knowthyexits | (no subject)

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sookie

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Sarah hadn't been sure about coming back to work, but now that she's finished a shift, she's more determined than ever to go about normalcy. If she can force her way back into it, maybe she can pretend to be like anyone else -- though she's quickly beginning to realize that everyone here is their own shade of abnormal. At the moment, she prays for something abnormal to deal with.

Her biggest concerns revolve around a man and medical treatments.

They're so normal that she wants to rip the island apart to look for a threat. Still, it's good to have something to occupy her mind. It keeps her thoughts away from John and her thoughts of what he's doing now. She's sure that with Derek and Cameron, he's well-capable of coping, but she misses him. She misses her son, she misses the one person in her life that she loves more than anything in the world.

Sarah takes a plate of food for herself and one for Sookie, grabbing drinks from Trixa before she heads to a table in the corner, grateful for a post-shift moment to compose her thoughts. "Here," she offers, extending the glass. "It's not alcoholic. I figured if I'm not drinking, I should make you miserable by giving you juice, too," she says, with a soft (yet tense) smile.

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It doesn't even take a second thought for Sookie's suspicions to hit her in the gut, to prepare herself for what's coming next. There's no way that it's about anything other than the cancer, Sookie thinks. If someone from her home arrived, Sarah wouldn't be so calm about informing her best friend. If someone left, Sarah might not even share at all. So this must be something that her attention needs to be drawn to, but that allows for the hesitation. Somehow, with Sarah, that description only ever seems to apply to when the young woman is speaking about herself.

Sarah always seems to come last, in her own mind.

"Go right on ahead," Sookie encourages, voice soft. "I can take it."

"Rory says there are some options when it comes to chemo," Sarah explains, crackling her knuckles as she speaks -- as if the small distraction is going to be enough for her. She hears the sound and all she can think about is the fact that she's wearing down what little strength she has left. "They're going to make me weak. And some might make my hair fall out and Sookie, I'm just not sure I can stand to look weak."

Sarah's stubborn. She's so stubborn and if she looks strong, she can pretend to be. She can fight. If she looks like she's sick, she loses one of the few advantages she has left.

"Are you askin' me for... permission to hold back on chemo because you're afraid it's gonna make you look weak?" Sookie asks incredulously, blinking down at Sarah's hands, instinctively reaching out in the hopes that she'll stop fidgeting. Her words are still soft in spite of the surprise, aware as Sookie is of the fact that Sarah's not the only one who has trouble accepting such an illness. It's not easy to be someone strong, and then suddenly find out that it's all temporary. That weakness can hit as randomly as anything else. "No, Sarah..."

She swallows thickly, brows furrowing to keep any tears from brimming in her eyes, even as she feels them burning, just seconds away. "Sarah, you've gotta choose what's best for you in the long run. If you need help watchin' out for yourself, if you need help protecting yourself, lord, there are so many people on the island who'd be willing to do that."

"I know that I'm being vain and stubborn," she admits, looking just to the side of Sookie because it's easier than facing her dead in the eye and having to admit that what she's doing is a coward's move. She's been so strong that now that she's fighting a battle she can't win, she doesn't know how to strategize. She doesn't know how to win the small fights. "I don't think I can get much thinner," she points out, voice growing thin. "And to wear a wig like that? Sookie, I can fight an army of machines," she insists, forcing strength back into her voice. "I don't know that I can fight this without John."

There's a selfish voice inside Sookie that immediately wants to call out. The one that knows that she simply cannot afford to lose anyone anymore, and not so soon, not a second sooner than it has to be. After losing her gran, after watching people die left and right, all she can do is shake her head, refusing to cry even when her brow furrows so tightly than she feels she can hardly even breathe. She reaches out for Sarah's hand, still shaking her head all the while, refusing to accept it. Refusing. But already, somehow, it feels like a losing battle between the two wills. Ultimately, there's nothing that Sookie can force Sarah to do.

Even if it's in Sarah's best interest.

"Sarah, you will be all the stronger if you actually decide to fight this, instead of just... giving up and throwing the towel in," Sookie insists, voice strained. "If you actually decide that you can kick this cancer in the ass, god, you're the one person I know who'd be able to do it, no questions asked. For John's sake, for the sake of anyone you care about back home or here, the only thing you can do is take the best care of yourself, and if that means you're gonna lose a little hair, that shouldn't matter. It'll be better in the long run, you'll see. The only possible cure's gonna be through chemo."

Sarah presses her lips together so firmly that it almost hurts her to do so. She wishes that she had Sookie's positive determination. She wishes she had half of that optimism to filter into her life. She clasps onto Sookie's hand tightly and squeezes as hard as she can, giving her a helplessly amused and terrified look, all rolled into one. "If I don't, you're going to find me, aren't you?" she notes ruefully. "Find me and make me regret not fighting."

"Oh, you bet I am," Sookie confirms with a soft nod, not sure if it's the right thing to do, to pressure Sarah into a choice that she's not necessarily the biggest fan of. From the limited amount she's read about cancer and the effect it has on people, most of hte success seems to be found in people who have convinced themselves that they can make it. In this kind of long-term disease, more than anything else, what Sookie knows is that outlook does matter. Getting Sarah to the treatment seems to be the first step, but she's not naive enough to think that it'll be enough. Sookie still needs to convince Sarah of it.

"If you really thought that shying from the treatment would be the best thing to do, you... wouldn't have come to me at all, y'know," Sookie pointed out softly.

Sarah arches her brow knowingly, giving Sookie a look that says she's been expecting this. It's true that a part of her doesn't want to do this, but she's always been like this. As much as she hates something, she knows she'll force herself there eventually, especially if she has the nudge of a friend. "You know, it's sad," she admits. "But between Cal and the cancer, I'm not sure which is harder to talk about. Don't tell him I said that."

She takes the statement as a good sign. Sookie never wants for Sarah to feel forced out of a choice, but when it comes to this, there's no ideal. There's no way to make everything right, no way to make everyting perfect again; there's only compromise, and being able to prioritize everything in the right way. Above Sarah's comfort comes her well-being. Because once Sarah's well and healthy again, everything else... it can be worked towards. Sookie finds herself believing that. Finds herself needing to.

So she smiles, blinking and offering a small nod.

"Cal's... a trial in the best of times, I know. I've been there, and ended up losin' patience before it could really even go anywhere," she agrees with a soft sigh and a conceding nod. "But you should really go with what you want for this one, Sarah. That's the thing about love. I don't think logic really applies, I think the rules are best thrown aside completely."

"Right now," Sarah says tiredly, poking her fork around her plate of food and wishing she had more of an appetite. It's hard when all she can think about is what's to come and how it's going to take her body and make it weak. "I don't know, Sookie, right now, I think that all I want is to wake up and not feel as weak as I do. I want to be able to wake up and pretend that the day isn't going to be an uphill battle."

"Every day is an uphill battle, Sarah," she replies quietly, not sure if her next words will help or hurt, though she believes in them with every fiber of her being. Believes in them more now, after everything that's happened, both on the island and off. Believes in it every time she wakes with that same fatigue still resting somewhere in her chest. Maybe it's just been lately, a part of her wants to think, maybe it's just been lately that things seem to have hit her one after the other. But another knows that it's only the tip of the iceberg, that the weight won't start letting up anytime soon.

And she hates knowing that. More than anything else, she hates having her optimism taken away.

"But... you know, that also means that this is just a hurdle like any other. It's hard, I know, and it isn't something you can directly fight, but you can get over it just like you can any other threat. You've just gotta stay strong. Gettin' better in mind and body is always about staying strong, digging your heels in when you feel like everything's falling apart."

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