One Timers

It’s never the news you want to hear. A malignant disease has riddled your body, and there’s a high chance you’re going to die. You have two options: let it ride its course and kill you in a couple months, or let the doctors inject you with chemicals after chemicals, and fight with everything you have. Except if you fight, you still might not make it more than a couple years.

There were a couple days in the beginning where I wanted to let cancer run its course. I didn’t want to fight. Why should I have to fight for my life? I’m only twenty two years old. I’m still just a kid. I’m in college. My family and friends shouldn’t have to worry about planning my impending funeral.

But then Brendan came home from his road trip and I had to tell him. I can’t even begin to explain how absolutely heart breaking it was to sit down next to my boyfriend of five years and tell him that I have cancer. That I’ve got eight months to live, and that even with chemo treatments I only have a 60% chance of surviving.

I never want to relive that conversation again. Brendan knew I hadn’t been feeling well lately. He knew I went to the doctor, and he knew that something was wrong. But I don’t think he ever expected for me to sit him down and tell him I have cancer.

I’m pretty sure I broke him. He didn’t speak for about thirty minutes. He just held me and cried into my hair until his body couldn’t produce any more tears. I kept telling him how completely sorry I was, and he would just shake his head.

The first thing he asked me was when I would start chemotherapy. I told him I wasn’t planning on it, and he looked at me like I was crazy.

“Tina, you have to fight. Fight for yourself. Fight for your family. Fight for us. For you and me. Baby, fight for me.” He sobbed. “Don’t leave me, please. I know I should have already asked you to marry me, but I’ve been waiting for the perfect time. I want a family with you. I want everything with you. You’re the only one I’ll ever want that with. Please, Tina. Please.”

Tina Gallagher.

It has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it? Since we were in high school, it’s the only name I’ve ever thought of. And everyone knew it would be mine one day. Brendan was right, I have to fight.

That’s why today, two weeks after being diagnosed, I find myself preparing for my first round of chemotherapy tomorrow afternoon. My doctors have warned me about all of the side effects. Changes in my appetite, extreme muscle weakness, extreme pain, nerve problems, possible infertility, and of course loss of hair.

I’ve already taken care of the infertility issue. I went to my gynecologist and had eggs removed and frozen. I may still be young, but I know I want kids in the future. I know I want kids with Brendan. If I survive, we can still have a baby together even though I won’t be able to carry it. And if I don’t survive, Brendan has the option to still create a baby with me. He doesn’t know that, but my mom does. In case, you know?

The one thing I’ve really been thinking about a lot over the past 48 hours, though, is losing my hair. My new-found desire to live has spurred me on to grab cancer by the throat and completely kick it’s ass. I’m not going to let cancer take everything away from me. No way. That’s why I’m in the Habs’ locker room after practice today, asking Brendan to help me control my fate.

“Tina, darling. How are you?” Danny Briere asks, noticing me first.
“I’m okay.” I respond, nodding my head.
“You nervous for tomorrow?”
“Yeah.” I admit.
“You’re going to completely kick cancer’s ass.” PK Subban says, overhearing our conversation.
“I hope so.”

I spot Brendan, who has no idea that I’m here, coming out of the showers and head over to his stall.
“Hey babe.” I say, placing my hand on his bare shoulder.
“Tina. What are you doing here?” He asks, surprise on his face.
“I came for practice, since I probably won’t have the opportunity to for a while. Plus I have something to ask you, and I was hoping you’d say yes.”
“Yes.” He says, running his fingers through my hair. I laugh.
“I haven’t even asked you yet.”
“It doesn’t matter. You could ask for the moon and I’d find a way to get it for you.”

I’m surprised he’s being so honest considering we’re standing in the locker room surrounded by his teammates, who are always looking for a reason to chirp someone. A statement like that would be enough ammunition for a year’s worth of ‘whipped’ comments. But to my surprise, no one says anything. Maybe it’s the idea that his girlfriend has cancer that’s keeping them from saying anything.

“Let’s go out to the car.” I suggest, suddenly not too confident in asking him here, with so many people around.
“Okay.” He says, giving me a soft smile. He kisses my cheek and turns to put his clothes on.

As I’m waiting, most of the guys give me long hugs and wish me good luck with tomorrow. Their love causes me to tear up a couple times, which surprisingly causes a couple of them to tear up as well. If nothing else, the Montreal Canadiens are a family. And anyone who is considered a part of this family is loved and supported like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.

“Ready to go?” Brendan asks as I hug Max Pacioretty.
“Yeah.” I say, intertwining our fingers.

I still can’t find the courage to ask him, so I stay quiet the entire ride home. I can tell Brendan knows something is bugging me, and he knows I have something to ask. But Brendan knows me better than anyone else, and won’t push me to talk until I’m ready. We’re finally home and cuddled on our couch before I find the courage to face him.

“I want you to shave my head.” I spit out, before I can psych myself out again.
He looks at me, searching my face.
“You’re the one who changed my mind. You’re the one who convinced me to fight. I’m fighting for you. For us. You said you’ll support me with everything. This is what I want.”

I feel tears welling up, and try my hardest to keep them back. But the wounded look on his face forces them out of me.

“Of course.” He whispers. “Anything you want.”
I sniffle, and notice that he’s holding tears of his own from spilling onto his face.
“And.... I want you to post a picture on twitter. For all of your followers to see.”
He looks at me, surprised.
“I want them to know that we’re fighting together. I promise out of your hundred thousand followers, hundreds of them are battling cancer themselves. I want them to see that I’m fighting, and give them reason to fight too.”

He brushes his nose against mine, letting his tears fall down his cheek.
“You’re amazing.” He says.

I press a chaste kiss to his lips, and get up to get the scissors and electric razor from the bathroom. Putting my long blonde hair into a high ponytail, I quickly braid it and head back out to where Brendan has pulled a dining room chair out onto the porch. He’s got his phone in his hand.

“One for the ‘before’ picture?” He asks, holding it up. I smile and he kisses my cheek, taking the selfie.

I sit on the chair and he takes the scissors from me, holding my long braid out. He positions the scissors above the first ponytail holder and makes a goofy face. I match his face and snap another selfie before he brings the blades together and I hear the sound of my hair no longer being attached to my head.

My head is suddenly lighter and I close my eyes, taking a deep breath. I feel Brendan’s hand on my cheek and his lips on my forehead. Through him, I find strength that I never knew I had before.

“One for the ‘between’ picture?” He asks, carefully.

I wipe the moisture gathering in the corner of my eyes and smile at him. He takes the picture and reaches for the electric razor, turning it on.

“Wait.” I whisper, shakily. He instantly turns it off and puts it down, squatting in front of me. “I-I can’t.” I gasp.
“Yes, Tina. You can.” He assures me.
“We do this, and-and it’s real.” I breathe.
“Believe me, I know. But it’s still real even if we don’t do this. This is your chance to stick it to cancer. You lose your hair when you decide. Not when it decides.”

I rest my forehead on his shoulder and breathe in his familiar scent. His arms wrap around me, rubbing wherever they touch.

“I don’t understand why this is happening to me.”
“Me neither. I would give up everything to make you better right now.” He says.

I sigh, knowing he’s telling the truth. That’s just how Brendan is. That’s who we are together. I would give up everything for him, and he would give up everything for me.

“Let’s do this.”

He presses his lips to mine before reaching for the razor. The machine buzzes and I turn on the video function on his phone, recording every stroke of his hand. A couple tears slip from my eyes, but I don’t make a big deal out of them. Eventually, Brendan’s work is complete and he leans down to press a kiss to my cheek.

I stop recording and turn to look at him, standing. He hands me the razor and sits in the chair, confusing me.

“If you’re shaving your head, so am I.” He says.

My hands shake as they run the razor across his hair, but I eventually get it done. Brendan holds my hand in his as he snaps our last selfie, and rests his head on my shoulder. He quickly puts the pictures together in a collage and composes a tweet while I brush the hair off the chair and gather our things.

“I love you, Tina.” He says as we head inside.
“I love you too, Brendan.”

Notes

I combined two requests here. Hope you guys like it. Made me cry a little.

Author's Note: If you requested something that didn't have a scenario with it, I'm bumping it farther down the list. I'm struggling creatively right now, so I'm gonna try to get all the ones that have specific requests done first. If you want to comment or send me a message and request something specific along with your player, it'll get bumped back up and it'll get done quicker. I'm sorry that kinda sucks, but I tried a couple different players in a couple different scenarios and I hated them all.