Disclaimer: Okay, you get the picture by now

Chapter Three: Diagnosis

Francis was still unconscious. Gear rode in the ambulance with the pyro, the paramedics around him working at a frenzied pace to keep Francis' heart beating. His pulse fluttered and jumped erratically.

Static flew overhead. No matter how hard he tried, he could not erase the image of Francis' face suddenly going sheet white, his green eyes rolling, and his body slumping backwards, landing with a dull thud on the grass. It replayed over and over again.

The ambulance skittered through traffic lights and careened into Dakota General. The paramedics leapt out the back doors, one taking the back end of the stretcher, lowering it carefully and skillfully to the ground while the other hoisted the other end.

Francis was still on the stretcher. One of the paramedics had strapped an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose. Gear hopped out and watched the paramedics race towards the Emergency doors. Static landed beside his partner and folded his disc with one fluid flick of the wrist, tucking it away into a pocket in his coat.

"What's happening?" Static asked.

Gear shook his head. "I don't know. He's not stable. They're trying to figure out what's wrong with him. Someone's going to have to diagnose him before anything can happen. All they can do now is keep him breathing."

Tires squealed behind the superhero duo. They whirled around.

"What the…?" Gear started.

News vans piled into the hospital parking lot, camera crews and reporters with microphones leaping out of the vehicles much like the paramedics had. One camera swung and spotted the stretcher with Francis on it seconds before it vanished through the sliding doors.

"Oh no, media frenzy. Don't let them get in the hospital." Static said. He and Gear ran for the reporters.

"Static! What is Hotstreak's current condition?"

"Gear, what brought on the strange incident?"

"Static, how does it feel to know you killed Hotstreak?"

"Has Hotstreak contracted a fatal and contagious disease?"

"What? I didn't kill him! He's not dead!" Static yelled angrily.

"Listen up! Nobody is allowed in the hospital." Gear waved his hands to get the attention of the media.

"We do not know Hotstreak's condition, or even what happened. We're sure the fine doctors at Dakota General will be able to figure it out, but for right now, we have no further comments." Static added.

There was a loud collective groan.

"We mean it. We'll let we know when we know." Static said.

The media still did not look particularly happy. They retreated back to their vans to skulk and wait for a development.

White blurs, antiseptic smells, the rattle of the oxygen in his mask. Francis jerked in and out of consciousness as the paramedics rolled him down the hall. He moved and someone pinned down his arm, jabbing his wrist with a needle.

It was horrible, the stuff of nightmares. The stuff of his nightmares. Francis tried to move again but now there were two sets of hands holding him down. More hands gripped the sheet under him and transferred him to a bed. The jarring movements made him gasp and suck in more stale air then he wanted. His lungs protested and Francis lapsed into a violent coughing spasm. Someone removed the mask and pressed on his chest.

Francis groaned and someone's deliciously cool hand landed on his forehead before being jerked away.

"Jesus, he's burning up. He burned my hand."

"Okay people, stabilize him. Breathing and fever, these are our main concerns. Go, people go."

Francis wanted to open his eyes, shove the myriad hands away from him, and burn the whole place to hell. But for some reason his eyelids felt too heavy…

Dr. Cooper rubbed his eyes. He was sitting at the table in the lounge, coffee mug in one hand, medical journal in the other.

One of his interns stuck his head in the door. "Excuse me Dr. Cooper? One of the metahumans just got brought in. Fever, trouble breathing, just had a seizure too. We're having a hard time diagnosing him, Dr. Horowitz requested your help."

Dr. Cooper put the journal down and took a nonchalant sip of coffee. "Which metahuman?"

The intern frowned. "Why does it matter?"

"Just tell me."

"The fire one, uh…Hotstreak is it?"

Dr. Cooper nodded, put the mug down, and stood. "Tell Horowitz to order a bone marrow biopsy right away."

The intern disappeared from the doorway.

Dr. Cooper rubbed his eyes again. "Shit."

Static and Gear were waiting outside Francis' hospital room, watching as the nurses and doctors put the pyro back in the bed. He had just been through some sort of procedure. It was alarming that Francis still hadn't awoken.

"I suppose you two are in charge of him?"

Static and Gear turned their heads and noticed a tall doctor with a balding head of brown hair and a beard to match. He wore glasses perched on the very edge of his nose. His eyes and mouth were both pinched into a frown. His long white lab coat flapped around him. Immediately he had Static and Gear's attention, here was a man with authority, a man with answers.

"He's a ward of the state so yeah, I guess we're as much in charge as anybody." Gear agreed.

"My name is Dr. Cooper. The results of the biopsy are in and Francis has leukemia."

Time stood still for a second. Static actually felt his heart stop.

"What?"

"I was the one who ordered the biopsy. I had to be sure. I haven't seen Francis since he was eight, I wanted to make sure it was the same person and if it was, not a different disease…however unlikely that was."

"When Francis was eight?" Gear asked, the same bewildered look on his face that Static was sure was on his own.

"He did mention he was in the hospital for two years." Static remembered aloud.

"When?" Gear asked in amazement.

"When Alva, that whole thing on the island and we were chained together." Static answered, remembering how pale Francis had gotten at the sight of a needle, how he had shrank against the wall in terror. He had seemed like a little boy then. Static looked through the window into Francis' room. He looked like a little boy now too. Horribly vulnerable and weak, not like Hotstreak at all. Static looked away.

"Geeze." Gear breathed out. "I gotta say, that's not what I was expecting to hear."

Dr. Copper looked between the two. "I was Francis' doctor then. I was afraid he would have a relapse when he stopped coming to his monthly checkups around two years ago."

"What happens now?" Static asked.

"Now we put him through treatment and hope for the best. It worked once before. He's strong, he's fighter."

Static nodded. "For sure a fighter."

"Dr. Cooper?" One of the nurses walked out of Francis' room. "He's stabilized. He should wake soon."

Dr. Cooper looked at the two heroes. "Let me know when he does."

"You have cancer."

It wasn't a statement or a question. Static was simply voicing his astonishment out loud.

"Yeah." Francis agreed.

"You have cancer." Static repeated.

"Didn't we already go over this?" Francis looked at Gear for help.

"If you want to be specific, he's got leukemia." Gear added helpfully.

The three were in a hospital room. Gear was flipping through Francis' medical chart, Static was slumped in a chair looking shocked, and Francis was lying in the bed. The pyro was pale and his breathing was labored, but he had regained consciousness.

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" Static asked.

Francis shrugged. "Didn't want to."

Static frowned. "You didn't want to." The hero reiterated.

"Is that something you would tell people if you were me?" Francis asked.

That was met with silence.

"Okay, I guess not. But…why haven't you been on medication? You knew you had leukemia. You could have died."

Francis tried to sit up, felt woozy, and promptly dropped his head back onto the pillow, glaring at Static all the while. "I was…until the Bang. I can't just walk into a hospital and get my prescription filled with every cop in the city looking for me can I?"

Static looked away.

"Yeah, didn't think so." Francis squirmed in the bed, playing with his IV. He was very uncomfortable, not to mention embarrassed. After years of hiding his disease he was now being ousted publicly. The pitying looks Static and the nurses kept shooting his way made his skin crawl.

Gear slapped the chart back onto the end of the bed and turned the TV on in boredom.

"Why are you two still here?" Francis asked. He winced at how raspy his voice sounded.

"Not getting me like I asked them to."

The three looked at the doorway.

"Ah shit." Francis swore, rolling his head on the pillow. "Hiya Doc."

Dr. Cooper strolled into the room and over to Francis' bedside. He put his hand on the teenager's shoulder. "Why did you stop coming around Francis?"

"Nobody's called me that in a long time." Francis grinned.

"It's good to see you, even if you are dying again." Dr. Cooper patted his shoulder a second time, reassuringly. "Let's see if we can't change that."

Francis nodded, still grinning weakly. "Sounds good to me."

Weeks went by, then a couple of months. The media coverage died off after the initial shock that Francis Stone, F-Stop, Hotstreak was human after all. He was not a machine, fist cocked and fire burning menacingly, and he was one of them.

People even started to like the pyro. Virgil had noticed more than one girl at Dakota Union High School with his picture taped to the inside of their lockers, smirking sexily. Frieda explained; no one can resist the bad boy, especially not one who was lying ill in the hospital.

Then one day, three months after Francis had collapsed, Static and Gear returned to Dakota General for their weekly visit.

They walked into Francis' room and stopped dead in the hallway. The medicine bottles usually planted on the bedside table were gone. The bed was neatly made. Francis' clothes were gone. The window was ajar. A folded note lay on the blanket.

Static opened the note. There were two messages.

Sparky and Whiz Kid,

Don't worry about me. Seriously. I got my meds and I'm ditching Dakota. Thanks for helping me out, but I can't stand another second in this place.

Doc,

I know you're gonna be pissed at me all over again and I'm sorry because you've saved my life twice now. But trust me when I say I won't let leukemia beat me, I won't let it get away from me again. I promise.

-- Francis

"He's gone?" Dr. Cooper was behind them. Static handed him the note. The doctor read it in quiet, a furrow between his eyebrows showing his disappointment.

"I expected as much." The man said after a few minutes.

"Do you think he'll be okay?" Gear asked.

Dr. Cooper nodded and smiled. "Of course, he always is."

Author's Note:

Yippee! Another story written and done with. Hope you liked it.

Okay, pleasepleasepleasepleasepleasepleaseplease...this is a story. Don't look too much into the leukemia, don't think it's insensitive or anything like that. Honest, I wasn't aiming for that. I just thought, cancer is a disease that would keep someone in the hospital for two years...there you go. I did a little research to get the symptoms but that's it so if I didn't portray quite right, deal with it. I was actually inspired by the episode of Scrubs when Ben Sullivan finds out he has leukemia (my favorite episode). So there you go, take everything with a grain of salt.

Oh and Dr. Cooper is an homage to The Big Bang Theory

ALSO PLEASE REVIEW!