Auto

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Auto hung his head, his hand clutching Frankie's as their son screamed in pain.

“I need to stop them. They're hurting him."

Frankie clenched her eyes tighter. She held his hand even tighter.

“I-It's just the needles. He doesn't like them.”

Auto clenched his jaw. His fist balled up. He felt helpless. His poor baby. Crying his little heart out.

“Of course he doesn't like them," He growled. “Our son is four months old.”

“He has to do the treatment.”

“He doesn't have to do anything but be a baby.”

Frankie wished he wouldn't fight her over this. It's not like it was easy for her. Letting doctors poke and prod her son, hearing him wail—it crushed her soul.

Auto wasn't helping.

“He's a baby with stomach cancer. He has to get treatment, or he won't live to be any more than a baby.”

But Auto couldn't accept that.

“How do you know?! What if the doctors are wrong? Wouldn't be the first time.”

“More than likely, they're right, Jason.”

Auto snorted. “More than likely? They're pumping our baby full of chemicals and you're betting on more than likely?”

Frankie had had it.

“Would you stop attacking me?! We're supposed to be a team!”

“No, we're supposed to be taking care of our son.”

Frankie couldn't hold back the hot tears that streamed down her face. “I'm doing the best I can!”

She got up.

“One of us has to make decisons. Both of his parents can't live in a fairytale world where cancer doesn't exist.”

Turning her back to him, she shot one arrow. “I'll leave that one to you, while I try to figure out how to keep our son alive.”

Auto watched her leave, her footsteps, and Tommy's cries echoing through the narrow hall.

***

“Damnit!” Auto growled, slamming his fists into the bathroom wall.

Frankie was right and he knew it. It wasn't her fault that Tommy was sick. It wasn't like it was easy for her.

At least she could deal with it.

He...well he would rather pretend everything was fine.

“Family of Tommy Sullivan?”

He stood hastily. “How is he? Can we see him?”

He glanced around. She really left. She probably just went to check on J.R. but...

“Right this way sir. Sir?”

Auto snapped out of his thoughts.

“Yes. Show me the way.”

So the nurse led him down the winding halls until she stopped in front of the hospital room.

“Here we are. You can go in. He's sleeping.”

Auto rushed in. His heart broke at the sight. There was his son, looking so frail, so helpless.

“Daddy's here son. Daddy's here.”

Washing his hands, he put his hands into the incubator gloves. He sat all night with his son, a little hand clutching his finger.

Auto watched him, counting his breaths.

“The doctor thinks with a few more treatments he'll be good to take home.”

Auto looked up. Frankie was look at her sweet boy.

“He said it was because we caught it so early. The treatments will be aggressive, but he'll be in remission longer, maybe the rest of his life.”

Auto smiled. “Thank you. I haven't been much help these past couple of weeks, and for that, I'm sorry.”

Frankie out her hands in the incubator gloves, rubbing Tommy's head. Her other hand grabbed his.

“It's okay, Jason. Everything will be fine. Just—”

“He's not breathing.”

Auto felt fear. Genuine fear.

Frankie was a little confused. “What?”

“He's not breathing. Somebody help! He's not breathing!"

Frankie was frozen. Auto slammed his fist on the call button. Tommy's face began going blue.

He took her hand. She took the burden the first time around. It was his turn.

Squeezing her hand, he looked down at the baby as he was rushed to NICU.

But he didn't dare finish the sentence.

Everything will be just...