Live

PART 1


When Dr. Reed told me I was out of remission, the cancer had come back, i stopped breathing. I wrapped my arms around myself, put my Ray Bans on, and told him i’d call him later about when i should start my chemo. This wasn’t the first time i’d heard this, hopefully though, it’d be the last. I got in my beat up volkswagen convertible, put the cover down even in the chilled spring air, and drove to work. The wind rushed around and i took deep gulps of air as i remembered the wires and machines, the paleness of my skin against my veins, the smells, the pain, the fragility. I heard someone beep their horn and realized i’d sat through an entire green light staring at the scars from the iv’s in my arm. I tried to focus until i pulled into work. I stared up at the building trying not to lose it. NCIS, the place i spent most of my time working as a forensic analyst.
         I loved my job, i got to wear a cool white lab coat, shoot guns, piece together stories, and have free reign over my office and equipment. My colleagues, the investigators, were some of my best friends. Leroy Jethro Gibbs, the lead agent, had been in my life since i was a teenager, knew me from before i was ever diagnosed. We were neighbors, I was best friends with his daughter, Kelly, but she died with her mom in a car crash when i was 13, the same year of my diagnosis. My parents were missionaries, and as i grew older they left more and more until they’d only come back a few times a year, and my grandmother lived with me the rest of the time. Even during chemo i told them i was fine and let them stay in China, or Africa, or wherever they were because i knew how important what they were doing was. Gibbs didn’t. He was lost, and i was sick. We stuck to each other like glue. He got me through to remission, and i got him through 5 years without his wife and daughter until i went to college.
         We kept in touch during college but i went to Salisbury in Maryland, a beach school far enough from D.C. to separate us for a few years. When i got out and had my degree in forensic science and military history, i came back to D.C. and Gibbs set me up at NCIS with him and his team member, Ryan West.
         Ryan and i had been best friends since the day i started. He had thick light brown hair, deep brown eyes, and an amazing sense of humor, sarcastic, like mine, but goofier. Needless to say, i was in love with him but he saw me only as his friend. But, he was always there for me, with chinese food or a song to dance to in my car, or a rational point of view for my occasional freak outs.
         I thought about them as i sat in my car, my hair billowing out behind me, my cheeks covered in dark freckles to match my dark brown hair, contrasting with my pale skin and royal blue eyes. I turned off my car and wrapped my sweater around me. I said hi to the security guard and walked through the metal detector, wondering if they could see the tumors in my stomach, what it would look like on the screen. I went up the elevator, trying to get myself ready to say it. To say i was sick. To face gibbs. To face Ryan.
         The doors dinged open and they were sitting there. Gibbs desk was the farthest away, next to the big screen, with no pictures up, just one in his drawer of Kelly and his wife Shannon, and one of me on my high school graduation. He was on the phone, probably yelling at someone, he wasn’t always the best with patience. Ryan was on his computer, reading something, his hair sticking out, his brown shirt high lighting his eyes. Then Ziva, across from Ry, playing solitaire on her computer, checking Gibbs every few moments to see if he saw. None of them had spotted me yet, so i studied them. Everything was ok right now for them. Working a case. There was probably bullet results waiting for me downstairs, and it was almost lunch so they’d probably just ordered out, waiting for food, not my bad news. Then Ryan looked up and saw me. He smiled, and i tried to return it. I couldn’t do this. Not yet. I took a shaky breath and walked towards them. “Hey Liv, how was the dentist?” he asked as i passed his desk to get to my lab, which was down a few halls. Gibbs looked up at me interested, still on the phone, and glared at Ziva. How he knew these things i had no clue, but her face grew red and she clicked off the screen. I looked back at Ryan, gave him a huge, fake grin, and in response to my lie replied, “No cavities.”
just tumors.

         In my lab i dropped my bag and sat down on my couch and put my head between my knees and tried to breathe. I switched on some John Mayer and felt myself shake in fear.
What would i tell Gibbs? Ry? The Director, i mean my boss had to know if i was taking time off, especially for medical reasons. Would it be as bad as last time? Last for as long? Longer? Would i lose my hair? Would i get deathly thin again? After i had gone into remission i ate everything i had even an inkling to taste, and got my healthy glow back and then some curves. I had never minded because i worked out because i had energy and because it meant i could stomach everything. Now, apparently, my stomach was mad at me for that again. Cancer’s some payback. I emailed my parents, knowing they wouldn’t get it for a few days, considering they were somewhere in Thailand without much electricity, so i had time to tell Gibbs on my own. After doing that my mass spectrometer beeped and i immersed myself in work to escape my reality. But i wasn’t in denial. Not at all.

Hours later i dreaded going home to be alone with my disease. But i had one last thing to do, one major downer before leaving. I knocked on my director’s door and he let me in. Director Vance, was a guy in his forties with 4 kids and a helluva job. He was fair, and gave leeway to his best employees, aka Gibbs’ team. “Liv, come on in. I was just finishing up for the day.” His office was neat and spacious, with creamy walls and a long desk full of important looking files. I sat in the chair opposite his desk and fiddled with my hands. “i need to tell you something.” He stopped what he was doing at the sound of my scratchy voice. “You ok, Liv?” i shook my head and looked at a fallen staple on the floor as i said slowly, “i went to the doctor today, and he said, he said my cancer is back.” he drew in a sharp breath. “you know in my file it says i had stomach cancer when i was 13, but went into remission the next year. But now it’s back, after 15 years, and i had to tell you because of chemo, which i’m probably starting next week. I don’t want a leave of absence, i want to do this. i want to be here. so i was thinking, just get an intern or something to help when i’m too sick or tired. would that, would that be ok?” i kept staring at the staple but finally met his gaze. He looked sympathetic and a little shocked. “Yes of course, Liv, i’m here to help you in anyway i can. Just let me know what you need and when. You were supposed to get an intern in a few weeks anyway, will you be ok until then or should i try to move it up?” I shook my head. “No, i’ll be ok for a few weeks. It won’t hit right away. It sneaks up.” i shuddered at the memory of the sudden ill feeling. “But listen, Director, i haven’t told Gibbs or the team yet. Please don’t say anything, i’ll tell them soon, but just, i need to digest this.” i smiled slightly, “ha. digest it. stomach cancer. that was a good one.” The director shook his head. “always a strange one, Liv. your secrets safe with me, go home, go rest. i’m thinking of you, don’t hesitate to ask for help.” I nodded and stood up as he watched me, probably looking for my weak movements or shakes, as if just the news of the cancer gave me side effects instantly. just wait, that’ll all be here soon enough.

As i walked down the stairs from the Director’s office, Gibbs watched me curiously. The team loved being next to the open staircase so they could get into the Director’s business. I walked to the main room into my favorite cubicle set, and sat down on Ziva’s desk. “Hey, want to go get drunk?” She looked at me, yanked my hair tie out of my braid and ruffled my hair into its curly fro, and said, “oh hell yes.” I grinned as she grabbed her coat. Ryan leaned forward in his desk and inquired, “where will this intoxication be happening?” i went over to him and dumped all his pens out on his desk obnoxiously. “everywhere you aren’t.” I looked like i was joking, but i wasn’t. i couldn’t see him tonight. couldn’t see him laughing and happy with his favorite Sam Adams and know i was lying to him about something so huge. Gibbs cleared his throat and i whirled around to see him right behind me. So quiet. His pepper grey hair was almost as light as his blue eyes. The wrinkles around his eyes and mouth were from earned smiles, and they moved as he said, “No, Liv. Where are you going?” i shook my head. the man knew my hangover history. but i knew i wouldn’t be able to even smell alcohol for a long while after this so i winked, grabbed Ziva by the arm, and ran to the elevator before those clear eyes staring into mine realized i was hurting.

         “I just love this place don’t you Ziver?” i slurred a few hours later at Callaghan’s Pub. I was sliding off my barstool and in jeopardy of giving some people a show as my dress slid with me. She was giggling next to me and nodded. The place was fairly crowded, but we were just enjoying each other, as well as the bartender who knew me pretty well since it was the only bar i went to. i was never much of a drinker so Gibbs or Ryan would find me anyway. “Liv, i’ve given you 3 shots. And you’re gone right now.” His name was Dwight and he had a ponytail and painted his nails with sparkles. “You’re gonna do great things in life, Dwight.” i told him and that set Ziva off more. He shook his head and moved on to other customers. We moved to the pool table and laughed for hours, sipping our beers and winking at cute but drunk guys at the bar. Every time i felt myself returning to normalcy or real life i’d take another shot and wash it down with beer. By 2 i was almost passed out and i told Ziva to call Gibbs, and as i said it, Gibbs showed up in the door. “How does he know these things?” she asked as she gave me my phone back. I missed my purse and it clattered to the floor. i started to laugh but nothing felt funny anymore. He picked it up and handed it to me as i replied with a huff, “i have no fucking clue, but he knows everything.” he smiled at me and nodded to Dwight as he pulled us to his car. He dropped Ziva off, saying he’d get her in the morning to take her back to her car, and we drove in silence to my apartment. “You only get drunk for a few reasons, Liv. An extremely bad case, something breaks your heart, or you want to avoid something. Which is it?” he asked as he stopped in front of my complex. The brick and ivy stared back at me. My head was leaning on the window and the coolness slowed my head down, but did nothing for my heart. “Goodnight, Gibbs.” i said and got out, stumbling to my apartment and locking the door quickly behind me, even though he had a key if he really wanted to pester me. I turned on the light in my bedroom, surveyed the “Crispy Blue” walls, white furniture, curtains, and fluffy rumpled duvet before turning off the light to avoid the emptiness of the room. The walls were bare, but i had tons of candles everywhere. Every other room of the house, even my office, was lined with photographs, hippie patterns, and things that made me comfortable and feeling loved, but my room, was a place of simple beauty. But tonight, as i sat there, my stomach churning with mixed liquors and my body heavy and ungraceful, i sobbed, begging God to get it out. Get it all out so i wouldn’t have to break everybody’s heart, and could just live with my own.

The next morning when i woke up i had a missed call from Ryan, and Dr. Reed. I skipped over Ryan’s message, knowing it was mocking my ability to hold liquor, and listened to Dr. Reed warn me to get rest before starting chemo on Monday, 3 days from now. He asked me to call him back to go over my treatment plan as soon as possible. I groaned and turned on my shower.
         After jumping in and out, grabbing a muffin and some tea, i drove to work slowly. When i got to my floor Ryan was waiting with a bottle of ibuprofen. “Life saver.” i murmured as i grabbed it. It was empty. “asshole.” i swore and he smiled, “you look like shit.” i gave him a look and sat in his chair. “no wonder you’re wanted by every woman in the tri-county area, West. You have the eloquence of a young redneck.” He started laughing and i joined him when Ziva walked in. She sat at her desk and put her head down. She started groaning and i threw the empty bottle at her. She looked up, her eyes red, looking exhausted, and gave me the finger. Just then Gibbs walked in and looked at us both then said, “you two do look like shit. get to work.” Ryan started to crack up and helped me out of his chair and pushed me towards my lab.
         When i got to my office i turned on all my stuff, booted up my computers, and called Dr. Reed’s office. “Hi, this is Liv Hunter, calling for Dr. Reed to discuss my treatment?” the secretary put me on hold and i studied my photo wall. It was a huge bulletin board covering one wall, full of pictures, quotes, newspaper clippings, stickers. Everything i loved, everywhere i’d been, people i’d met, people i was still connected with. There was everything but my cancer years. Now i couldn’t add any more to it until the cancer was gone again. I sighed and sat down. “Hello?”
“Dr. Reed, hi, i got your message.”
“Hi Liv, how are you?”
“Fantastic. Now, my treatment plan?”
“Right, i want to start you on....” and then he went on about the drugs he wanted to try, the cells he wanted to kill, the blood he wanted to recycle, the pieces of me he wanted to rip apart. It was all science, but it was all me. He wrapped it up and started talking about positive thinking. “I know i still have the books. i have to go, i’ll see you Monday.” as i hung up and turned around i stopped dead. Ryan was standing in the doorway looking at me. “Who’re you gonna see Monday?” he asked. He held out a hand and pulled me up in one smooth motion and it made me dizzy as my hungover head pounded. “Oprah. Now let me work.” He gave me a curious look and when i turned back around to face him he was gone, with a new bottle of ibuprofen on my desk.
         I avoided everyone for a few days, doing my work, avoiding eye contact, and preparing for my new schedule. I would have a week full on intense, then a week off with pain killers and sleep. For the next four weeks. Then they’d see if i needed a new plan, different drugs, or surgery to remove the tumors. I stocked up on Tum’s, thin soup and thick pillows, keeping out all my sweaters even though it was starting to finally get warm. I was always cold when i had cancer, that was what i remembered the most. The coldness.
         The night before i started chemo i was up all night. To calm my nerves i watched an old movie and tried not to think about what i was giving up for the next few months, and how even though chemo had saved my life, it continually changed it. At around 4 am i fell asleep, wondering how long it would take for me to puke.
         The next day when i woke up i went straight to Dr. Reed’s, but instead of going to his office waiting room, went up a floor to his chemo center. It was a big room, with beds, couches, and big chairs for people to take their treatments in. Magazines, books, tv’s were around each station and there were curtains to separate the beds for people who got the most queasy during treatment. And everywhere, the smell of antiseptic, puke, and the mixture of hope and hurt. It was painful remembering the last time i’d been there, and there was a new nurse. She looked at me, didn’t say anything, but put her hand out for my paperwork. Obviously there was a nurse, i mean it had been 15 years, but i still felt like a little kid going up and giving her my information and being ushered into a big chair. As she found a vein and got my meds together i looked around. There was an old guy in a chair, obviously proud of his ability to sit up during treatment, a girl in her teens alone, texting. I bit my lip as the nurse, still without saying a word, stuck the needle in and then the pinch subsided. Her name tag read Cathy, and it fit. Chatty Cathy. “i’ll be over there.” she finally said and I nodded and put my headphones in. Elvis Costello filled my head and i closed my eyes, pretending that i was far far away from here. It didn’t work.

Hours later it was over. First cycle in. First day down. My arm itched from the needle and my butt had fallen asleep in the chair. I hadn’t moved an inch the whole time, hadn’t said a word, and hadn’t unclenched my fists. As i stood in the elevator i got claustrophobic and ran out the front door. I doubled over by a tree and gasped for air, a lump rising in my throat as i gathered the wind and my wits about me. I got in my car and pulled out of the parking lot. First day down, a hellacious amount more to go.

         When i walked in, four hours late, i went straight to my lab without checking in with anyone else. I immediately got to work and went at a quick rate to make up for time. I had made sure everything was ready for when i got in and tests were set so i could still get things done while waiting for results. When i got my first result on a chemical compound found on a victim’s shirt, i called Gibbs. He came down with some tea for me. “Bless you my child.” i said grabbing it from him and burning my tongue as i sipped it quickly. He shook his head. “Where’ve you been?”
“Working what do you mean?” maybe i could play dumb. He stared at me. “I was doing research earlier and my computers system32 modem wasn’t working so i went to another lab to do it, then came back.” He eyed me suspiciously. He knew nothing about technology or that i’d just made up a computer problem. “Don’t make me say please, Liv, what do you have for me?” he asked, turning his attention to my big screen. I sighed quietly. First crisis avoided.

That night i ate some soup, knowing i’d throw it up the next day. I fell asleep quickly, tired from lying. I woke up with cold sweats and nightmares and spent the rest of the night reading. Then woke up, went to Dr. Reed’s, and did it all again. And again. But, on the fourth day of treatment i was searching for a magazine when the teenage girl came up to me, dragging her iv fluids with her. “What are you looking for?” she asked. She had big pretty brown eyes. “People or something full of trash.” She smiled, “Well i have issue 234, you know, the one where Sandra Bullock’s husband’s scandal is revealed. Or 58, an old one, when Brennifer are still together. God those were the days you know?” I nodded dumbly. “Were you even alive when they were dating?” i asked.
         “Hey. I’m 17.”
         “Well, ok then.”
         “Sitting in here every day, i needed something to do. And this is what they have, so this is what i’ll do. If i can’t be normal or really live, i’ll settle for this.” Her words rung in my ears as i went back to my spot. She sat next to me and chatted my ear off for an hour, until she got sick and Chatty Cathy ushered her away with one look. I was still thinking about her as i ran into Ryan who waiting for me as i came in the NCIS building. He was holding a bag of fast food. “So what this time? Another computer glitch even when everyone else’s is fine? A friend emergency? A flat tire? Aliens?” i shook my head, went through security, and didn’t say a word as we rode up to our floor. His greasy fries were making my mouth water but my stomach churn. I hadn’t been sleeping and i was dizzy and had the shakes, but the getting sick wasn’t bad as long as i stayed away from pungent foods. Like this.
         “Please don’t eat those right now.” i said as he shoveled the fries in. “Usually you’d be helping yourself to some, what’s going on Lee?” He called me Lee sometimes because of my name. Liv, as in live, as in lively, as in ly/lee. Because my name was so much harder to say than Lee, what with the same syllable and letter count and all. I put a hand to my forehead and massaged my temples, “i know but i’m like still hungover or something, i just feel nauseous. so please, no more.” i put my other hand over his on top of the bag. his hand was a lot bigger than mine and i doubt he even felt me try to stop him from eating, but he stopped. “thank you.” i said and led the way off the elevator. At his desk he put the bag down and it opened, releasing all the smells. I started shaking and tried to move away but he grabbed my wrist.
         “Wow your skin’s cold.” he said surprised but continued, “But, Lee, you’d tell me if something was wrong?” he looked concerned. i had to get out of there. Too late. I grabbed his trashcan and retched into it. When i was done he lifted me into his seat and squatted in front of me. He touched my forehead. “Fever.” cancer. “you’re shaking.” it’s cancer. “should you go to the doctor?” i never want to go to a fucking doctor again, Ry. “what’s wrong is i’m pregnant with your triplets and morning sickness is a bitch.” i replied and he tried to smile but it didn’t reach his eyes as i sat back shaking and he handed me a water bottle. Ziva walked in with Gibbs with her camera. New crime scene.
         “Don’t say anything to Gibbs. I’m fine.” i whispered to him and he looked upset by it, but nodded. I could trust him. I grabbed his disgusting trash can and walked away before they could talk to me and said to him, “i’m just gonna get you a new one.” he bit his lip and watched me walk away.

I threw the trashcan out in the dumpster then went to the bathroom, locking the door firmly behind me. I splashed cold water on my face and let my eyes meet their reflection. My hair was pulled back in a messy bun, making me look hollowed out. I had bags under my eyes and since i wasn’t much into make up they showed. I was pale and breathing heavily as i wiped my mouth, got a piece of gum from my pocket, and went back to work. It was only the first week. Couldn’t kill me yet.
         As i walked shakily back to my lab, Gibbs fell into step beside me. “Dinner tonight? I just got that filet you like.” Steak. So much to chew and process, so much effort. I started to shake my head but he touched my wrist and looked into my eyes. I started to shake on my feet and he steadied me. “Not an option. Something’s up. Follow me home after work.” He nodded at me and walked away. I didn’t want him finding this out, but i couldn’t do this alone for so long. Next week i was going to be exhausted and a mess, much more noticeably than this week, and he would know. He would figure it out, somehow. And he’d be mad. So mad. I ran a hand through my hair and kept walking when i saw no clumps came out. Woo-hoo.
         While i worked i would take breaks and started writing up directions for my temp. Would they know i was sick? Or think i was just super lazy? As i wrote down step processes for certain machines, Ryan came down. “Hey do you have anything about that Jane Doe...what are you doing?” i spun around, “Hey. Yeah, i do.” Grateful he wasn’t peppering me with questions i handed him a Dr Pepper, his favorite, and clicked onto my main computer. “I ran her DNA through every database i could think of, but no dice. But i did get a hit on the diamonds she was wearing. They were reported stolen from a Miss Sheila Webber, two weeks ago. Her husband is a private investigator.” He shook his head as i put up the pictures of the Webber’s. “He didn’t like that his wife’s diamonds were stolen.” I smiled and leaned back into him a little bit as he looked over my shoulder. “I think she didn’t like it more than he did.” He was always solid and there. Loved that. He asked, “you think she killed Jane after her husband found her?” i nodded and he walked in front of the screen as i put up more images of the victim. “Studies show more women kill with poison than any other weapon, and don’t like to look at their victim as they murder them.” The pictures showed a pillow over the vic’s face, and cause of death had been an overdose.
         “Good work. Making my life easier.” Suddenly someone grabbed my waist and i yelped. My heart was racing and i rubbed it over my shirt. “SHIT MOTHER FUCKER!” i yelled and she laughed but i didn’t. Ryan spun around me and came over to me. He put a hand on my shoulder and said to Ziva sharply, “she can’t take being snuck up on, you scared the crap out of her.” He looked at me, “you okay?” i nodded and patted Ziva’s hand.
         “It’s ok, you didn’t know.” i said through clenched teeth. This did not help my nerves. She looked like she felt bad as she said, “i’m so sorry, didn’t know.” i smiled slightly. “No worries, Ziva.” i got my bearings and pushed Ryan away. “Go solve a case or something.” i joked and he motioned for Ziva to follow him as he filled her in on my find. I sat back down slowly and tried to breathe.  Working was not helping my health. I was actually looking forward to my intern.  After hours more work of trying to find my Jane Doe and the Webber’s, who had magically disappeared, i called it a night as i hooked up my work phone to my cell for any news about bolo’s or results. Then i reluctantly followed Gibbs out to the parking lot and followed him back to his place. I parked in front of my old house, which was now occupied by a couple college kids Gibbs despised but i found entertaining. Gibbs’ house, brick, with a dark green door and shutters, was old and lived in. He didn’t have much furniture and lost all sense of decorating after the girls died, but he had pictures up that i’d gotten framed for him and his fireplace was usually up and kicking for half the year filling the place with warmth and the smell of Gibbs. I kicked off my Chuck’s and grabbed one of his flannel shirts as he handed me a beer and started chugging his own. I put the beer back and grabbed a gatorade. He raised his eyebrows at me but said nothing as he took the steaks out to the grill. I let him leave the door open as i sat at the kitchen table peeling corn husks and letting the wind clear my head. I knew i had to tell him. I knew he could help me. I just couldn’t say it out loud. I hated admitting it. I hated cancer, so, so much.
         We worked our way around the kitchen in silence until the food was ready. Then, when he put it all on the table and we sat down to eat, he looked at me. Just looked at me. And i started sobbing. My breath came out in loud gasps and i reached my hand out and he was there. He rubbed my back and tried to catch my eye. “Liv, honey, come on. What is it. You’re fragile and quiet, nothing like you. What happened?” i quieted down and knew i had to look him in the eye as i whispered, “Gibbs, God i’m so sorry, but, the, my, my cancer’s back.” His grey eyes clouded up. He didn’t say a word. I searched his face and he showed no signs of moving or breathing. He just looked at me. “Gibbs?”
         “How long?”
         “I started chemo on Monday. Tomorrow’s my last day, then i take next week off. It’s a 4 week trial before seeing if i need to get the tumors removed or-” the scraping of his chair cut me off as he walked out the door. I followed him slowly. Already i was so weak. “Hey, please-”
         “I should’ve known. You were so weak and cold, damnit Liv. It’s been so long, why didn’t you tell me?”
         “I didn’t want it to be true.” we both got quiet. “look, i talked to the director, my intern’s gonna do most of my work for me,”
         “You were planning on working?” he bellowed and i winced, leaning against the door for support.
         “Yes, i was. I’ll rest when i need to but i don’t want this ruining my life more. I’m gonna get it out and be done with it. I know i’ll need help, but i’m not giving in.”
         “All the more reason to take it easy.” he was such a force to be reckoned with. a big big force.
         “I will be taking it easy but i won’t sit around and do nothing and feel like shit.”
         “Oh, so working and feeling like shit is better?”
         “Hey, at least i’ll be close to you and Ryan.” He stopped pacing.
         “Have you told Ryan?” i hung my head. “And he never knew you had cancer when we met did you? He’s never asked me about it.” I shook my head.
         “I was too afraid.”
         “Well you better stop growing tumors and grow some balls and tell him.” He walked up to me and kissed the top of my head. I tried not to cry as i clung to his shirt. He sighed and his voice dropped to the tender tone he used only with me and said into my hair, “Cmon, steak’s too tough for your stomach, let me make you some soup.” And he walked me inside, closing the door because he already knew i was freezing. i was sick, after all.