Saturday 10th January, Chelsea and Westminster Hospital

Monica really wanted a drink.

It had been a few weeks since she last had one. And even if it almost killed her the last time, even if the mere thought of the taste and smell of alcohol made her stomach churn with repulsion, even if the doctors back in Dublin strongly advised against it for a while (or forever), a drink would probably be the cure to many ailments such as her constant angst, her chronic tiredness, her mental and physical pain...

Now half-asleep and squinting in the low-lying winter sun, she sat slumped in the chair beside Johnny's bed after another restless night, waiting to nod off.

There was a sofa against the wall across the room that would've been a lot more comfortable, but the truth was Monica didn't want to let of her son's hand as he lay on what must've been Day 4 of being in a coma, even it felt much longer.

Perhaps it was because each time the doctors checked, they hadn't noticed any significant changes to Johnny's stabilised condition, and that's what made the days drag on...

Then, a child's voice took Monica out of her fatigued daze:

"Mummy!"

Roshni Bulsara ran into the hospital room with a foil helium balloon in the shape of Thomas the Tank Engine in one hand and her Auntie Paula in tow, towards her elated mother's open arms.

"Oh, my little girl! My joy..." Monica cooed, lifting her daughter off of her feet.

"This feels much better than alcohol" she thought, pressing her face into Roshni's soft black curls as she held her close.

Her friend Paula McIntyre gently smiled in the background, taking the Thomas the Tank Engine balloon from the girl and tying it to the foot rail of Johnny's hospital bed during the mother and daughter's reunion.

"I missed you, mum" Roshni spoke into her mother's ear.

"I missed you too, my love," Monica kissed the side of her daughter's head, pulling away slightly, "How's the arm?"

"Not so sore anymore, but I still can't write with it or hold a knife and fork properly" Roshni shrugged, holding up her cast that had been ever so slightly tattooed by Paula so far.

"It's okay, it'll be time yet before you get used to it" Her Auntie Paula then said, sitting down on the sofa by the wall.

Monica's arms grew tired the longer they bore the weight of her nearly-a-decade-old daughter. As she lowered Roshni back onto the ground, she noticed that she was wearing an unfamiliar pastel lemon yellow knitted garment embellished with a view pearls and white beads that complimented her raven hair, olive skin and blue eyes rather well.

"Is that a new cardigan?"

Roshni nodded, "Auntie Paula took me to Camden market on the way back from Margate yesterday!"

Paula followed with a wink, "It's from the 1950s."

"Don't tell your father" is what Monica would've normally said, despite knowing that Freddie used to run a vintage stall with his bandmate Roger.

Instead, she gave her friend a side glance, "It's lovely, but I hope Auntie Paula isn't spoiling you too much!"

Paula passed Roshni a paper gift bag made of medium-sized silver cardboard, "Go on then, give it to your mum."

Roshni then handed the bag to Monica, "This is for you!"

Monica was pleasantly surprised, "For me? Thank you..."

She sat on the sofa by her friend, opening the bag gently. Inside there was a plush toy with a light brown pointed velvet snout and ivory shaggy fur staring back up at her with its cartoony plastic eyes.

"What on earth is it?" Monica thought aloud as she lifted it out, for it resembled a rodent crossed with a sheep.

"It's a Womble! You know, from the Wombles of Wimbledon off of TV?" Roshni answered.

"Oh... I remember now. Did you go to Wimbeldon to find it?" Monica joked.

"No! I won it in a claw machine at one of the arcades in Margate. Paula showed me how to do it!" Roshni gushed.

"Look what's it's holding, Mo" Paula instructed.

Indeed, there was a small plastic cassette tape propped in the Womble's sewn-together arms. Monica lifted it out to see a saturated image of her favourite songster from her childhood holding a guitar on the front, mouth agape mid-song.

"Oh, it's Cliff Richard!"

"Auntie Paula said you were a fan of him when you were my age."

"Well, why don't you take Mr Womble over to your brother and say hello whilst Paula and I have a chat?" Monica suggested, holding the soft toy out to her daughter.

"Can Johnny actually hear me talk to him if he's sleeping deeply?" Roshni questioned curiously.

Her mother explained, "Well, he technically isn't sleeping. He can probably hear everything going on around him... but whether he's awake or dreaming I'm sure he'd still like to listen to you."

Without hesitation, Roshni took the cheap claw machine toy from her and ran to the chair by her brother's hospital bed, "Hello, Johnny. It's me..."

"Thanks for tape... and the balloon. It jazzes the room up a little." Monica told her friend, but refrained from telling her that Johnny was probably too old to like animated trains that all had the same voice as Ringo Starr.

"No bother. That Womble was for you too, actually. We got Johnny his own present..." Paula added half-apologetically, holding another shiny gift bag.

"Oh.. just put it with the others up there." Monica pointed to window sill that was crowded with several Get Well Soon cards and wrapped presents that Johnny had acquired in the last day since the news broke out further across his parent's circles.

"If you say so" Paula obliged, putting her gift bag next to the others.

The rainbow row of colourful presents and cards complimented the vase of Johnny's grandparents' morbidly bland and delicate white roses and lilies rather nicely, as well as the entire hospital room itself.

"You see that card with the Winnie the Pooh on it?" Monica asked Paula, "Guess who it's from..."

Her friend Paula picked up said card, and looked inside.

"It's signed MJ. Is it MJ as in Michael Jackson?!" She asked in amazement.

"The one and only," Monica confirmed, "They met him once in LA when they were very small, but they don't remember him."

"Eugh! Look at the one with the clown on it, Mo! Whoever sent it must be demented!" Paula remarked in disdain, putting the Pooh card back.

"That one's from Elton John, actually..."

"Oh." Paula's cheeks reddened.

"I know. If you ask me, his taste in greeting cards is the same as his taste in stage costumes."

Both women gently laughed.

"You never told me that you were friends with MJ and Elton, Mo."

"That's because they aren't my friends, they're friends of his father." Monica implied.

Paula sat back down beside her, "So you finally told Freddie about the accident?"

Monica shook her head, "Freddie found out on his own."

Paula's natural response was to ask how, but instead she asked, "Did he apologise to you?"

"No. But he did get Johnny a gift."

"It's the big one at the end of the sill with the extravagant bow thing on top of it, isn't it?"

"Nope." Monica pointed to the almost empty blood transfusion sachet hanging from the IV pole by Johnny's hospital bed.

Paula followed where her finger was pointing, and cluelessly asked, "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"The blood bag."

Ms McIntyre put two and two together, "Wait, are you saying that Freddie was the donor you met yesterday?!"

Monica silently nodded.

Paula stuttered, "What?! Wh-when did he-"

"Don't ask me how he found out Johnny was injured, but he did."

"Well, did you thank him?"

Monica stared ahead, "What do you think?"

Paula sensed hostility from Monica's answers, which was rare from a her friend so soft-spoken and kind. Terrifying, even.

"Sorry," she treaded carefully, "I just thought that you still would've had the courtesy to do that."

"Well it's not like he didn't slap me across the face the other day, Paula!"

But Paula felt somewhat sympathetic towards Freddie following their conversation in which he had opened up to her on Christmas Eve.

"It's not my place to tell you this, but I still think that thanking him was the least you could do. He probably did it benevolently, you know? To try and save Johnny."

Monica's tone shifted, "And the least you could've done was told me that Freddie took a HIV test behind my back!"

"Oh. The cat's finally out of the bag then."

"Yes! Why didn't either of you tell me?!"

"Mo, it just wasn't my place," Paula put her hands up, "And anyway, even when I did want to tell you things just kept getting in the way!"

"Like what?" Monica challenged.

Paula took a deep breath to steady herself.

She confessed, "Look, I was going to tell you the other night but then Johnny went into shock right in the middle of it."

Before Monica could react, Roshni appeared by her side, "Mum?"

She forced a closed smile for her daughter, "What is it?"

"Are you and Auntie Paula fighting?"

Paula cringed uncomfortably and squirmed in her seat.

Monica paused for a few seconds, and took her daughter's hands.

"No, sweetheart. Auntie Paula just made a little mistake that made me upset, that's all."

Roshni pressed on, "What kind of mistake?"

"Paula kept a little secret from me, and you know friends don't keep secrets from one another," Monica gently explained, then turned to look at her friend with a sincere expression, "but I know that she wasn't trying to hurt me and was trying to do the right thing at the time, so I forgive her."

Since it was about a 'grown up secret' Roshni saw no use in pressing on any further, and skipped back to sit by her brother's bedside.

"Are we actually good?" Paula carefully asked.

"Of course we are."

The two women leaned towards each other for a hug.

Several seconds went by, and Monica apologised, "I'm sorry for being a bitch to you. You're the only friend I've got."

"You're not a bitch, Mo."

"Yes I am, even he called me one... I guess it's because I'm still confused about what happened yesterday."

"What, when you met him?"

"I mean, at first we argued with one another. And then there were tears, and emotions..."

Paula broached, "Did Freddie tell you whether or not he got his test results?"

Monica confirmed, "He's negative. Doesn't make things any easier, though."

"Oh." Her friend noised.

Monica felt too embarrassed to tell Paula more of what she said to Freddie.

"If you don't love me anymore, I honestly don't know what to live for..." her own words replayed in her head, and even if it was her honest feelings at the time it still made her feel pathetic.

Out of the blue, Monica continued:

"There was also this moment where we were just hugging each other, crying. And I really did think he was going to kiss me, you know? But instead he just told me just to live for our children, whatever that means..."

Paula answered, "That means Freddie loves them both."

Monica looked at Roshni sitting by her comatose twin brother's beside. The girl appeared to be happy enough and engrossed in her own world, telling Johnny vivid stories and using the Womble toy as a character to reenact them even if the boy wasn't awake to see them.

Maybe her daughter was fine without her father's love in the meantime, or perhaps Paula was just keeping her so preoccupied with fun things to do every day that she was too distracted to notice her home life was falling apart.

But Monica knew eventually that herself and her daughter were going to have to face the reality of the mess that they were in.

She rested her head against her elbow propped up on the arm rest, "After how ugly things turned, and the words that were said, why would he want me to live?"

"Why wouldn't he? He still loves you."

Paula said that with such certainty.

Monica lifted her head back up and looked over, "How do you know?"

There was a beat.

"Because he wants you to take care of yourself, obviously."

"You're just saying that because you're my friend and you want me to take care of myself."

"Mo, I'm serious!"

Monica sighed, and sat back a little, "It's not the same type of love we started out with, is it though?"

Paula contemplated for a moment, "Maybe not. But it's better than no love at all, don't you think?"

"I suppose so." Monica thought with a sigh, looking at the cassette tape still in her hand.

"I bet you're thinking why can't all men can't be like Cliff Richard, eh?" Paula asked with a smirk.

"Nah," Monica shrugged, setting the cassette onto the flat sofa armrest, "just more about the time when I spilled my drink over Cliff Richard and scared him away with my drunkenness."

Paula giggled, "Well, they do say that you should never meet your idols."

"Freddie Mercury especially." She spoke through a yawn.

"Come on, cut Freddie some slack!" Paula wanted to say, but refrained.

Instead she remarked, "You sound knackered."

"I haven't been getting enough sleep, I left my Nytol at Garden Lodge." Monica laid her head back on the sofa rest.

"Do you want us to sit with Johnny while you take a nap?"

"Would you? I only need 20 minutes!"

Paula stood back up, "You can have an hour if you like."

"You angel!" Monica swung her legs up and curled into a reclining foetal position.

Paula made her way to Johnny's bed, "Shift over, Roshni. Your mum's having a rest."

Meanwhile Monica took her musty-smelling pea green coat from the floor beside her, and rolled it into a makeshift pillow.

She lay back down slowly on her side to rest her head, careful not to hurt her braced neck, and through sleepy eyes she watched her daughter sit down onto Paula's lap and adjust herself.

"Auntie Paula," She heard Roshni question, "what's that thing stuck on Johnny's hand?"

"Shhhh, your mum needs peace and quiet..." Paula hushed her, and softly replied, "it's a special type of tap for putting medicine into his body."

"Aren't you supposed to eat medicine?" The girl asked a little more quietly.

"Ideally, yes. But sometimes the doctors have to put it into your blood veins when you can't swallow."

By now Monica's heavy eyes had closed, making the rest of her senses more acute as she kept her ears open...

"I don't think Johnny and I have ever spent this much time apart since we were born." Roshni said out of nowhere.

"Is that so?" Said Paula.

"The longest I've been apart from him was ten minutes, and that was when he was being born! It feels weird."

"Wrong," Monica wanted to say, "You spent the night apart when he broke his leg as a toddler."

"I know it must feel strange Roshni, but when something bad happens your life can get knocked off balance."

"Oh, like an earthquake?"

"Aye, you could say that."

A few minutes of silence followed, except for the sounds of the life support machine and bleeps from the monitors echoing through the room. Regardless, it was enough time for Monica to empty her head of any thoughts left and relax... until Roshni suddenly asked Paula another question:

"When will Johnny wake up?"

Monica pretended to be asleep as she continued to eavesdrop and wait for Paula to reply.

"...I honestly can't tell you the answer to any of those things, pet."

"Does mum know the answer?"

"No. Nobody knows for certain."

What Roshni asked next kept Monica hooked to their conversation.

"Does that mean Johnny is dying?!"

"Shh! Keep your voice down, mum is sleeping!"

"But is he?"

"Roshni, if your brother is dying then you would've been told by now."

"Please just tell me what' going on!" The girl pleaded worriedly.

Paula audibly sighed, "Johnny is in what doctors call vegetative stage, like a plant. He's very much alive, but he's not doing much."

"So Johnny's not dying... but he's not getting better either?"

"Pretty much."

"I don't like that, it's scary. It's all so scary." Roshni murmured.

"In what way?"

"All this change, you know? Not knowing if Johnny is going to be okay or not, or when I'm going to go home again and see Luke and Leia, or go back to Headfort to see Oshiro and my favourite teachers again. Principle Toole told Johnny and me that change is like a dark tunnel, and the best way to get out is to look for the light... but I can't see any light!"

Paula cheerily tried to change the subject, "Well then how about we stop looking for lights at the end of tunnels and decide where we're going to go tomorrow?"

"Can I tell you a secret first?"

Monica could hear her best friend breathe sharply through her nose, "Okay then."

The girl sadly answered, "I miss dad."

"Oh, Roshni," Paula uttered sympathetically, "Is this because we saw him in that taxi yesterday?"

"Taxi? What taxi?" Monica thought in alarm.

Roshni admitted, ashamed, "I've been missing him longer than that. Is it bad?"

"Of course it isn't bad! It's perfectly natural to miss someone."

"Even after what he did to mum?"

There was a pause as Paula thought of the right way to phrase her answer.

"Some mums and dads are mean to each other, and are better people when they're not together."

"But I don't want mum and dad to be mean to each other!" Roshni panicked, "I want things to be the way they were and for them to love each other again, and love us!"

"Are you scared that your parents won't love you and Johnny anymore if they don't love each other?"

"Maybe... Uncle Brian left Aunt Chrissie because he fell in love with a woman called Anita." Roshni recalled sadly.

"Listen, pet. A parent's love is a different kind of love to the love that adults have for each other. So even if mum and dad do fall out of love, they won't love you and Johnny any less."

"How do you know? You don't have any children except Max the dog."

"You're right there," Paula admitted, then explained, "But when I was training to be an art therapist I had to read a lot of books on different types of love, and different types of families as well so that I could understand my future clients a lot better."

"Is that how you found out that you like women more than men too?" Roshni innocently asked.

"That was a little more complicated," Paula giggled gently, and turned serious, "But I know for sure that a mother and father's love is a love like no other. And if your mum and dad truly love you and Johnny, then when the time is right they'll work together to raise you both and have you taken care of."

"Like when they sent us to boarding school in Ireland so that we wouldn't be home alone?"

"Just like that."

"...Paula?"

"Mmm?"

"I think I'd like to talk about tomorrow's plans now."

"Aye. Let's."

And for the next twenty minutes or so they did just that, leaving Monica laying in stillness to reflect on their thought-provoking conversation as she pretended to nap.

But her body and mind were both already weary enough, and she could feel both their voices fading as she drifted off into a much needed sleep...

Somewhere in Sussex...

"Felix, reviens maintenant! Ca pas pour toi, c'est pour ta petite soeur!"

Dominique Beyrand was running through the house chasing after her son, Felix Luther Taylor, who had a bottle of freshly pumped milk in his hands that was meant to be for his 7 month old infant sister Rory, whom was helplessly wailing her head off from her high chair in the kitchen. 

Roger Taylor stood in the hall on the phone amidst the commotion in nothing except his Los Angeles suntan and striped boxer shorts, shaking his head to himself and ignoring the ruckus as best he could.

"What the hell is going on over there, Rog?!" Brian May said on the other end of the phone.

Followed by John "Deaky" Deacon, "He's a drummer, of course his house is loud."

"It's only my family!" Roger clasped his free ear so that he could properly listen and engage in his three-way call with his other two bandmates of Queen, "Felix wants Dom's undivided attention..."

"Anyway," Brian continued, "Did you all get the letter and read it?"

"Yep." he heard Deaky quip.

"Mmhm, I have it here," Roger stared at the freshly printed said letter in his hand that was handwritten and faxed to him by none other than Peter "Phoebe" Freestone on behalf of his colleague and band mate, Freddie Mercury, explaining the lead singer of Queen's absence.

"Good," Brian continued into their three-way call, "I'm glad to hear our Fred is alive and well."

"Well, not really. His son's in a damn coma! If only we'd known sooner..."

"Didn't I tell you both it'd be a good idea to reach out to him?" John reminded them both.

Brian begrudgingly agreed, "I stand corrected."

Roger heard Felix's muffled squeals coming from elsewhere in the house. In the corner of his eye she saw a frazzled Dom carrying their baby daughter in the crook of her arm and a bottle of milk in her other hand.

"Just a sec, lads," Roger told his bandmates, and put the receiver into the crook of his neck, "What's up, babe?"

"Roger, please feed our daughter," Dominique practically begged, handing him the bottle, "Felix is driving me insane!"

"Read this." The drummer handed his partner Phoebe's letter she placed Rory in his free arm.

Dominique started to skim through it, eyes widening, "Johnny... in hospital?!"

Roger forebodingly nodded, then made a kissy noise at their daughter as he aimed the teat of the bottle at her small lips, her tiny fingers curling around it to hold it in place.

"Oh, dear..." Dom trailed off, heading back into the other room before she loudly called for their son in her native French again, "Felix! J'ai une bonne idée... tu veux faire une carte?".

Thinking she was berating the boy by the tone and volume of her voice, Roger called after her, "Just give him a light spank!"

"Give who a spank?" Deaky asked on the other end of the phone.

"Nothing." Roger absentmindedly replied, affectionately pressing his lips onto baby Rory's forehead.

"Now what do we do?" Brian asked.

"Send him our regards, of course!"

"I meant rhetorically. If he's on leave of absence, what's left for us to do as a band?"

"Maybe it's time for a break, you know?" John suggested.

"What, permanently?!" Roger uttered.

"No, I mean 6 months respite to do whatever else we want to do."

"Although if Fred's son is in hospital and he's meant to be booked with Montserrat Cabale for a solo album than I think we'll need longer than six months."

"Also," John began, "Veronica and I are-"

"Not again!" Roger cut across him, "You breed like rabbits, you two!"

"Congratulations!" Said Brian.

"No, you've both got the wrong end of the stick!" John shot them both down, "We're not having another baby, we're just thinking of having more time with our family since I was away a lot last year!"

"And buying another Porsche?" Roger teased.

"Hey! Now that I have my license back I won't let that happen again!" John nagged, recoiling on the other end at the memory of crashing his new car a year before last.

"I suppose I could head to Tenerife and focus on more of my space ventures for the next while..." Brian mused.

"Now that you mention it, maybe I could do a Masters in electronics or something." John followed.

All the while Rory stopped drinking and started to babble in Roger arms, throwing her half-empty bottle onto the ground in a strop.

"Oi! Don't do that, there's lots of good stuff in that!" Roger gingerly bent down with her to pick it up again, only to bring the teat up to his own lips and drink from it, "Mmm nom nom nom! See? It's good!"

"Where's that weird 'sucky' noise coming from?" Deaky asked after a few moments.

"I'm drinking Dom's milk." Roger casually replied.

"What, surely you don't mean her breast milk?"

Roger didn't answer.

"Ugh! Why?!" Brian exclaimed.

"Come on boys," Roger smirked to himself, "you must've tried your own wives'-"

"I'm hanging up now!" The lead guitarist declared in disgust.

Deaky the bass guitarist simply said, "...No comment. Talk later."

Then there was a dial tone from both ends.

"Well, I think that was a success. Don't you?" Roger put the phone back on the wall, and planted another kiss on the side of Rory's head as he adjusted her in his arms.

He glanced into the living room and saw Dom kneeling beside Felix, who was sitting at his small table with paper and some pens.

"You finally got him to shut up and settle, I see..." he walked in and reached down to ruffle his son's mousey brown hair.

"He's making a card for his friend Johnny." Dom explained.

"Would you call them friends, though? They're more like playmates when we're on tour." Roger sat down, placing Rory on his knee.

"It's more for the parents, really," Dominique shrugged, and asked him, "speaking of which, any word on Monica?"

"Nope," Roger shook his head, making goofy faces at his daughter as she stared back up at him with her big hazel eyes, "Not one..."

*****

"Mo? ...Mo, wake up!"

Monica stirred, blinking her eyes open to see her friend Paula standing above her.

"Sorry to wake you from your nap, but the doctor's here."

She looked over. Roshni was still sat on her chair beside her brother, and standing at the door there was now a woman in a white coat with a stethoscope slung around her neck.

The doctor stepped into the room, "Are you the mother of Johnny Bulsara?"

"That's me." Monica groggily responded, sitting back up slowly so that she wouldn't  hurt her stiff neck.

The doctor to turned to Paula, "Will you excuse us, please?"

"It's alright, she's my friend who's looking after my daughter for me. I would rather she be here." Monica defended, allowing a now timid Roshni to climb onto her lap.

"With your daughter present?" The doctor looked at her quizzically.

Monica nodded, feeling Roshni clinging onto her as if to say, "I don't want to go anywhere, mum".

"If you wish," the doctor agreed, closing the door behind her as she told Paula, "Why don't you sit down with your friend? I've got good news and bad news about Johnny Bulsara's condition."

"Do you want to hear the bad news first?" Paula asked as she sat down, to which Monica nodded.

"Very well..." the doctor took the free chair from the wall, and sat down in front of them, "I'll just go straight to it. The bad news I'm afraid is that, due to the renal trauma from the car accident, Johnny's body is currently running on one kidney."

"Mum, what does 'renal' mean?" Roshni whispered to her mother, only to be shushed by Paula.

The doctor continued matter-of-factly, "You see, our tests showed the injured one that got punctured by a broken rib and caused the blood infection has completely failed as a result. The remaining kidney is working, but it is also badly bruised that it appears to be struggling on its own. If something isn't done soon enough then it might not be able to heal fully and properly function in the long run."

"What needs done, doctor?" Monica automatically asked, rocking her daughter on her knee.

"If Johnny is going to survive, he needs a kidney transplant." She answered.

"A kidney transplant? What's that?" Roshni repeated.

"Alright Roshni, let's go outside" Paula stood up, reaching her arm out to her.

"It's fine," Monica assured her, and asked the doctor, "How does one go about doing that?"

"Well, the main thing is to find an organ donor first before we can transfer him to Great Ormond Street for the procedure and the care that he'd need." The doctor clarified.

"What a palaver..." Monica thought.

As if she could read her friend's mind, Paula asked, "What's the good news then?"

"The good news is that if it weren't for that blood transfusion to replace all that infected blood that was lost, Johnny would be on his way out for certain." The doctor said, pointing to the sachet hanging on the pole.

Monica and Paula glanced at one another, mutually thinking they'd wished to have heard the good news first.

But the more seconds Monica spent thinking about it, the more she realised that maybe Freddie's gesture wasn't such a bad thing.

The doctor peered to Roshni sitting in her mother's arms, and kindly asked, "Are you Johnny's sister?"

"Twin sister." The girl shyly corrrected her.

"Oh, we may have a solution!" the doctor glanced to the two women, "Johnny is in an ideal situation more than most, having a sister close in age and all..."

"What are you implying?" Paula cocked a brow back at her.

She suggested, "You have the option to persuade your daughter into agreeing to donating one of her own kidneys to her brother."

"Mummy?!" Roshni anxiously burrowed her head into her mother's neck.

"Catch yourself on!" Paula uttered.

"It's okay..." Monica protectively cradled the girls head closer against her, covering her ears as she told the doctor, "I know you're trying to help doctor, but there's no way that's happening."

The doctor took a brief pause to gather her words, "I understand completely why you're reluctant to such an idea, but at Johnny's age he should ideally be given organs from a child so that they can develop with him as he grows older. And there'd be a higher success rate if the organ is from that of a relative with similar tissue."

"But my daughter has been through enough already. Is there another option?"

The doctor warily explained, "Well, since Johnny's life isn't under immediate threat he'll have to get put on the waiting list which can take months, and that's risky in his current condition. Unless he faces an emergency situation which forces him to get a transplant right away, we haven't got much hope otherwise as his quality of life might be affected... do you understand what I'm saying, Miss Brannigan?"

"Mum?" Roshni suddenly interrupted, climbing off her lap, "I can give one of my kidneys to Johnny, if you like."

"Don't be silly, sweetheart. You don't know what you're saying." Monica grabbed her hand.

"It's okay, mum. As long as they put me to sleep like they did when they fixed my arm before they cut me open, I won't be scared." The girl did her best to convince her.

"Roshni, come over here and leave your mum have a think." Paula instructed, signalling her towards the window.

"Go on, do what Auntie Paula tells you to do." Monica nodded Roshni away.

The girl unenthusiastically dragged her feet to where Paula was standing.

Monica and the doctor watched as Paula bent down to the girl's height, and looked her in the eyes, "You don't have to do anything that you feel forced into doing, alright?"

"But I feel so bad... I called Johnny some horrible things when he was awake." Roshni murmured remorsefully, her lower lip trembling.

"I'm sure you do," Paula sympathetically reached over and pat the girl's shoulder, "But you have to think about what's best for yourself too, pet. Your body isn't fully developed, and giving up a kidney at your age will have a lot of effects on your own body when you're older."

"It's not fair! Johnny's the one who got more badly injured, not me!" Roshni ran back to her brother's bedside, burrowing her face into his mattress.

As the girl started to sob, the doctor stood back up, "I'll give you a moment to gather yourselves, Miss Brannigan."

Monica stared into space whilst Paula went over to comfort Roshni, just as a thought occurred to her that hadn't even crossed her mind until now...

"Doctor?" She got up off the sofa, calling after her, "Doctor, wait!"

The woman who in the white coat was several feet away from the door stopped walking, and turned back around, "Yes, Miss Brannigan?"

Monica leaned against the doorframe and asked her, "I know you said that a child's kidney would be more ideal, but what if Johnny was given an adult one?"

"As long as the tissues are still a good match, then yes." She said, walking back towards her.

"Great, give him mine!" Monica blurted out.

"Don't be daft, Mo!" Paula stood up from her spot at the bed, having overheard.

"What? He comes from my DNA, and I have two working kidneys. It's perfect!"

Paula then reminded her, "You also had alcohol poisoning last month, and almost drowned!"

"Your friend is right," the doctor followed, stepping back into the room and closing the door behind her, "Excessive alcohol consumption is bad for your kidneys, as well as your liver."

"Alright, I admit I have a problem with drink," Monica reluctantly let out, "But my addiction only really started last year and I haven't touched a drink since. My body is probably cleaner than it's been it a while."

"But think about your own livelihood and what you'd have to sacrifice. It'd be more than just your kidney." Paula reasoned whilst a tearful Roshni silently watched on.

Monica looked Johnny in bed once again, unconscious and covered in wires, catheters, breathing tubes and all sorts of plastic piping and instruments that did not belong inside his body and orifices.

"It's not fair, Paula," she thought aloud dejectedly, "I've had my life, my son deserves to have his. And if that means I have to go off alcohol, maybe forever, then so be it."

The doctor pushed the door handle open once more, "Give it some thought, and I'll come back later." 

Once the door closed after her, and they were alone again, Paula said, "I don't see how giving up alcohol forever is such a bad thing in your case, if you're certain that's what you want to do?"

Monica got onto her knees and kneeled on the side of the bed opposite her friend and her daughter. She then took Johnny's cold, limp hand in hers once again, breathing deeply as she pressed her lips against his dry knuckles. 

Oh, how she missed the cheeky and infectious smile that used to be on his face that was now bruised and invaded by breathing apparatus attached to the ventilator. How she missed the boy's annoying pranks and silly little habits that would make her day somewhat brighter and more interesting, and the mischievous gleam in his brown eyes when he was up to no good. How she missed the sound of his footsteps running through the corridors, and piano keys of his Yamaha keyboard playing Scott Joplin's The Entertainer over and over again, and now they were all merely replaced by the monotonous sounds of the machines in the background that were keeping him alive. How she missed Johnny's presence, and how she was going to miss it forever...

Finally, she answered her friend:

"I don't think I've ever been more certain about anything in my life, Paula."