The Throne (Prince Harry fanfic #6)

Chapter Thirteen

After some time spent with his sons, with the girls not waking, Harry made his way back to the hospital. Already the rain had moved on, drenching everything in its path. He wished to walk there, as if he would make it to the hospital quicker than the car would in traffic. However, he wasn't allowed to get out; he was being watched. In moments like this, all of them were being watched. Everyone judged.

Returning to the hospital, paparazzi waited outside. Harry moved at a normal pace into the building, not too slow and not too fast. No rumors could be raised from normalcy in a non-normal situation.

His bodyguards came with him at all times, as Harry was brought away from the bottom and away from all prying eyes. Once in a waiting room,  a doctor joined the Duke. Settling down, she held a file in her hands with scans bulging out. The folder truly needed an upgrade. Harry said nothing.

"Your highness," the doctor said, "there appears to be a mass in Her Royal Highness' head, which seems to have caused her to lose consciousness and then hit her head. However, her hitting her head on the counter did not do any damage." She waited patiently as Harry took in the words.

"A mass?" He swallowed heavily, forcing the lump in his throat to his stomach. "What does that mean? Is it cancer?"

"We do not know if it is cancerous, sir. We will have to do a biopsy to find out."

"When can we do that?"

"We may need to wait a little bit until the patient has woken up."

"Do you need her consent? We're married."

"No, sir. While there is no apparent damage from her hitting her head, we will need to test if there is any damage. As well as we need to know of her motor skills before deciding what type of action is best."

"We have to wait?"

"Yes, sir."

"How long?"

"We're hoping in the next few hours."

"She can do that normally-- naturally?"

"We helped her sleep a little bit while scans were done to her so she didn't wake up and panic. The medication should start wearing off in a little bit."

Harry nodded. "What do the scans say? What about the mass? Aren't they all cancerous?"

"No, sir. There is benign and malignant, and what she has is a brain tumor. Or at least appears to be a brain tumor."

"Is it large?"

"Um...."

Shaking his head, he moved on. "Benign and malignant? I get those two screwed up."

"Benign," the doctor explained, "is when it's non-cancerous, so it won't most likely spread. Think of it as taking it out and done. No more, but with malignant, it's possible that the cancer has spread elsewhere. That course of treatment would include chemotherapy and radiation, among other surgeries."

"And you won't know--"

"Until a biopsy, correct."

Harry stared down at his hands, which buzzed. His fingertips were ablaze. His own vision blurred. A pounding headache of his own was coming on. Taking a deep breath, Harry focused again.

"Your highness, I'm sorry to step my boundaries but have you had anything to eat today? You seem a little..." she tapered off.

He knew he needed something to eat but he ignored it. That was a later problem. "What else?" Harry asked. "You must have more questions or something? Doctors always have questions."

The doctor looked down at her notes. "Have you noticed anything suspicious with Her Royal Highness of late?"

"How long?"

"How long have you noticed?"

"What's the time table?"

"Sir, we would like to know how long if she has been having symptoms that perhaps that's how long the tumor has been growing. It's probably been effecting her daily life, perhaps putting some strain somewhere. Usually in patients you can find that strains are put somewhere because of the extra stress on the body."

Harry paused at the word strain. Strain was everywhere. And he wanted it to all make sense. If Lucy had a brain tumor, that was what put strain upon the relationship, right? The answer was no. Well, it did put strain on the relationship but it wasn't the only reason. There were five kids running around. There were jobs and duties to be done. There was never ending paparazzi. Lucy's lack of friends and family didn't help. That and more put strain on the relationship. A brain tumor was just another thing.

And how didn't Harry realize? It was just another thing that Harry missed. He thought Lucy might be having an affair and he missed her birthday. Now he missed that his wife might have been sick for a long time.

"Have you noticed anything, sir?" The doctor waited.

Swallowing again, Harry forced himself to look up at the doctor. "She was having headaches, really strong headaches, and they would...." He couldn't find the right words. "Sometimes she looked nauseous, and she was always pale nowadays and sweating."

"Did she ever vomit?"

"I don't... I don't know," he admitted.

"Anything else?"

"She coughed a lot, so I thought she just had the flu. And vision problems," he said, realizing that she always read things at least twice now. "Sometimes she would squint at things but she always read it over and over again, especially like directions, like they didn't make sense or something. And she hated when the kids asked for help with homework, because it just didn't.... Her headaches got worse.

"I just thought she was tired, you know. We have five kids and not a lot of help sometimes, and then we work at odd times."

Harry hated to complain about his life, when he knew he barely did anything. He had a comfortable life and he didn't have to worry, ever. Money and a place to live weren't problems. He was fortunate. He didn't like to complain, and neither did Lucy. She was stubborn, and she never complained. She would've done it by herself in necessary. Nothing would've stopped her. Any pain she had, she wouldn't have said anything. For God's sake, she had been shot eighteen times before. Any pain now was nothing compared to them. Any time something sad happened, she didn't complain because she had her past to refer back to. Nothing hurt her anymore.

"How long have these been going on?" the doctor asked.

"I don't know," he admitted with a shrug. "I really don't know. I'm sorry."

"It's all right, sir, but now that we have more of an understanding, we might be able to use it to our advantage."

Harry shook his head. "Is it bad? No, will she be okay?"

"We will do our best, sir." The doctor stood and walked to the door. Before opening the damn thing, she paused. "Your highness, I hope she will be all right and we will do our best, because in truth, she is the reason I became a doctor."

Turning to face her, Harry didn't understand her reasoning.

"When it came out that you were dating, back then, just Lucy Smith; I was a teenager, who didn't fit in. And she didn't really fit in and she had a crummy past, but she moved past everything. She is grace and beauty, and she is powerful. I had never seen a woman so perfect, and I wanted to be just like her." The doctor smiled sadly. "I've watched her grow to become... well, I don't know, but she is the woman that I look up to still. She is magnificent."

He smirked. "That she is."

"And, of course, I was jealous that she got you."

Harry laughed aloud. "Don't be. When she wakes up, Luce can tell you all the stories of how much a handful I am."

"Even now, after all this time, I can see the love still there. It isn't an act. It's actually there, like it's always been." Cheeks turning red, the doctor couldn't believe she just said all those things out loud. She quickly left the room.

Staying still, at least other people thought there was love in his relationship. Harry hoped there was, but he couldn't say the same thing about his wife.