The next time I went to see my Ma I made sure to stop at a hairdresser's first and get my head in order. I didn't chop my shoulder-length curls off as she would have liked. I always found adding layers to my curls gave them both volume and style. Besides, I liked wearing my hair long.

I decided I definitely liked the way my face looked with a goatee so I didn't shave it off either, not entirely at least. I did, however, get rid of most of the fuzz on my neck. My jawline was one of my best features after all.

I also decided to go home after what had seemed like forever. I couldn't go see Ma in a suit, she'd think I had good news to tell her when I really didn't. I'd quit my job, quite theatrically I might add. And I had nothing lined up for me. Not unless I was ready to leave Seris for a different country far away from Ma.

I strode down the ever-familiar cobblestone pavement just on the edge of the park, my hands in the pocket of my faded blue jeans. A skip to my step as the wind whipped my hair over my face. This bright in the day the park looked like it belonged to a different time. The white oaks and hornbeams looked calmer without the rain, no outstretched arms, no begging the heavens.

I felt free. Happy.

Even though nothing had changed. Not really.

I ran a hand through my mousy curls as I reached the hospice with its red-bricked walls. The door was open for once, although it might have been because I wasn't visiting at an ungodly hour. I looked at both ends of the hall but no one seemed interested in receiving me.

Another knot weighed in my stomach. Their lack of security was appalling. I considered taking my mother to a different hospice altogether as I slipped out of my sneakers and into a pair of soft, white slippers. I would give the staff a piece of my mind if I ever saw any of them.

I stomped the entire way down the hall until I reached my mother's room. I would have slammed the door open too if it wasn't already ajar. And if I hadn't spotted Ma sitting ... sitting!

"Ma?" I didn't even bother knocking, my frail mother looked years younger than my last visit. Her face was rounder, fuller, and her greying, brown curls were tucked away behind a neat bun. She even wore a little green cardigan over the spotted, white gown.

I beamed, covering the distance between us in two long strides before I clasped her hand as firmly as I could. "You look good, Ma," I confessed, taking a seat on the bed so I would be at eye level with her.

My mother attempted a smile, but was only able to show me half of her crooked teeth, "So do you." Her voice was a raspy whisper, but I didn't care. She was speaking clearly and in full sentences. I would've pinched myself but I knew this wasn't a dream. I watched her free hand find its way to my head, "Get a haircut, Theo!" she fussed, the faintest of creases appearing on the space between the brows.

I laughed, I was sure I did, but I was still wiping away tears a minute later. Ma's hand moved to the side of my cheek, she wasn't frowning anymore either.

"You need to let me go, kiddo."

I shook my head, the twinge of irritation returning, "You need to stop giving up," I said instead, my voice rising a notch. I gave her small, bony hand a gentle squeeze, "I'm not letting go," I declared, "I can find a cure, I know I can! I'm almost there!"

"Of course, you can." I was given a crooked smile again as she stroked my hair gently, "No one's smarter than my boy." Another half-smile, "But ... I'm still dying Theo."

I shook my head again. She wasn't dying, she was giving up, and I wasn't going to let her. It was infuriating. No one seemed to believe me when I told them how close I was.

My mother's hand moved to my wrist and she tutted, "You've lost weight," she said, far too quickly, brows creasing again. And I raised both of my own eyebrows at her obvious attempt at changing the subject. "Are you still spending all day in that horrid lab?" Ma continued, ignoring me entirely.

I grinned, my mother had always shared my hatred of the University, although for very different reasons. She hated the lack of appreciation I was given and the fact that I was more a poster boy to them than a scientist. I mostly hated Dea and Verne. Verne more than Dea, a spineless bobblehead like him should never have become the dean.

"I see what you're doing Ma," I told her, still grinning like an idiot, "and it won't work."

Her eyes narrowed, or at least one of them did, "You're avoiding the question," she responded, with a sharpness to her tone I had forgotten existed. Ma then proceeded to pull up the long sleeves of my polo shirt to reveal my broad, yet bony arms. "You're all bones!"

I laughed, harder than I should have at my frail mother fussing over her perfectly healthy son. I took both her small hands in mine, "Okay," I relented, giving them another squeeze. I wasn't going to ruin today by making it about myself, "I'll order something." I let go of her hands to draw the phone out of my pocket, "How does soup sound?"

"Bland."

I chuckled, but my laughter died as quickly as it had begun at the sight of my lock screen. Eleven missed calls from the university. I could practically taste the bile gushing up my throat. What the hell did they want now?

"Theo?"

"Hmm?" I responded distractedly, never really taking my eyes off the screen as I tapped to see how long ago the most recent call had been. If they were asking me to return, I was going to murder them.

"Dr Gilbert!"

I looked up, raising an eyebrow at my grinning mother, "I could hear you just fine Ma," I said, putting the phone aside. But I couldn't help grinning back, my mother had no idea how little that title actually meant to me. It was a means to an end. It was status. It was power. I didn't need any of that for her. I'd move heaven and earth to make sure she got what she wanted, regardless of my status.

Her eyes didn't leave my phone as mine had though, and I caught the creases forming on her forehead, between her brows. "What did they want now?" Ma demanded as she continued glaring at the phone.

I snorted, "I don't know," I confessed, "I don't care," I added, taking her hands in mine again, "I'm here to spend time with you."

The creases didn't go away as she turned from the phone to me, "What did they want? Are you s-s-skipping w-work?"

"No." I knelt by her side in an attempt to get closer to her, "No" I repeated softly giving my feeble mother's hand another kiss. The stress was getting to her and I couldn't let it, "I quit," I announced, beaming widely, "and they are either threatening me or begging me. I don't care which one."

I don't know why I had expected her to relax at this, her brows furrowed even more and her breath began to hitch, "W-what will ... you do?"

I shrugged, "I'm doing it right now." I squeezed her hand, "Spending time with the fiercest mother in the world."

She shook her head firmly, "P-p-powerful p-p-people Theo—" The rest of her sentence was drowned in a fit of coughs. Her tiny frame rocked back and forth as she hacked her lungs out. I rushed for the small blue cup on her tableside. It was light and made of plastic, like it belonged to someone much younger. It even had a dome top with a blue straw.

"Drink," I said rubbing my hand gently up and down her back as I brought the straw to her lips, "Slowly ... that's it."

She pushed the cup away after just a sip, shaking her head, "No ...fr-friends," she insisted, clawing a fistful of my shirt, "Need friends n-n-not enem-emen-ene—" She gave a frustrated huff and glared at me, "too arro—gant Theo."

"Gee thanks, Ma," I responded dryly, placing my hand over hers and tugging myself free as softly as I could. I then helped her lie back down. I would have told her I didn't need friends or something equally vain just to really prove her right, but I wanted her to get better and stressing about the kind of adult I had turned into wasn't going to do that.

"Theo," she groaned, stretching two syllables of my name for a good few seconds. She looked small and old and exhausted. Her bony chest rising and falling erratically. It ate at me every time.

"I have friends Ma," I lied, squeezing her trembling hand in both of mine, "I sort of have a job offer already too, I just ..." I broke off in a sigh, "it's in another country Ma, and I can't leave you alone."

She brought a second shaking hand over mine, "Can't ... help if-f-f you s-s-st-stay." She looked firmly at me, and regardless of the tremble in her hands and voice, there was none on her face.

"Please," I begged, placing my head on her wrinkled, yet soft hands, "Please stop giving up." I shut my eyes, trying to take in the coolness of her hands, somehow transfer it to my forehead if I could.

"Theo," she croaked, her voice had gotten even softer somehow, "Can't ... help if-f-f you ... st-stay."

"You're wrong," I repeated the umpteenth time, not opening my eyes, not needing to. Every second I spent with her could by my last and she didn't seem to understand it, "I can rush here," I insisted, "I live five minutes away, I can run here if you need me."

"You n-need ... a life," the old woman huffed, "n-not your ... mama."

My eyes shot open and my head snapped back up, "Ma!" I huffed, a twinge forming in my stomach, "We're having a serious conversation here!"

"C-can't ... h-help if ... you ... st-stay."

"Yeah yeah," I said, giving her hand a light pat, "I heard you the first twenty times."

My mother's nostrils flared before a slightly harder whack followed on the side of my head.

"Ouch!" I nearly jumped back, she had barely been able to talk five seconds ago and yet here she was denting my skull with her bare hands.

"S-still ... your m-m-mother," she said, and while her voice had lost almost all its volume, her nostrils were still flared and her eyebrows knitted as close as they could.

"Fine mother," I responded, with a tone pointed enough to receive another smack. But I gave my tiny mother a swift peck on the top of her head before she could. "I'll take the job on one condition." I pulled the covers all the way up to her waist, "You eat properly," I insisted, sitting down beside her again, "I'll call everyday to make sure. I'll try and pop around every weekend if I can, I'll—"

Ma squeezed my hand with such force I lost my train of thought,"Liv-ive ... your li-life."

My right eyebrow went back up, "You remember what I do for a living, don't you?" I took her hand in both of mine again, "I'm not giving up on you ... never."

I let go of my mother's hand with a final squeeze and reached for my phone again. I stood up, towering high above my mother.

"Okay so one phone call and then we're having some soup," I announced, "I fancy some wontons too, you?"

Ma jerked her head sideways which I took for a 'No.'

"I'll be right back," I promised her as I stepped out of the room. I stared at my sponsor's name on the screen for a good few seconds before I dialled. Before I decided.

I wasn't leaving Ma, I was doing this for her.

All of it.