Monday morning was tense.  The appointment was at ten, so it didn't make a lot of sense to go in to work.  Blaine had already told everyone that he wouldn't be in until afternoon, so there was no one to call, and no arrangements to make.  Kurt tried to get Blaine to go to work and let him go to the appointment alone, but Blaine refused to consider it, arguing that Kurt would need someone with him to support him and advocate for him.  Kurt thought Blaine would be more of a basket case than an advocate, but he kept his thoughts on the matter to himself.  While what he told Kurt was the truth, Blaine was also worried that Kurt might just skip the appointment entirely.  Both were too nervous to eat, and their attempts at conversation didn't go well, so they puttered around the apartment, half avoiding each other, and trying to look as if they were doing something productive, although neither was.

Finally, it was time to go.  The ride was spent making aborted attempts to discuss what might happen.  After one or the other started a conversation with “What if . . .” half a dozen times, only to be shushed by the other telling him not to speculate until they knew what the doctor had to say, they gave up and just held hands until they reached the medical center.  Upon arriving in Dr. Miles' office, they waited nervously in the outer office until they were ushered back into her private office.

Shortly after they were seated in the office, Dr. Miles entered, a grim expression on her face.  “Kurt, Blaine, it's good to see you again.  I wish it was under better circumstances.  Unfortunately, Kurt, the bone marrow biopsy did confirm that you have leukemia, specifically acute myeloid leukemia.  The tests also indicate that it's fairly advanced.  We need to do a couple of more tests to determine whether or not it has spread, and then we'll start treatment.  I'm going to explain all that in a minute, but right now do you have any questions about the diagnosis itself?”

Blaine looked at Kurt, who appeared stunned.  With tears running down his face, he asked softly, “What should we expect?”  Inside his mind was screaming at him that this couldn't be real; losing Kurt was not possible.

“Well, leukemia is generally considered very treatable.  That's the good news.  The bad news is, as I said, his leukemia is pretty advanced, and Kurt is fifty-six, and we tend to have better results with younger patients, although he's not elderly, which is good.  That being said, I'm still optimistic.  We will, of course, have to see whether or not it has spread; if it has, that's not good – still not the end of the world, but it will make things more difficult and decrease the chances of a good outcome.  We'll also have to see how Kurt responds to treatment.  Everyone is different, and some people do quite well while others that we would think would respond well don't.  We need to hope for the best.”

Kurt shook himself out of his daze.  “When?”  He was going to fight, he would beat this; he just had to get past the Fashion Weeks.  “I can be back after the first week of March.”

Dr. Miles looked up sharply.  “AML is very serious.  If not treated, it can be fatal within a short period of time.  We can't wait until March.  We need to start treatment now.  I have your tests scheduled for this afternoon, and we should start treatment immediately afterwards.”

Kurt's brain kicked into overdrive.  It was late January.  He had New York's Fashion Week in less than a week, followed in quick succession by London, Milan and Paris.  February for him was always about work; when he could, Blaine would go to Kurt, usually in Milan, for Valentine's Day, or maybe London for his birthday, but it was always understood that Kurt's shows would be the top priority in February.  He spent most of the time between the September shows and now preparing for them.  He could do the tests now, schedule treatment around his New York show, maybe skip an event or two, then see other doctors in London, Milan and Paris for whatever treatment was necessary during those shows.  That could work.  “The Fashion Weeks are about to start.  It's the busiest time of the year for me.  Can't I do the tests now, and just take whatever medicine I need to take during the shows?  These shows are all in major cities with good doctors and hospitals.  I could go see doctors around the shows and events, whatever I need to do.  Just tell me, and I'll do it, but I can't cancel.”

Dr. Miles stopped him.  “Kurt, I understand that you have things scheduled, but you're either going to have to cancel, or have someone cover for you.  We can't delay treatment, and you're going to be in the hospital.  We're going to admit you.  You'll have a lumbar puncture to see if there are leukemia cells in your spinal fluid, to see if it has spread to your spine.  We'll also do a PET scan to see if there are any signs that it has spread anywhere else, and we'll be looking particularly closely at the swollen lymph nodes.  They aren't characteristic of this type of cancer, so I'm cautiously optimistic that they aren't a sign of the leukemia spreading.  Once we do those tests, we'll be starting you on an intensive regimen of chemotherapy, by IV.  That will take a week, but it will destroy a lot of bone marrow, both healthy and unhealthy.  Your blood counts will drop, and it will be difficult for you to fight infection.  You may need a transfusion.  You are going to have to be very closely monitored.  You're going to be here between three and five weeks before you can go home, or anywhere else.  On top of that, you won't feel up to doing anything.”

“Can we have a minute alone, please?”  Blaine interrupted.  He knew he had to talk to Kurt now, get him to see reason.  He had to get him to see beyond the next few weeks. 

“Sure.  Then we can talk about Kurt's treatment.  We'll talk about scheduling and about what to expect.”  She stood and left the room.

Kurt turned to Blaine, “I can't just cancel the shows.  Buyers are coming in from all over the world for these shows, not just the host countries, as if they wouldn't be enough.  All the fashion magazines, everyone.”

Blaine decided to be blatantly honest.  “Sweetheart, you're going to have to stay here.  You don't have to cancel the shows, but you have to send someone else.  You've planned all the shows down to the last detail, and everyone who works for you knows how to follow your instructions to the letter.  They can do this.  It doesn't mean they don't need you, it means you've prepared them well.  And these shows are not worth your life, no matter who is coming.  You have to fight this disease, and you have to do it now.  Later is not an option.  You have to do it for yourself, and for me, and us, and the kids, and everyone else who loves you.”

“But I can't-“ Kurt broke in.

“Yes, Baby, you can, and you will.  It's not what I want either, but we don't have a choice.  I wish it was different.  I wish you were going to be off at the shows ignoring your phone when I try to call you.  Maybe we'll be back there next year.  But this year, you'll be here.  Your plans, our plans, have changed.”  Blaine was trying to be rational.  He was trying to not cry anymore.  And he was praying Kurt would give in.

“Who?  Who do you think I can send?”  Kurt demanded.

“Who were you going to take with you?”  Blaine asked.

“Amanda.  She always goes.  She's my best assistant designer.”  Blaine knew this.  A few years ago, Kurt began letting her have her own line under his label.  She was the only designer he'd ever given this honor to, the only one he trusted enough.  From a design standpoint, she was his right-hand man, so to speak.  “And the usual team of dressers, make-up and hair people, the same ones who always go.  But running it is too much for one person, especially if they've never done it before.  Amanda can't do it alone.”

“So, Amanda takes your place.  She'll need someone to help her.  Fine.  Who's next on your list?”

As Blaine had known he would, Kurt answered without thinking or hesitation, “Jeremy.”  Jeremy was young and ambitious.  He reminded everyone who had known Kurt starting out in the fashion industry of a young Kurt, and Kurt liked him a great deal.  He'd been toying with the idea of giving Jeremy his own line for about a year, but hadn't pulled the trigger on it yet.

“Fine.  It's decided.  Amanda will take over for you this year, and will execute your plan; Jeremy will help her.  You'll stay here and get better.”

“But – “  Kurt made a final attempt to protest.

“No buts.  I'm going to get Dr. Miles.  We need to talk about what's going to happen.”  Blaine stood and went to the door.  Opening it, he told Dr. Miles they were ready to continue the conversation.

She reentered the room and took her seat.  “Are we on the same page now, as far as the timing of your first treatment goes?”  She inquired.

Blaine looked at Kurt, who was clearly still not fully on board, but was no longer actively protesting.  “Yes,” he said, giving Kurt's hand a squeeze.

“Okay.  Good.  As I was saying, you'll enter the hospital today, and we'll do a couple of more tests.  I got a call while you were talking, and they need to push your PET scan back a few hours, so they'll do it this evening.  Once the tests are done, you'll start chemotherapy.  As I said, you'll spend three to five weeks in the hospital, depending on how you respond to the chemo and how well you recover.  This first phase is called induction chemotherapy.  If all goes well, and tests show that the induction chemo has eliminated the detectable leukemia, you'll go through several rounds of what we call consolidation therapy.  The goal of consolidation therapy is to clean up any cancer cells that weren't killed by the induction therapy, but aren't showing up in your bone marrow biopsies.  Doing this reduces your chances of relapse.  Assuming all goes well with the chemotherapies, with your type of cancer, your best chances for a good long term outcome will be with a bone marrow transplant.  Your best probability for a match will be with a full sibling.”

“I'm an only child.”  Kurt stated quietly.

“It's certainly not your only option.  What about other blood relatives?”

Kurt shook his head.  “No.”

Blaine interrupted, “We have a daughter.  Biologically, she's Kurt's.  She's his only living blood relative.”

Again, Kurt said, “No.”

Looking at him, Blaine began, “Baby, we have to –“

“I said no,” Kurt snapped, “I don't want Ellie to go through what I went through.”

Dr. Miles broke in, telling him, “The test to see if she's a match is painless and non-invasive.  It's just a cheek swab.  Unless she's a match, that's all we do.”

“I don't want her in the position of having to do any of it.”  Kurt stated with finality.

“She's an adult,” Blaine pointed out, “She should be allowed to make this decision on her own.  She can decide if she's willing to do what is necessary to help you, if she's a match.  And if you don't give her the opportunity, she's going to kill us both.”  He was well aware that Ellie would be willing to die for Kurt, for either of them if the truth be told.  There was no doubt in his mind that she would be tested, and that she would willingly donate bone marrow if she was a match.

“Not if she doesn't know about it,”  Kurt said.

“If you have no living blood relatives willing to be tested, or if none of them are a match, we look for a match among non-relatives, but it will be harder to find a match.  Which still does not mean impossible, so don't give up,” Dr. Miles continued.

“We'll discuss this later.”  Blaine had to get Kurt to come around.  The doctor had made it clear that Ellie was Kurt's best chance, and he knew she'd be willing; he just had to get Kurt to agree.  He couldn't give up this easily.

Dr. Miles was ready to move on, and let the two men work this out amongst themselves.  “We're a long way from being ready for that.  Let's talk about what you can expect immediately.  As I said, you're going to be in the hospital for three to five weeks.”

Kurt seemed to register that he would be staying not just in New York, but in the hospital, for the first time.  “Wait – can't I stay at home, just come in during the day for treatment?”  And here we go, thought Blaine.  He knew Kurt had never spent a night in the hospital, whether as a patient or not, other than when acting as a coach for Jess.  When his mom was ill, he was much too young to be permitted to stay with her, and the same determination had been made, over his objections, when his father was ill when he was in high school.  During Burt's later illnesses, Kurt had either been away or had deferred to Carole, allowing her to spend the night with her husband.  And when Ellie was born, they refused to let either of them stay with her through the night; that dubious privilege was reserved for parents who might lose their children during the night, and thank God, she was never that critical, mostly needing to grow and gain the ability to regulate certain functions and gain skills she should have gotten in the womb.  So home, great.  Hotels, fine, although he never slept as well when away from home.  Hospitals, no.  The thought that for at least the next three weeks the hospital would become his home was incomprehensible to him.  “My dad had cancer, but never stayed in the hospital for treatment.  I've known other people who had cancer and just went in during the day.  Can't I do that?”

Dr. Miles answered apologetically.  “No.  I'm sorry.  Your chemo regimen will be very, very intense, and there will be a lot of side effects.  We need to manage your health in the hospital.  Let's talk about what you can expect.”  Kurt still seemed to be in shock.  He didn't say anything.  “As I told you earlier, your blood counts will drop.  That means that you'll be more susceptible to infection.  Depending on how you're doing, we may decide to give you antibiotics to prevent infection, or we may hold off, and just treat any infection you get if you actually do get one.  My leaning, right now, is to go ahead and give you antibiotics as you already seem to be trying to fight something off, so your resistance is low right now and it's only going to get worse.  You'll probably start bruising easier, and you may have other bleeding issues due to low platelets.  We can give you a transfusion of platelets if necessary, but that's something we'll have to watch closely.”  Blaine winced inwardly.  The bruising could get worse?  He couldn't imagine how it could get worse than it already was.  Dr. Miles continued, “You may also have to have transfusions of red cells, if you become too anemic.  The anemia, which is expected, will make you tired, even more than you have been, and you may become short of breath, because you don't have enough red cells to carry the oxygen your body needs.  You may become nauseous, and may have problems with vomiting and diarrhea.  These issues used to be much worse, but now we have much better drugs to control them.  We'll go ahead and give them to you in the hospital, and when you go home, we'll send some home with you.  You may get mouth sores.  Things may taste different, and you may lose your appetite.”

“He hasn't had an appetite for a while,” Blaine interjected.

“That's not surprising.  We'll work with a nutritionist and try to find things that still taste okay and that he can tolerate.  There are no dietary restrictions, so anything he can keep down and that tastes good to him is fine.  One major focus will be to keep him hydrated, although he's already underweight, so we'll be trying to keep him from losing any more weight as well.”  Kurt didn't seem focused on the discussion.  “Moving on, Kurt.”  He looked up at that, bringing his attention back to Dr. Miles again.  “You will lose your hair, all of it – on your head, eyelashes, eyebrows, body hair.”

“No, no, no, no!”  Kurt stopped her.  “Like I told everyone years ago in Glee club when Coach Sylvester threatened to shave my head, I cannot rock that look!”

“What?”  Blaine was confused.  The fact that Kurt wouldn't want to lose his hair didn't surprise Blaine at all.  Even at fifty-six, he still had a thick, gorgeous head of hair that was just beginning to show signs of greying, and he was still emphatic that it always be perfect; Blaine was the only one allowed to see it any other way.  He just couldn't figure out how their old cheerleading coach had anything to do with Kurt's hair.  They had both been cheerleaders at one point or another, and while the coach had been a stickler about how everyone's hair was done, Kurt's carefully styled mane had always been well within her permissible limits.

“It was before we met.  Somehow she worked her way into being co-sponsor of the glee club, and in an effort to destroy us, she separated out the minorities, and made her own sub-group.  She threatened to shave my head if I talked to anyone still in Mr. Schue's group.”

Blaine still didn't understand.  “I hate to be the one to have to point this out, but you are a white male.  How were you a minority, especially at McKinley High?”

“A gay white male.”  Kurt clarified.

“Oh.”  Now it made sense.  A twisted kind of sense, but when it came to Coach Sylvester, that was about the only kind there was.  “First, you can rock any look you choose to.  You've always been able to.  Second, like the rest of this situation, you really don't have a choice.”

Kurt shot him a pleading look.

“I'm sorry, Baby.  Look at it this way.  It's an opportunity for hats.  Set a new trend.  You know as well as I do your look gets copied, no matter why you do it.”  It was true.  Kurt's penchant for layers, born partially from his fashion sense, but primarily from his intolerance to cold, had been dictating men's winter fashion for several years, despite the fact that Kurt himself designed predominantly for women.  No one seemed to notice that more and heavier layers became trendier any time New York suffered a particularly cold winter.  “Who knows?  Maybe by the time your hair grows back, every man who pays attention to fashion will be shaving his head.”

That at least won Blaine a small smile.  Kurt looked at the doctor and asked hesitantly, “Will it grow back?”

“Yes,” said Dr. Miles, smiling.  “It will.  It will take a few months after the end of chemo, but it will grow back.  It may come in grey, which may or may not change.  If you were younger, I'd say that eventually it would go back to your natural color, but at your age, it might stay grey.  Frankly, I'm envious of your color.  Without going into too much detail, I'm younger than you are, and I've been dying mine for years.  But if it comes in grey, and you want to do something about it, I'll give you my stylist's number – she's great.  Your hair may also come in curly.  That will probably change eventually.”

“Curly?”  Kurt sounded incredulous, and looked at Blaine with a flabbergasted expression.

Blaine laughed.  “Don't worry.  I'll teach you to deal with it if it happens.  It's not the end of the world.  I've lived with curls for fifty-four years, and I've somehow managed to survive.”  Turning back to Dr. Miles, he asked, “When is he going in?  Right now, or later today?”

“Well,” she answered, “I would have said now, but since the PET scan has been pushed back until later this evening, he should check in by mid-afternoon, around three.  But Kurt, don't eat after two o'clock.”

“At least I can pack,” Kurt said.

“You don't want to bring much,” Dr. Miles said, “You'll be in a gown most of the time, so you won't need pajamas or clothes.  A robe would be good.  Toiletries if you have things that you particularly like.  Nothing valuable.  No jewelry.”

“What about my wedding ring?”

Dr. Miles sighed, “I can't tell you not to wear it, but I will say that unfortunately, there have been instances in almost every hospital of jewelry disappearing, even jewelry that people were wearing.  If no culprit is found, the official story is usually that it simply slipped off and got lost.  If it were me, I'd leave it at home.”

Blaine reached out and took Kurt's hand.  “I'll keep it, Sweetheart.  It'll be ready for you when you come home.  I couldn't bear it if anything happened to it.”

“Okay,” Kurt said quietly.

“Do you have any more questions?”  Dr. Miles asked.

“No,” Blaine said, and looked at Kurt, who shook his head.

“Then I will see you later this afternoon,” she said, standing and shaking hands with both men.

* * *

On the way to the car, Blaine called Max Brenner's and got a lunch reservation for five.  It was okay, but not one of their favorites, and it tended to be busy and crowded.  However, it was closer to where both Ellie and Patrick worked than most of their favorite places.  Kurt looked at him curiously.  “We have to tell the kids.”

Kurt's shoulders slumped.  He knew that was the deal, and he knew Blaine would tell them whether he liked it or not.  He decided to try for whatever he could get.  “Fine.  We tell them about the leukemia.  But we do not mention transplants.  Understand?  I really mean it.”

Blaine wasn't happy about it, but said, “Fine.  I won't talk about it today.  But if they ask questions, I'm not lying.  And if it comes to that, and you have to have a transplant, I will go to Ellie.  I don't want to lose you, and I know she'd agree with me.”

Staring straight ahead, Kurt said in a definitive tone, “It won't come to that.”

In the car, each pulled out his phone and began to make calls.  Blaine's all went about the same way.  “Hey, it's Papa.  Daddy and I need you to meet us for lunch at Max Brenner's.  Yes, today.  No, it can't wait.  There's news you need to hear.  No, I can't discuss it on the phone.  Okay, we'll see you in about an hour.”

Kurt's calls were to work.  He told Jenna to prepare a statement announcing his absence from the Fashion Week shows and panels due to personal reasons.  He also told her to contact the panel organizers and find out who would accept Amanda as a substitute, and to tell the others that he had to withdraw due to unforeseeable and unavoidable circumstances, and that they should find someone to take his place.  He then called Amanda and told her a health issue had come up and he had to pull out of the shows, and explained to her that she would take his place.  He told her which of the many plans he had drawn up to use, and told her to prepare Jeremy to assist her.  He explained to both women that he would be out of the office for a while, but would be in touch by phone. 

After Kurt hung up for the second time, Blaine asked, “Everything set up?”

Kurt responded, “As set up as I can get it from a phone in the back of a car when what needs to be happening is that I need to be in the office getting ready for my shows.”

That reminded Blaine that he needed to cancel his afternoon as well.  He called Paul, then Adam.  After a brief exchange, Kurt heard a terse, “Not yet.  Soon.  Look, you've been griping about wanting more responsibility, so step up to the plate and take some on, for God's sake.  If the meetings can't be delayed, take them for me.  Keep me in the loop, but this is nothing you can't do.  Fine.  Goodbye.”

“Adam?”  Kurt guessed.  Adam had never been a writer, but had been claiming he wanted to direct and become more involved in production for a while, yet never seemed ready to do more than talk.  He was a great dancer and choreographer, and quite a competent singer, and had been a great right-hand man to Blaine for years.  The only great source of friction between them now was that Adam said he wanted more responsibility, yet never seemed to have the ambition to take it, and apparently was now reluctant when it was handed to him.

“Adam,” Blaine confirmed with a sigh.

The car pulled up to the restaurant with just over half an hour to spare.  “Want to walk down to the Strand and see if we can find something to read?  It sounds like you may have some time, and TV's never really been your thing,” Blaine suggested.  While the restaurant was just okay, the bookstore was one of their favorite haunts.

“Okay,” Kurt agreed.

Upon arriving, the two separated.  Blaine looked through the mysteries and general fiction on the first floor, grabbing a few things that caught his eye.  He peered around for Kurt, but couldn't find him, so he called.  “Where are you?”

“Second floor.”

“Be there in a second.”  Blaine found Kurt a few minutes later with a small stack in the fashion section.  Looking at his choices, he inquired, “Would you like to find something other than things you could have written better yourself and which won't just piss you off?”

“I'm already pissed off.”

“Fine,” Blaine gave up, “Meet me downstairs at checkout in ten.”  He then went back down to find something for Kurt to actually read, as opposed to look at and critique.

After checking out, they walked the block back to the restaurant.  On the way, they discussed how to tell the kids.  It did not go well, full disclosure battling against as little information as possible.  By the time they arrived, each was annoyed with the other. 

Fortunately, Patrick was waiting just inside, and Ellie was stepping out of a cab.  Each gave her a hug and kiss, then walked in to hug Patrick.  Ellie wasted no time, asking “So what's the big news?” 

Kurt and Blaine exchanged a look, then Blaine said, “Let's wait for the table and Ian.” 

“You probably woke Ian up when you called,” Ellie pointed out, “So he's probably going to be late.  I say we start without him.”

“He was probably rehearsing until late.  His band does have a tour coming up,” Patrick, as usual, came to his brother's defense.

“Yes, and we must all cater to the god of rock and roll,” Ellie shot back, rolling her eyes.  “Eew.  Your hands!”  She exclaimed, finally focusing on her brother.

Patrick flushed slightly, looking at his paint stained hands.  “Sorry.  I was in the middle of a restoration.  I'll wash them again, but it probably won't all come off.”  With that, he headed toward the restrooms in the back of the restaurant.

“Ellie,” Kurt said quietly, “Please don't fight with your brothers today.”  She responded with a quiet huff, but then nodded.

As Patrick returned, Ian entered, sweeping the mop of straight black hair from his face.  Ellie seemed poised to make a sarcastic remark, but looked to Kurt and quieted.  The hostess called them, and they were seated.

It was Ian's turn to ask, “So, what's up?”

Kurt shook his head, “Not now.  Let's order first.”  Ian and Ellie looked impatient.  Patrick, ever the sensitive child, looked nervous.  The waitress took their order.  All three of their children looked from Blaine to Kurt and back.  Kurt said, “After the food comes.”

Finally, the food arrived, and Ellie deemed the time right to push again.  “Well?”  She demanded.

Kurt toyed with his fruit and yogurt.  He'd only ordered to appease Blaine, but couldn't see any way to eat right now.  He looked up at Blaine desperately.  Blaine took his hand and squeezed it, then turned his gaze from Kurt to the kids.  “Your Daddy hasn't been feeling well lately, and so the doctors have been running some tests.  He has leukemia.”

Patrick looked lost, Ian confused.  Ellie took charge.  “How serious is it?  There are different types, right?  What kind of treatment are they talking about? And what did you mean by ‘lately?'  How long has this been going on?”

Kurt didn't look capable of speech at that point, so Blaine answered Ellie's interrogation.  “Apparently he's been sick for a while, but neither of us really realized that it was more serious than just being tired and run down until last week.”

“And you didn't think you needed to tell us?”  She demanded.

“I didn't want to scare anyone if it was a false alarm.”  Kurt had regained his ability to speak, unwilling to let Blaine face Ellie's anger alone.  “And the doctor seems to think it's pretty serious.  It is acute, and they're putting me in the hospital later today to run more tests and start chemotherapy.  Apparently I have to stay there for a few weeks.”

“Wait – what about Fashion Week?”  If nothing else about Kurt's career had soaked in, Ian had managed to remember that the month that was “Fashion Week” was important, and he thought it should be around now.

“I, um, I have to skip it this year,” Kurt said quietly.  That silenced all three for a moment.  None of them could fathom their Daddy skipping Fashion Week unless someone's life was at stake.  Somehow, the simple fact that he was not going made this much more serious and real.

Ellie was all business.  If there was a problem, there was a solution.  One simply had to find it.  “Has the doctor discussed a way to cure it?  What about a bone marrow or stem cell transplant?  I've heard they can eliminate leukemia.”

Kurt shot a look at Blaine, which Ellie caught.  “Don't get mad at Papa.  He didn't mention anything other than that we had to meet you for lunch because there was news.  Those transplants aren't exactly a secret.  They are discussed in the news, which unlike others in this family, I do keep up on.  But by the look I'm guessing the topic has come up with your doctor, and you don't want us to know.  Why?”

True to his word, Blaine hadn't mentioned the possibility of a transplant, but he would not lie or deflect Ellie's question.  “Your Daddy's best chance of finding a donor match is with a blood relative.”

“So, in other words, me.”  Ellie stated simply.

“Yes.”  Blaine answered, ignoring Kurt's eyes desperately pleading with him to just shut up.

“From what the doctor said, and note that she never said the word cure, she just talked in terms of positive long term outcome, if it ever comes to that it will be months from now.  And we'll find another donor if I need one.”  Kurt insisted.

“Why not me?”  Ellie demanded.

“I've had to have bone marrow taken, for the biopsy.  I know what it feels like.  I don't want you to go through that.”  Kurt explained.  Surely, she'd see reason.  She had to, she was his daughter.  But, said a voice deep inside his head, you'd never let anything stop you from helping someone you loved, not even pain.

“Ah.  I see.  Good thing it's not your choice, and at this point what you want doesn't count nearly as much as your health does.”  Kurt opened his mouth to object only to have his daughter continue, “And, since I'm a legal adult, you really don't have a say in whether I'm tested or not.  I could be matched with you as a relative or as a stranger who just happens to match, but if I'm a match, you will be getting my bone marrow.  Now eat.  You clearly need to.”  God help him when she joined forces with both Blaine and Dr. Miles.  He'd never be permitted to make a decision by himself again.

Both boys jumped in, volunteering to be tested.  Blaine took over.  “Thank you.  And I'm planning to be tested too, as I'm sure a lot of our friends will be.  But, from what the doctor said, Ellie is our best shot, since she's related by blood.  If it were me, you'd be much better candidates than she would, but since it's not me . . . .”  He trailed off, wishing with all his heart that it was him, not Kurt.

The remainder of lunch was spent discussing the treatment plan, the few details they knew about the hospitalization, and other matters relating to Kurt's health.  Kurt, however, tried not to listen, tried not to participate, tried to pretend, for a little while longer, that none of this was happening.