Tu Es Ma Lumière

187 - Struggle *Part 1*

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Side Note - Based in the same AU as the one where Francis needs a kidney donation so Mary gives him one of hers.

Side Note - In a similar or the same AU as my newest piece, Lifetime, that has just been published!

Inspiration - "Tell me, would you kill, to save a life?" - 30 Seconds to Mars - Hurricane

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The lights hurt. Even though his eyes are closed, he can still see the horrible strobes through his closed eyelids. They're heavy, reluctant to open. His body is heavy from the anaesthesia, he can feel a little bit of pain, but it's more than dulled because of the drugs he's on. His side aches, but his body runs smoother than it has in the last months. He's tired, but he knows he should open his eye.

"Francis?" the blonde can hear the sound of his mothers' voice. She sounds exhausted, worried for him like she always had been. It sends him back to his bone marrow transplant, when his mother gave birth early to Charles, while he and Mary had been doing their thing. Ah. Mary, his wife, his saviour, his angel, his light. The thought of his pretty wife makes his heart beat quicker. Where was she? Was she okay?

"Francois?" his father's voice is gruff, it tells him that Henry de Valois-Angouleme is emotional, and if there's one thing that Henry perceived as weakness, it was emotion. And if there's anything that he hates more than this whole situation, it's to be seen as weak. "Can you hear us, son?"

His parents sound worried, and even though he's a grown man at twenty years, it touches him. He grunts, having the ability to hear their breaths increase when his fingers twitch lightly. His father grasps his hand, an action so intimate and so foreign to Francis. His father had never been one to express emotion or fondness to him, even when he was sick as a child. 

He forces his eyelids to open. Henry and Catherine are there, rather to close to him, and they stare at him. They're pale, looking exhausted. But they smile at him, he tries his best to reciprocate, but he's so tired. Whatever drugs he was on, he liked this feeling. Warmth, contentment, sleepiness.

"Hey, you." Catherine whispers, fixing his hair. "How're you feeling?"

"Tired." he croaks. "Did everything-"

"Everything went fine, son. Your transplant was a success, you're going to be just fine, perfect, in fact." Henry states, leaning back up. "Your little brothers are excited to come see you tomorrow."

"I miss them."

"They're writing letters for you right now, let's see how you are in the morning, and we'll see about bringing them up for a bit tomorrow, hmm?" Catherine hums.

He nods, his eyes closing. "Is Mary-" he trails.

He misses the look that his parents give to each other because of his eyes being closed at this moment, but it's better for him to have. They must comfort him, despite their worry. Catherine bites her lip, wanting to tell her son the truth about her daughter in law and goddaughter, but she wants more to bring him happiness. So, she does what she thinks is best. So, she lies.

"Yes, my love. Your wife is fine. She's-she's sleeping."

He falls asleep soon after, quickly enough to miss the frantic beeping and the shouting in the next room. His parents are not so lucky, they manage to catch a glimpse of a young woman with black hair being frantically wheeled past the room, machines blaring louder than ever.

A few yards away, blissfully oblivious, a young red headed girl sits in the waiting room, her headphones blaring as she types away at her laptop that rests on her pink skirt.

"Tell me, would you kill, to save a life?"