"This is for every time you thought you would not see the sun again, this is for every time you felt the need to justify yourself for hurting for hoping for grieving, this is for every cold night spent alone and in tears without believing that you would ever come out from it, this is for your journey from heartbreak to healing from darkness to light from cold to warmth from his painful love to the softness of your own arms, this is for you."
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a/n: so I am always hesitant about adding religious aspects into fanfics, so i kept it really minor here, just a heads up!!
"Thomas, this is good news." Dr. Monica had long since returned from her maternity leave. Now that she was back, she stood at his bedside after yet another scan. She looked at him with a furrowed brow, her hand on her hip as doubt and confusion filled her gaze.
"I know." he said quietly, though he couldn't help but feel a pit in his stomach. He should be happy; he knew he should. With his type of cancer the survival rates are slim to none so hearing this should have ignited hope in his chest. So why didn't it?
"Thomas, what's going on?" she asked softly. Thomas couldn't look at her, couldn't look at the woman who was giving him good news while he knew that Newt lay in the hospital with nothing but negativity. He closed his eyes, trying to hide the sorrow he felt.
"Nothing." he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. Why was this so hard for him? He had his whole life ahead of him now, or more so than he did before. His scans did not indicate that he was cancer free, not yet but he was headed toward the right direction.
"Thomas." she said sternly, and he heard a button click. She must have turned off the coms system that connected them to the office behind the glass. She pulled up a chair, and sat next to him on the bed. "What is it?" she asked. He opened his eyes to look at her, and he hadn't even realized that he'd been crying until the chilled tear had hit his neck.
"Do you believe in heaven?" he asked her softly. Her eyes softened and she sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest.
"In my line of work I have seen too much for me not to believe." she replied. Thomas sighed, his hands balling up the sheets in fists. "Thomas, what's this about?"
"I don't know if I believe in heaven." he sighed. "What happens to people who die and they don't believe?"
"I don't know, Thomas, but you're not going to find out any time soon." she tried to soothe him, but he wasn't worried about himself. Not anymore.
"I think-" he choked on his words, he couldn't find a way to say this. Not without meeting his true fears. She waited patiently for him to finish, but he couldn't find the words. "Are you married?" he asked.
"Yes." she nodded in reply.
"Are you in love with them?" she nodded again, and Thomas inhaled deeply, trying to find the next thing to say.
