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Con Te Partiro	By : Akiko86 Category: +S through Z > South Park Views: 3947 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own South Park, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Chapter 3

The next morning, an orderly came to escort Kenny to physical therapy. He was switched from his current ventilator to a smaller, portable version and was taken down in a wheelchair. Once there, he began to realize just how quickly his body was failing. He could stand on his own, but when he tried to walk, it was as though he were moving through water. He felt heavy and slow and off-balance, and every step was accompanied by the disconcerting sensation that he was about to fall flat on his face. Kenny wondered for a moment if the padded floor mat was actually disguised quicksand.
A rather sweet, pretty woman assisted him with some stretches and exercises that looked easy enough when she'd demonstrated, but turned out to be laborious and painful for his damaged body. Before the hour-long session was up, she strapped a pair of rather intimidating looking braces onto his legs and asked Kenny to try walking again. The support helped, but the fact that he needed it upset him. The therapist encouraged him to walk back to his room with an orderly's help, and Kenny did his best to comply.
By the time he reached his room, he was exhausted, and his legs had started to ache. The orderly helped him back into his bed, where Kenny sank gratefully into his pillow. As he was being hooked back up to heart monitor, his parents came in. Thankfully, they got there just late enough that they had not seen the effort it had taken him to walk, nor had they seen the large metal braces that were now concealed beneath the sheet.
“Hi mom, hi dad.”
“Hey, son.” Mr. McCormick reached out and awkwardly patted the boy on the head. “How're you doing?”
Kenny shrugged. “I'm okay. Just got back from therapy,” he replied.
His father winced at that. He probably didn't want to think about his boy needing physical therapy just to avoid getting worse. “You ah, you look tired.”
His mother diverted the conversation by sitting down on the edge of the bed and offering Kenny his teddy bear. “I bet you couldn't sleep without this.”
“Yeah. Thank you.” He took the bear from his mother's outstretched hand and hugged it close. It was good to have something familiar to hold on to.
“We brought your PJ's and your CD player too.” She picked nervously at the sheet.
“Thanks mom.”
It was obvious his parents were uncomfortable being here, so he offered them an easy out. “I'm kinda tired, you guys.”
“Oh, well, okay...d'ya want to sleep for a bit, Kenny?” asked his dad.
“Yeah.”
“All right, baby. We'll come back a little later.” His mother leaned over and kissed his forehead, then followed her husband out of the room.
Kenny watched them leave, trying to ignore his aching legs. Because his illness was progressing freakishly fast, the therapist had pushed him a little harder than he could handle, thinking his dystrophy was less advanced than it really was. In addition to that, since this was Kenny's first experience with therapy and because he didn't know all that much about his disease, he'd had no idea that he was being pushed beyond his limits. The result was an altogether nasty cramp that started in his calves and went right up to his hips.
Kenny closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the pain. He would not cry, he told himself. He was sore and frightened and alone but goddamn it, he would not cry. Hot liquid welled up in his eyes, but he blinked it back and buried his face in his bear. “Not gonna cry,” he whispered to himself, “I'm not gonna cry...”

~~~~

“Kenny's sick?” Kyle asked hesitantly.
“Well, how sick?” queried Stan, frightened by the news that one of his closest friends was in the hospital.
“Children,” said Chef gently, “Kenny has been diagnosed with a terminal disease.”
Not quite comprehending, Stan looked up at his parents. “But...the doctors are going to make him better, right?”
“Oh dear.” Sharon Marsh buried her face in her husband's shoulder. How was she supposed to tell her little boy that one of his friends was dying?
“Mom?” the lack of confirmation scared Stan even more. “That's what hospitals are for. They – they can make him better.”
“Randy.” Sharon's eyes pleaded with her husband to tell their son what she could not.
He knelt next to Stan's chair. “They don't think so, Stanley. Your friend is terminally ill and that means...” he groped for the right words, “well, son, that means he's...going to be going to heaven soon.”
“Wait,” Kyle held up his hand. “Kenny's going to die?” The disbelief and sadness were clear on his young face.
“He might, Kyle,” replied his father, placing a hand on Kyle's shoulder.
Stan was on the verge of tears now. “But...he's our f-f-f-friend,” he stammered.
“We know,” Mr. Mackey was talking now, “and that's why he's going to need you boys to be strong for him, m'kay? He needs you now more than ever.”
“No! This can't happen!” Stan cried desperately. “Kenny can't die. Kenny can't die!” he collapsed into his fathers arms and began to sob. Randy held his boy close. There really wasn't anything he could do but let Stan cry it out.

End Chapter 3.

Hey, me again. I'm working hard on this little fic, and I hope I'm doing okay so far. I'm planning to update this at least once a week, and the whole story will have at least five more chapters. I know its off to a slow start, but things will get better. Thanks for reading!
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