myself it'd be over in a few months. You know something Mom said one day? That she would never wish cancer on us. You, Dad, me. I overheard her saying it. Because she said it makes you feel like you want to give up on life, and it does. Some days, I don't even know how I keep fucking going. She fought as hard and fucking fast as she needed, and she still didn't win. Is it worth the fight, or am I going to die anyway? But maybe she is watching, and maybe I just need to grab my balls and keep fucking going. Somehow. I don't even have the strength to dress myself."

"Poor kid. I want to give him a hug. Mom would've loved Sash too. To the next universe and back. And I k now you think she would've been ashamed of you for everything, but you need to quit thinking like that. You got your shit together, you came back, you're fixing your family, and you have an amazing grandkid. Can you imagine how she would have been seeing him perform? You don't deserve any of this. Fuck. Don't say shit like that either. None of us deserve horrible shit like this, but shit happens. We're all still alive. I think that's the best we can do right now..." He just wasn't sure if that was a guarantee for him, like it wasn't for Justin. "We're going to get there. Somehow."

[asskickingblahniks]

No matter how many years passed, it never got easy for Gen to see her baby brother's tears. Paris had never been the sort to let his ego get in the way of crying. If he needed to, he did. Their parents had always taught them that showing emotion was okay. Their dad refused to let them be forced into bullshit ideas that they had to conceal their emotions. But after the bullying in high school and Paris' subsequent suicide attempt, she learned he had been shielding his emotions a lot. He seemed, on some level, to be doing that a little with the cancer. Pain seemed to make him cry, but it was like he was blocking himself from grieving over it. You didn't have to face a death to grieve. Grief could happen for many things, it only had to result from a loss. Paris was facing loss of dignity and independence. She knew, perhaps better than most else (save for Mikey) that that would be the hardest thing for Paris to be facing... not the possibility of death. He was usually so strong and self-assured. It was hard to see him broken. "Okay, but none of that was ever going to work, darling," she told him, wiping away some of his tears with her thumb, much reminiscent of how their mom did all those years ago. "Even if you don't know how, you will. You will keep fighting, because you've always been a fighter. People don't need strength to be a fighter, they just need to not want to give up."

She smiled through her own tears and nodded. "Oh, she would. She would have loved being a grandma. I know I would never have given Amarlie up if she had still been there, but I couldn't face doing it without her. I never would have had a stupid Vegas wedding and believed it had meaning. But then, I guess if she had been here and all that back then was different, I wouldn't have met Mark. He's the love of my life. I catch myself watching him just be a dad, and I feel this mindblowing pride inside. How much he keeps it together to keep going for Justin. For Sunshine. I'm really looking forward to the wedding. Not even just the wedding, but planning it. As a family. Something nice to look forward to through all this horrible shit."