Terrorcest one shots

(part 2) Remembrance

On a plane to Jackson Wyoming, February 4th, 1987

Vince rocks Mari back and forth, shushing her softly. She's been crying for a little over 30 minutes, and not even the pain meds are helping. 

She's been doing okay these past few days, and even managed to bounce back from hospice care not too long ago. She was on the brink of death, maybe she still is. They brought a nurse along, just in case, and lots of medical equipment to try and make this trip as easy as possible. Nikki anxiously casts a glance over as Mari chokes on a wail. Vince is holding her close to his chest, having draped a blanket over her shivering body. Under the blanket, wires snake out. Tubes that lead to the central line needle in her chest, from a large IV infusion pump machine that has been rolled just behind Vince's seat.

He moves closer to them, kneeling on the floor beside Vince's seat to rub her back, humming a soulful, bluesy tune. She whimpers and cries, her body shaking constantly. It may not seem like it, but she's actually feeling better than she has been.

Not too long ago, she was on her death bed. Every day, there were 5 or so hospice care specialists in and out. Mari didn't care.  She barely opened her eyes, and when she did, it was to scream in agony. Cancer is smothering her body slowly and painfully, eating at everything her body needs to survive and shutting down her organs. She's developed a new tumor in her lung, as well as the cancer in her blood and spinal fluid. 

She's had chemo, radiation, trials of chemo, transfusions, surgeries, and a bone marrow transplant. They're continuing with the chemo in a desperate attempt to try and kill the poisonous cells, but Vince wants to take her off all medication soon and let her live out her last couple of days, knowing that she has no chance of survival on chemo anyways.

But, despite her shaking and crying right now, she is better. She woke up this morning and planted a huge kiss on Vince, and even managed to hang out with Mick, Nikki, and Tommy.

Tommy joins Nikki on the floor of the plane, leaning up against his shoulder, kissing his cheek softly. In truth, Tommy is worried for Nikki. Nikki has such an attachment to Mari that it's almost like they're father and daughter, and he knows that Nikki will probably spiral when she dies.

when.

not if.

Boy, that's a hard thing to handle. She fought for so long, and she fought so hard, that none of the Crue had a doubt that she would beat the cancer. They completely stopped the last leg of their theatre of pain tour when she was diagnosed, and haven't hit the road since. Life stopped, but time moved on. Time is fragile, time is fleeting, time ticks down, and it's unfair that some people have a shorter amount than others. But maybe, some people don't need a long time to make a difference. 

When the plane lands, Sharise (Vince's wife) and the nurse, Kayla, unhook all of the IVs and gently wake Mari up from where she finally fell asleep, half in Vince's arms, half stretched across Nikki and Tommy. Mick asks her if she needs help getting off of the plane, telling her that he'll carry her. 

"No uncle Mick, I can still walk." She chirps, shakily walking down the stairs, Kayla in front of her, and Vince behind her, so that if she falls she can be caught easily.

"Good job kiddo." Mick cracks a smile.

"Now you can pick me up.." She mumbles, taking one of Micks hands.

He picks her up, careful to avoid touching her port, and she lays her head on his shoulder, visibly exhausted. They get to their rental cars pretty quickly, and Mick is reluctant to give Mari back to Kayla, Vince, and Sharise. He puts her in the back seat gently. "No!!!" She protests as Sharise tries to buckle her seat belt for her, kicking her feet out.