Mila stood in the alleyway with her hand around her necklace, tears streaming down silently. Stella's appointment did not go well.

"We can do a lung transplant, can't we?" Mila asked after hearing Mila's lungs were doing so poorly, they could collapse any moment.

"No," the doctor said. "I'm sorry, but given Stella's situation... A lung transplant not only wouldn't be enough but the process itself is too much for her body right now."

"So then we do what?" Terrence asked.

"We keep her comfortable," the doctor said, eyes full of sympathy as she looked between us. "Stella's illness is terminal, we've discussed this."

"We also discussed the possibility that she could get better enough and recover. What about the new treatment she started?" Mila asked. "She just started that, shouldn't we give it a chance before we say it's hopeless?"

"So far, Stella has not responded to the treatments," the doctor said. "Her numbers are going, the tumors are getting bigger. Nothing has improved."

"Then she needs a different treatment," Mila said.

"We've cycled through them," Terry said quietly, sliding his hand over to Mila's. She took it only because she didn't want to cry right there in front of the doctor.

"Well then go back to one that was working better," Mila argued. "There's nothing else? Nothing at all that can help us?"

"The only other thing I can offer you might not even be a possibility," the doctor said. "They're doing some things at the children's cancer research center, but... Whether or not I can get Mila on that is unclear. They may decide her condition is too poor for both the travel to another state and undergo this new treatment."

"But we should try it, right?" Mila asked, looking over at Terry. "We should try everything we can."

"If you would like me to pursue and attempt to get Stella on those treatments, I will do my best. She would have to travel to the facility though."

"And you don't recommend that," Terry commented.

"Depends on what you are willing and able to do," the doctor shrugged. "I do not recommend a plane ride, I don't think that's safe for her right now. If you are able to drive and break it up over a couple nights so she's not in the car more than about four hours at a time and gets a lot of rest in between, then I think it would be okay. Do you want to pursue this?"

"Do you recommend it?" Terry asked.

"I don't want to get your hopes up and say that it will work," the doctor sighed, giving them both a sympathetic look. "My honest opinion is that this is not going to improve and Stella is better off spending as much time as she can with her family and staying comfortable."

"You mean we wait for her to die," Mila said.

"Mila," Terry sighed, squeezing her hand.

"No, that's what's being said right now, isn't it?"

"Her condition is terminal, Mila," the doctor said. "I'm so sorry, but it is. Even with these treatments, they may prolong her life but they would not cure her."

"Okay, it sounds like you're playing God to me but whatever," Mila said, standing and grabbing her purse.

"That's not what she meant," Terry sighed.

"Mila that's not my intention, I just need to be honest with you," the doctor said.

"Fine, whatever, it's not my decision, I'm not her guardian," Mila said, making her way to the door.

"Mila, where are you going?" Terry asked. "Don't be that way, we always decide this together. Do you want to try this treatment? If you do then we'll do it. I'll get the time off work, we'll figure out a way to pull the money together."

"You know how I feel, I don't know why you're even asking," Mila said, opening the door. "Of course I think we should try it. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to go spend time with her while I can."

Thinking back on the conversation, Mila felt even worse because she knew they were both trying to make hard decisions no one should have to make. She just didn't want to believe this was it. The treatments had to help, they just did. She was thankful Terry took her side and asked the doctor to plead Stella's case to the research center.

But now that meant they needed money. Again. The treatments were covered at the children's hospital since it was a charity, thank goodness, but that didn't cover the other things. Like the fact Stella needed to travel safely, in a nice car, and they didn't trust Terry's car to make the drive. That meant renting a car, it meant making sure they were stocked on all Stella's medications, stocked on everything she needed for the trip there and back and the stay at the hospital. It also meant hotel costs, food costs, gas costs and a new coat for Stella because it was much colder in the state they had to go to, so cold they already had snow and Stella's lungs couldn't handle cold air like that unless she was really bundled.

Terry and Mila went back to his house after the appointment, set Stella in front of her favorite TV show and went into the office to discuss what the costs would add up to. Renting the car, the drive there, the one month stay, the drive back. The numbers they came up with, even trying to be modest, had way too many zeros on the end to be comfortable. Terry said he would attempt to take out another loan but they both knew that wasn't going to work. He decided to ask again for help from friends and family, they would try a lot of things but the truth was, everyone else was bled dry too.

Their family was just the three of them- Mila wasn't even going to consider their father being counted when he'd only helped out with money once in the years they spent taking care of Stella- and Mila didn't have much as far as friends. She could ask at the law firm but that was her best bet and she doubted they'd get enough.

"I can sell some stuff," Terry said, eyeing the watch on display over in the corner.

"Don't you dare," Mila said, shaking her head.

"It would give us a couple thousand," he muttered.

"Yeah, a couple thousand, not enough and you can't replace that," Mila argued. It was a watch given as a gift when Terry translated a thousand-page document no one else was willing to tackle. They had a whole celebration for it and the watch was a gift at the end of the night, engraved with his name.

"I might be able to get three grand out of it," he shrugged.

"Don't," Mila said firmly. "At least give me a chance to figure something else out before you do that."

"Mila, I don't want you doing shit for Dallas anymore," Terry sighed. "It's dangerous."

"Terry, I'm going to do it whether you like it or not and I'm especially going to if it means you don't sell that watch."

Terry sighed and dropped his head in his hands. "We'll figure it out. A little bit here and there adds up."

"Yeah," Mila agreed, her hands landing on her mother's necklace like they always did when she was upset and stressed, an anchor that helped her stay calm and sane and not hysterical even though she felt like falling apart.

It was that necklace, four days later, after the doctor confirmed they were good to go to the children's cancer hospital, she clung to. The moment her mother gave it to her replayed in her mind as she held her greatest treasure for the last time, outside the pawn shop downtown. More tears came out and she shook her head, forcing herself to take several deep breaths before she reluctantly let her fingers slip away from the pendant and move up to the clasp at the back of her neck. "Sorry mama," she whispered, unclasping the necklace.

She walked out of the pawn shop with a lot of money, but a lot more emptiness as her hand automatically went to her chest for that anchor to help her hold it together and it wasn't there anymore. Needing her hands to find somewhere to go, she went to her phone and texted Terry to tell him she had it covered, they could go at the end of the month and he didn't need to worry about the cost, she would make the reservations for everything and get Stella's new coat the next day. He asked her why, what she did for it, and she couldn't bring herself to answer.

The bottle of whiskey sitting on her counter from when Dallas stopped by the other night called to her in a moment she was too depressed to worry about being hungover at work the next day. She opened the bottle and carried it with her to her couch where she curled up on it and attempted to drown the sorrow with the bottle.

It was a couple hours later that Marcus arrived and found her sitting on the counter, swinging her legs back and forth, half the bottle gone and popcorn popping in the microwave.

"There's a new serial killer on the loose," Marcus informed Mila.

Mila drank from the bottle, wiped her mouth off with her sleeve and narrowed her eyes at Marcus, letting the bottle hang from her fingertips between her swinging legs as she glared at him. "Good, maybe he'll come kill me. Give me his number."

"I meant," Marcus said, narrowing his eyes at her, "that you could help save a lot of lives by giving me his name."

"I'd rather have his number," Mila said, bringing the bottle to her lips and downing more of the liquid in an attempt to numb the gaping holy she felt in her chest.

Marcus sighed, crossing his arms and frowning. Something about her looked different and he couldn't quite place why. He looked her over again and again and while her eyes were puffy and slightly red, everything else seemed normal. Mila sniffed and her hand went to her chest, pain crossing her face before it slid back down to her lap and she swallowed without taking a drink.

"Where's your necklace?" Marcus asked, finally realizing why she looked different. That damn thing was on her even when she was sleeping. She never took it off except for a shower. It was her most treasured possession.

Mila's eyes filled with tears and she sent him a hateful glare. "Gone, because someone can't fucking do their job and fucking kill me already."

"What..." Marcus trailed off, furrowing his brows. "I do not see how those two things are related at all."

"You know what?" Mila said, setting the bottle down and sliding off the counter, almost losing her balance but regaining it before stomping over to Marcus and shoving her hands against his chest. "This is all your fault. Why can't you just kill me and get it over with, huh?" She asked, shoving him again. "Why? Why does it fucking matter? You have to have a friend or something if you won't do it but do something, dammit!"

"Mila," Marcus frowned. While she seemed to be putting every effort into shoving against him, he was a demon and barely felt most of it. The anger faded and tears replaced it as she kept asking him why, slamming her hands against his chest until she was crying too hard to continue.

She slunk down to the floor and covered her face with her hands as she cried while Marcus stood there, unsure what to do. Eventually he sunk down to the floor as well and tentatively set a hand on her shoulder that she quickly smacked away. "Fuck off, unless you're here to kill me just fuck off for one night and leave me to break in peace."

"Mila, where's your necklace?" He asked.

"At the pawn store," Mila cried, gesturing vaguely to a bag laying haphazardly on the floor, cash sticking out of it.

"That was your mother's necklace," Marcus frowned.

"Yeah I fucking know, thanks," Mila snapped, wiping at her eyes and sniffling.

"Why did you sell it?"

"Because you won't fucking kill me and so I needed another way to get money so I can drive Stella to Chicago and get her treatment for her," she said, getting up off the floor and stumbling over to the counter where she left the bottle.

"Another way?" Marcus repeated, standing. That statement was the first hint he had to why she really wanted to die and how it related to Stella. He just couldn't figure out Mila dying meant money. "How does me killing you get Stella money?"

Mila stayed silent, leaned over the counter, wondering when she would finally run out of tears. She stared straight ahead for a while and didn't feel like keeping it in. Sadly enough, Marcus was the closest thing she could even remotely consider a friend outside workplace friends. "Life insurance," Mila whispered, bringing the bottle back to her lips and tipping it back.

"Life insurance," Marcus repeated in a sigh, watching as Mila hung her head down and sniffled more, wiping at her eyes and nose. He wondered if she was even aware she was swaying back and forth. It all made sense to him now. She wanted to take care of Stella and she was desperate to do it no matter what, even if it meant dying and never seeing her again.

"I can't handle more death," Mila cried, resting her head against the counter. "I can't do it. I can't."

Sighing, Marcus walked over and took the bottle from hands that were about to drop it. He was thankful to Kat for at least vaguely knowing what hugs were supposed to feel like. He turned Mila around and pulled her to his chest, wrapping his arms around her. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry enough to kill me and help my sister?" She asked in a quiet whisper.

Marcus didn't respond, just rested his chin on her head and waited while she cried until she was barely holding herself up. He carried her to the bedroom and could no longer take the messy bed that didn't even have a sheet on it all the way. He set her down on the side the sheet was still attached and fixed the other, then pulled her to the middle and dropped blankets on her. When he moved back, she reached out and caught his hand, her eyes filling up with tears again.

"I don't wanna be alone," she murmured through slurred words. "I'm always alone."

Marcus stared down at her and against better judgment, kicked off his shoes and climbed under the blankets with her. Their hands still together, Mila whispered her last slurred words before falling asleep. "Thank you for not leaving me alone."