A/N: I've attached a graphic of Hope Anwer as portrayed by Ryker Lynch.
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Chapter X: If Only I

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"It is only with true love and compassion that we can begin to mend what is broken in the world. It is these two blessed things that can begin to heal all broken hearts."

― Steve Maraboli, Life, the Truth, and Being Free.

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Dex called the office of Leslie Richards that afternoon, and booked an appointment on Thursday for a consultation. He knew he wouldn't be able to be there, because of his own work schedule, but he also knew that Timmy didn't want him there, probably wouldn't ever want him there the way things were progressing. He went ahead and gave them his credit card information, even though he knew it was a really stupid thing to do. He had never seen this place, he didn't know this woman, but it was either that or send Timmy and Haley off on their own with access to his bank account, and that would be an even stupider thing to do, he knew. He might love Timmy, but he didn't trust him. Not anymore.

He called Haley to tell her the time and place, and it went straight to the generic voice-mail with the bland-voiced man telling him that 'that the user was not available'. He hoped she was out getting food, and wondered if he should print them out a few recipes. Half an hour later he was a click away from purchasing a crock-pot for them on Amazon before realizing just how meddlesome that would be. If there was one way to surely alienate himself, it was trying to act like a parent to Timmy and Haley, like they were errant children incapable of anything. He shut down his computer and went to make his own dinner.

He didn't hear back from Haley.

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He still hadn't heard back from her on Thursday, the day of the appointment. He had no idea whether Timmy ever got there or not, or whether Leslie Richards had promised to help him, or was some sort of elaborate scam artist. He hated it. He hated being just as invested in this as they were, yet being tossed to the side, continually used and then discarded. He hated that he could lose so much, and wasn't allowed control over any of it.

Once he got home from work, he tried calling Haley again. It rang this time, before sending him back to voicemail. Dex cursed and shucked his tie across the room. He headed for his bedroom and changed into a sweater and jeans before heading right back out the door.

He took a moment in the elevator to consider his options. He realized that, with fifty thousand dollars now out of his hands, even if he knew he had funds to back him up, it might be a smart idea to start braving the subway every once in a while. One thought of the state of the subway at five-thirty in the afternoon, however, was enough to convince him that his adventures in public transportation can wait. He hailed a taxi instead.

Baby Place was devoid of life when he arrived. No boys on doorsteps, no cars pulling in or out, no strolling couples. Dex paid the cabbie and stumbled out into the light covering of snow dusting the pavement. There was a slick sheen of ice leading up the steps to Dex and Haley's door, and Dex nearly slipped at the top before catching himself on the door handle. His hands scrabbled against the wood as he righted himself and then knocked briskly.

"Timmy? Haley? It's Dex, can you let me..."

The door slammed open, and Timmy's face replaced the peeling paint. "Hey," he chirped. "We're making burgers, you want one?"

Dex couldn't help but think that he could know Timmy for a thousand years, and still be continually surprised by him. He never did what Dex thought he would. It was unnerving, exciting, and every time Dex couldn't help but love him a little bit more for it.

"I don't want to bother you," he said, running his hand through his hair.

Timmy shrugged. "Well, you already are, so might as well eat, right?"

"Thanks for that."

"No problem." Timmy swung out of the way and ushered Dex inside before closing the door. "Just throw your coat on the floor."

Dex did as ordered. The smell of meat cooking had already permeated the hallway, and he could hear the sizzling of someone working in the kitchen.

"Haley, make some more!" Timmy yelled, already stomping off down the hall and into the living room.

"It's Dryde, isn't it?" She called back, and Dex rolled his eyes.

"Hi Haley!" He called, following Timmy into the room.

The smell might be the first thing he noticed, but the most important thing was that there are paint smears on the floor. Canvas was strewn everywhere, brushes tossed haphazardly aside, tubes of half empty paint littering the space from corner to corner. New paintings were pinned up on the walls, still glistening wet and shining, green and blue and purple.

The fact that Timmy's been painting again filled Dex with more relief than anything.

Haley was working over the stove, grilling burgers over a pan that hissed and spat grease up into the air. She glanced over her shoulder to nod at Dex before turning her attention back to the stove. The fact that Haley's cooking was another surprise-somehow Dex could never imagine Haley subjecting herself to such menial tasks.

But again, it would be between Timmy and Haley as to who cooked, and he knew Haley wanted Timmy painting as much as he did, even if she never said it out loud.

"If I'd known you'd come to check on us, I would have just answered the damn phone," she told him, pressing a spatula into the burger and making it sizzle.

"Then answer the damn phone next time," Dex answered.

Haley began to reply, but Timmy ignored the exchange completely, choosing instead to flop down cross-legged on the floor and drag some tubes of paint toward him along with a piece of canvas. He dabbed small amounts of the paint straight onto the back of his left hand, and nabbed a dainty paintbrush off the floor. He used his own skin as a palette, mixing and swirling and stroking the paint from his body onto the canvas, and it was only seconds before the ghost of a person emerged from the pigments.

"Hey!" Haley barked, drawing Dex back out of Timmy's movements. "Could you listen for five seconds?"

"Did Timmy go see the oncologist?" Dex fired back.

"I don't see why you have to be hounding me..."

"Because I'm paying and I want to make sure..."

Timmy's voice cut them off, soft and simpering and laced with a threat. "Could you two please shut up now? I have a headache, and you guys screaming at each other isn't helping."

They both stopped immediately, and Timmy smiled before diving back into his work. Haley narrowed her eyes at Dex and flipped him off.

"And your answer is yes," Timmy added, and the tension in Dex's chest loosened and slid away. He dropped to the floor next to Timmy and watched as he began to add details to the face-the eyes, the mouth, the slope of the cheekbones.

"What did she say?"

"Nothing. Took some scans. MRI and stuff. Expensive shit." Timmy swept the eyebrows across the face. "She's gonna call when they have the results." He stood up quickly, stumbling only a little before righting himself. "'Haley, is dinner ready yet?"

"Maybe if I wasn't doing this all alone."

"Right." Timmy reached up and swept his hair off his forehead with his left hand. He jumped when he felt the cool touch of paint across his skin. "Oh..." He pulled his hand away and groaned. He had left a perfect smear up his face into his hair.

"I'll help Haley," Dex said quickly. He stood and trotted into the kitchen, where Haley shanded him the spatula wordlessly and stepped away from the oven. Dex took over the burgers while she fetched buns out of the cupboard. She delved into the refrigerator, and Dex was relieved to see it stocked full of food-milk, eggs, vegetables, fruit. At least they'd put the money into good use. Haley grabbed some tomatoes and a head of lettuce and began washing them at the sink.

"Do you want onions?" She called to Timmy.

"No," he answered, "Because if I have them you'll have them and your breath will set the place on fire."

"Look, I know you don't like the cigars but..."

"No onions, Haley."

Dex chuckled into the spit and sizzle of oil.

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Timmy remained the bridge of conversation between Dex and Haley for the entire night. He was cheerful, and snarky and witty and everything Dex could remember from before. It was like he never disappeared, never got sick, never needed Dex for his money. It was like Dex never told Timmy he loved him. Dex left a few hours later with Timmy's promise that he would attend his next appointment.

The unpredictability of Timmy's nature may made Dex love him all the more. But the fact that Timmy never mentioned the doctor, his sickness, didn't acknowledge that he had been at Dex's throat for weeks, didn't give any indication at all that something had changed between them... It's frightening. It's frightening because Dex didn't understand what's going on in Timmy's head and because of that he had no way to help him.

He wondered if something had changed, and remembered Timmy's fear of the tumor beginning to affect his personality, and felt sick. What if this wasn't Timmy at all?

There could be nothing crueler, Dex thought as he walked to the nearest subway station, using his phone to get directions, than a disease that leeched away the essence of who you are. That made it so you could not trust yourself, couldn't even be sure who this 'you' really was. And even if the tumor wasn't causing personality change, wouldn't the fear be just as strong? Because Timmy could never know if how he felt, how he thought, was his true self talking, or something twisted and sick curled up in his head.

Just who did you become, when confidence in the concept of 'you' was suddenly gone? What could you do when the only thing you could trust to tell you about yourself was the history of your actions, from back when you could believe in your own thoughts?

Timmy ran from the history of his actions.

Dex dashed down the steps to the subway and went to purchase his ticket. He tried to see Timmy objectively, erase the brightness of his eyes and the flash of his smile. He thought about him based only off of what Timmy had told him about his past.

A child with deceased parents. A boy, abused and neglected by society. An orphan, abandoned and unloved by his only remaining family. A victim, bullied until he couldn't face the thought of going to school the next day. A runaway, who couldn't stand up for himself.

Was that how Timmy see himself, every day? And was that all he could see?

Dex bought a one-way ticket for the green line and followed the signs to the landing, allowing himself to be drawn by the crowd of other people heading the same direction.

Dex knew he already didn't have the most positive self-image. Now, he tried to erase his personality and think about himself in terms of his past.

The thing about remembering your past, he realized, was that you don't remember the little things. That time you waved back to the children on the bus. When you stopped and patted the dog tied up outside a store. When you made someone laugh.

The only things Dex remembered clearly were the things he regretted, because those tend to stick to your mind and cling there, like sea urchins on a rock face. And all he saw in himself was an abominable coward. Too scared to face his girlfriend after the fight, too terrified of that final rejection to confront his father, too frightened to follow in his childhood dreams, content instead to slap on a suit and a smile every morning and watch little numbers dance away with his years.

Worthless.

So how must Timmy felt, forced to live out every day a scenario Dex just imagined for twenty seconds?

The rush of sound assaulting his ears signaled the arrival of the subway. Dex allowed the crowd to rush his movements, sending him through the doors and to the back corner. He reached up and latched his hand to the ceiling bar and held tight as the passengers settled and the doors closed once more. The subway jolted and began to move.

And he wondered. Wondered how Timmy stood it. Wondered how he thought, how he felt, how he saw himself.

He remembered the broken painted figures, all in sickly yellow, and was pretty sure he knew the answer already.

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Haley called him on Monday. Dex was in the middle of a meeting when he felt the buzz in his pocket, and he shifted uncomfortably and drew the phone out, checking the caller I.D surreptitiously under the table.

The anxiety injected itself into his bloodstream and trickled through his veins in an instant. He shoved the phone back in his pocket and waited for the vibrations to stop. His colleague to his right shot him an interested look, and Dex focused his attention back on the woman giving the presentation of stocks.

As soon as the meeting was over, however, he grabbed his briefcase and dashed out the door to his office, dialing back as he went.

Haley picked up on the third ring as Dex collapsed into his seat. "Finally!" She huffed.

"I was in a meeting," Dex said quickly. "Is Timmy alright?"

She went quiet, and all Dex could hear was the sound of her slow breathing.

"Haley?"

"He'll be alright," she said at last, and her voice had taken on that soft quality it did when she'd forgotten about keeping up her shields. "He went back to the doctor today. Thought you should know."

"What did the doctor say?"

Haley sighed. "Got the scans back. It's...still there. He said s-surgery with chemo would probably be the best way to get rid of it."

Dex nodded to himself, repressing the quell of fear rising in his stomach. His emotions were the last thing anyone should be worrying about. "Okay. How's Timmy taking it?"

Haley didn't say anything for a while, then finally: "I think...I think he hoped maybe it wouldn't be so serious. When he took the scans...I guess the doctor was optimistic, 'cause it's benign, but now he's talking about months and months of chemotherapy and...Timmy...he hasn't come out of the bathroom. He locked himself in hours ago."

"How's his prognosis though?" Dex pressed. That was the most important aspect, right now at least.

"I don't know. Timmy doesn't want me with him for his appointments, and he only told me about the surgery thing before throwing a fit."

"Do you want me to come over there?" Dex asked. Her tone grew sharp instantly.

"I don't need your help Pryce," she snapped.

Dex swivelled in his chair to face the window and rubbed at his face. "I'm not saying you do. But it would make me feel better."

"Fair enough. But if you start telling me what to do again..."

"I'm not," Dex promised. "So, can you ask Timmy if I can talk to him? On the phone? Just for a few minutes."

She sighed again, much more dramatically this time, and muttered, "Lots of good it will do you." Suddenly the sound of her breath disappeared, replaced by the squeak of hinges and thumping. She must be walking up the stairs, Dex figured. The thumping stopped, and there was the sound of rapping. Haley's voice called out, "Hey Timmy? Your animatronic wants to talk to you. I think he might piss himself with worry if you don't let him."

There was a pause, then another squeal of the door opening, and Timmy's voice, low and raspy. "I don't think animatronics piss, but I understand the sentiment."

There was a rustling, and then Timmy was loud in Dex's ear. "Sorry about Haley. What's up, Wall Street?"

The old nickname stroked a chord of relief around the area of Dex's lungs. "Hey Timmy," he murmured. "I heard about the doctor."

"I'm sure you did." Timmy sounded like he'd been crying. He probably had been.

"Is there anything I can do for you?" Dex stood from his seat and strode over to the window, staring out over the buildings and biting his lip.

"Keep paying?" Timmy joked dryly. Dex didn't laugh.

"Do you want me to come over there?" He asked seriously, and he heard his words growing higher in pitch and becoming more and more frantic as he continued. "Please, let me know. I can be there in half an hour if you need me to. I just want to know if I can help..."

Timmy's gentle chuckles faded away, and Dex found his voice growing weaker again until he slid into silence. Timmy still didn't reply. Dex strained to hear the sound of his breathing, but he couldn't. Finally, he ventured, "Timmy? Are you alright?"

"You..." His voice was rough, and so soft Dex had to strain to hear it. "This really is about me getting better for you, isn't it?" There was wonder there, as if Timmy was actually amazed that someone would care that much about him, even when Dex had been trying to pound that sentiment into him for weeks.

Dex swallowed, throat constricting. "Yes, of course," he muttered.

"Oh."

Dex went back to his desk, cleared away some of the papers, and perched himself on top. "Timmy?"

"Yes?"

"I won't abandon you."

He heard the sharp inhalation of breath, and then the tender silence. "Alright," Timmy finally replied, sounding close to tears once more.

Dex smiled, hugging his free arm around his chest. "Now, do you want me to come over?"

"No," Timmy answered immediately, but then, shyer, he went on. "But...would you...would you want to come to my next consultation? I wouldn't ask but Haley has work and...and..."

"Of course I'll be there," Dex promised. "When is it?"

"Next Wednesday, at two. It's nothing much, just...talking about the...the surgery and when I'll have it and stuff."

He would have to skip work, but Dex didn't give a damn. "Okay. How about I come to your house around quarter to one and we'll go there together?"

"Sounds good. So...I guess I'll see you then?"

"I guess so. Um...I'll talk to you later."

"Yeah."

"Right."

"Bye then," Timmy said. "Um...thank you, Dex." The call ended.

Dex slid off the desk and into his chair, smiling to himself, and very, very slowly, began to cry. He didn't know why, exactly, but once he'd started, he couldn't find the will to stop.

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When he arrived at Baby Place the next Wednesday, he was greeted by a grey-faced Timmy at the door, wrapped up in three sweaters and a scarf that threatened to engulf his entire head. "Hey," Dex said softly. "Are you doing alright?"

"Just fine. Can we go?" Timmy shuffled outside and locked the door behind him. Dex nodded, and lead Timmy back to the cab he'd used to get there.

Timmy didn't say a word besides giving the cabbie the address for the entire ride. He just leaned against the door, propping his chin up on his hand and staring out the window. Dex used his phone to check email, even if all he really wanted to do was watch Timmy and made sure he was going to be okay. Finally, the medical center came into view. The cab pulled up on the side of the street, and Dex paid while Timmy slid out onto the sidewalk.

"Which building?" Dex asked, as the taxi pulled away. Timmy pointed, and they set off across the lot towards it.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Dex asked again as the door opened for them and they slipped inside, rubbing the chill from their hands. It was close to Christmas now, and if the temperature was anything to go by, it would soon be a white one.

"Dex," Timmy sighed, "I think maybe this will work better if I'm able to accept that I'm not alright, and you stop asking me."

Dex rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "I'm sorry."

They headed for the third story, and slipped into a small door under the sign 'ONCOLOGY'. It was a simple waiting room inside, with a single older couple in the corner, clutching at each other's hands and bowing their heads together.

"Sit down." Timmy's hands on his shoulders, pushing him towards a chair. Dex obeyed, and watched as Timmy went to the receptionist and leaned over the counter to whisper to her. She nodded, and pushed a paper across for him to sign. Timmy returned and flopped down in the seat next to Dex, and immediately closed his eyes.

Dex casted around for a magazine and pulled up People from the nearby table. It was gossipy, not his usual read, but it was a relief to be able to fill his head with the woes of celebrities with millions of dollars, to imagine that those were the worst problems you could have-stretch marks caught by paparazzi, gaining ten pounds, a DUI. It seemed so simple that way, so unimportant, yet it was these silly things that flew from mouth to mouth, it was these names that people knew around the house.

Finally, a nurse in a prim white uniform that reminded Dex of the movies emerged from the door leading into the examination rooms. "Timothy Ryeille?"

Timmy opened his eyes and stood slowly, and Dex caught the tremble in his limbs. He reached out quickly and grabbed Timmy's hand, stroking along his skin once with his thumb before letting go. Timmy glanced down at him in surprise for a second, before giving a weak half-smile and heading for the door.

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It was an hour and fifteen minutes before Timmy came back. Dex spent his time sorting out the payment plan at the desk, playing Street Soccer on his phone, and reading the jokes sections of Reader's Digest. Other patients drifted in and out, some with families, some all alone. Dex didn't register the click of the door until a pair of feet appeared in his vision, and he quickly put the magazine down.

"Hey." He smiled up at Timmy, whose lips trembled and curled as if he was trying to reply but just couldn't seem to. "Are you ready to go?"

Timmy nodded, and started for the door before Dex's even stood up. Dex rose to his feet quickly and hurried after him, taking long strides with his long legs.

He pushed out the door into the quiet hallway, and found Timmy slumped up against the wall, eyes closed and breathing heavily. His fists clenched and released helplessly at his sides, and his pulse jumped visibly in the exposed stretch of his neck.

"Timmy?" Dex asked, careful not to get too close.

Timmy shivered at the sound of his voice, and slowly drew both hands up to cover his face. "January sixth," he mumbled into his palms.

"Sorry?" Dex rested his back against the wall beside Timmy and waited.

Timmy's hands slid back down, and his eyes opened, wiped clean of expression like chalk off a blackboard. "January sixth," he repeated. "That's...that's the day they want to...want to do the surgery."

Dex sucked in a breath between his teeth, allowing his back to slip a little further down the wall. But he didn't say anything. That was not what Timmy needed. Instead, after a moment, he held out his hand midway between their bodies, palm up.

Timmy turned his head to stare at the offering, not blinking. Then, slowly, he brought his hand up and placed it in Dex's. It was an anchor. A reminder. The warmth of hand, to tell him he was not alone in this, no matter how it might feel sometimes.

They walked together down the hallway, hands swinging between them.

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"Would you maybe like to come here for Christmas dinner?" Timmy asked him when Dex dropped him off at Baby Place. They stood together on the top step, Timmy's key already jammed into the lock but not turned. "Or...is your family...?"

"No, no family," Dex said quietly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. Timmy was watching him, biting at his lip, and Dex hated that Timmy would feel sorry for him. He shouldn't be that sort of distraction.

"You can come here, if you want," Timmy offered again, beginning to fiddle with the hem of his sleeve. "It won't be fancy but...but I don't like the idea of someone being alone on Christmas."

His eyes flickered to Dex's face, and a pink flush tainted his pale cheeks. He seemed so shy, so young all of a sudden, and Dex couldn't do anything but chuckle and whisper, "Okay. I'd love to."

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On Christmas day, Dex woke up late, made coffee, made an omelet, and slowly unwrapped the small pile of presents he'd kept in the closet. A new watch from his family, a gift card from Jon, a knit scarf from Davis, and a box of chocolate covered pretzels from Mrs. Windsor next door. He showered, got dressed, and settled onto the couch to watch Battleship until it was time to leave.

At four-thirty, he bundled up in his jacket, grabbed the little bag which had Timmy and Haley's presents, and headed for the ground level.

The streets were nearly empty, or as empty as you would ever find them, and large flakes of snow had started to filter in through the clouds. Dex caught a few on his tongue before realizing how insane he looked.

If all the snowflakes were candy bars and milkshakes...

The flakes fell to the ground and accumulated on top of the slush and ice already left from the storm two days ago, crystals sparkling dully in the murky sunlight.

The cabbie he found remained very quiet the entire way. Dex wondered if he had family at home missing him now, or if he was all alone today, like Dex would have been except for Timmy. He dropped Dex off at Baby Place without a word, and Dex stomped through the snow to Timmy and Haley's steps.

The sound of his fist on the door seemed louder, now, amplified by the falling snow, and he winced, almost expecting a neighbor to poke their head out and yell at him for being so noisy.

There was the sound of footsteps from inside, and the door swung open.

"Hey, Merry Chri..." Dex began, holding up his bag as a peace offering, but stopped when he realized that the person standing in the doorway was neither Haley nor Timmy.

"Um...hello?" He asked.

The guy blinked slowly. "Are you from the North Pole?" He asked, looking him up and down. "You're tall for an elf."

Dex stared at him, taking in the immaculately-jelled hair, the designer jacket and jeans, the spray tan. "No," he replied finally. "I'm Dex. Is...is Timmy there?"

Comprehension dawned across his face, and he nodded. "Yeah, he's inside. C'mon!" He turned and bounced away down the hallway, leaving the door wide open. Dex hurried inside after him, toeing off his shoes and shutting the door before following into the living room.

There was a shoddy strand of Christmas lights pinned right to the wall on top of the paintings, and what looked like a potted shrub in the corner decorated with a popcorn strand. Piled by the shrub was a little group of unwrapped presents-Dex spied a sweater, some books, and a small vial of perfume.

Somehow, that little shrub was one of the most depressing and uplifting images he could remember seeing in a long time.

Timmy and Haley were seated side by side on the couch, sides pressed together and holding tight to each other's hands. They glanced up together when Dex entered, and Dex started when he realized that Haley was crying, the tears dripping down her eyelashes and down her cheeks.

"Hi Dex," Timmy greeted him, voice husky. "I see you've met Hope."

"Oh. Oh." Dex turned to the blonde, who waved jauntily before flopping down to sit cross-legged on the floor.

"You've come at sort of a bad time, I'm afraid," Timmy muttered, snuggling closer to Haley and dropping his head onto her shoulder. Dex nodded, fiddling with the bag in his hands.

Haley shuddered, hiccuped, and turned her face helplessly towards Timmy. She drew her knees up onto the couch, and Timmy reached around with his other hand to pull her into his chest. "I can't," she whispered, "I can't do that."

Timmy patted her hair and shushed her soothingly. "It's okay," he murmured, "It's okay."

"Haley, I don't get it. Why are you crying?" Hope piped up. "It'll be so much fun!"

Haley shook her head wordlessly as Timmy raised his head to press a kiss to her hair.

"You should," he whispered, and she moved her hands to clutch at the front of his shirt.

"I...I...I..." she stammered.

"Is there something I can help with?" Dex asked helplessly, feeling very much like a forgotten shadow. Should he just turn around and leave? But no, because Haley was crying and he couldn't leave her, not now.

So this was what it looked like when a heart was battered and bruised and finally dissolved completely. This was what it looked like when someone strong took a hit too many at a vulnerable place and shattered. Haley raised her head to stare at him, and all he saw in her eyes was hopelessness. She didn't give him an answer.

"Haley..." Hope sighed, and pushed up off the floor. He sat next to Haley on the couch with a bounce, and Dex watched the way that Haley automatically opened up to him, like she had always done. Offering everything she had only to have it stolen.

Hope wasn't bad, Dex remembered. He just never learned how to love properly. But suddenly that seemed like the worst thing a person could do.

"Haley," Hope said again, placing a hand on Haley's thigh. "Please? Please come with me? We'll have so much fun and Alexander is so nice and I don't want to be so far away from you!"

"Hope..." Haley lifted her face to stare at the guy, eyes puffy and mouth slack. "I can't. Please don't...please don't go...please don't make me choose..."

"Why can't you come?" Hope stuck out his bottom lip in a pout.

Timmy sighed, and Dex remembered that they had never told Hope about the tumor.

Haley shook her head at Hope and whispered, "Hope...I can't...I can't leave Timmy..."

"But it's only for a few years! C'mon Haley...please?"

"Do it," Timmy said, and his voice was harder and sharper than Dex had heard it ever before.

Haley whipped her head around to glare at him. "No. No, I can't leave you here. I..."

Dex couldn't take it anymore. "Hey!" He snapped, and all three of them turned to stare at him. "What's going on? Is there anything I can do to help?"

Haley hiccuped again and Timmy shot Dex a warning glance before mumbling, "Hope's boyfriend is moving to Italy to film this movie trilogy. He wants to take Hope and said he could bring Haley too if he wanted. Apparently threesomes turn him on or something stupid like that."

And suddenly Dex knew. He knew what was going on in Haley's head, and he pitied her, even though she would resent it, because she was made to choose, and the loss would be just as great on either sides.

What could you do, when the person who had torn and crumpled but ultimately owned your heart asked you to follow? Could you say no?

Would you try that last time, to try to prevent them from slipping away completely?

Could you chase them across the world, hang tight with trembling fingers for as many years as you could? Could you be second-best, a shadow to another person, if it meant that at least you were allotted some love, any at all?

Haley would. Dex knew this. Her heart had been destroyed so many times that she would take any chances she could get, she would do all she can to sew her life back together, to recreate a fairy-tale and a high school romance. She would follow Hope to the ends of the earth and beyond, waiting and hoping and praying that someday that director boyfriend will no longer be a necessity, that she alone can provide for Hope's needs, that she could make Hope love her in the way Haley needed to be loved.

How was it fair, then, to ask her to choose between a final chance and the person who waited for her at home, loving her just as much but just not in the way she wanted? Because Timmy loved Haley, and he needed her, but he could never fill her the same way that Hope could.

But how could Haley be expected to choose between the two?

Timmy nodded knowingly as he puzzled it out, and Dex knew Timmy had read him as easily as he would a kindergartener's picture book.

Timmy was telling her to go. He wanted Haley to have her last chance.

He would give her up, if it meant Haley could have one last shot at the love she needed. He would give her up when he needed her the most because he loved her, loved her so much but in the wrong way.

And Dex knew what Timmy wanted him to do. What he had to agree to, because Timmy was about to suggest it.

Haley wouldn't leave Timmy. She couldn't leave him now-he had no job, nobody here to take care of him. And he needed someone to look after him, because he was going to have what amounted to brain surgery in less than two weeks, and then chemotherapy for months after.

But there was one other person who Timmy knew will look after him, without thinking about it twice.

"Haley, I want you to go with Hope," Timmy said again. "Italy, right?"

Hope nodded enthusiastically.

Timmy stroked Haley's hair and pulled her hands from the front of his shirt. "I want you to go. You need to be with Hope, okay? You need this. He needs this. I'll be alright."

Haley stared him down, looking completely unimpressed. "You idiot. You're not going to be alright. I can't leave you here! There's rent and who's going to look after you if you have another seizure and who will..."

Timmy met Dex's eyes, his cheeks slightly flushed but his eyes was determined and Dex nodded back, heart thumping in his chest as he realized what he was agreeing to.

"Dex," Timmy said. "I'll go live with Dex."

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αυтнσя'ѕ иσтє:

A shoutout to Jamey @xXJamJamXx for his endless support, his over-protectiveness and his love. (Eh, this looks oddly similar to that of an epitaph. =.=)

And of course... Mucho gracias to you all for hanging on with me this far! My apologies to those who'd been bombarding my inbox for updates, I had had alot on my mind lately and I had to put off writing for abit. I'm back though, so YAY me!

Anyways, what do you think of Hope's proposition? What is going to happen to dear old Tim? And is Haley gone for good? *dum dum dummmmm*

Your answers will soon be answered...until next chapter!

*offers everyone a rum n' raisin snow cone*

PS. If Only I by Jon Mclaughlin.