bakerstreet | I'll be missing you

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I'll be missing you

(TRIGGER WARNING. This meme deals heavy with death and also possibly with strong violence or with suicide/depression. If you are not comfortable reading about that, please PLEASE do not proceed further.)

The Last Words Meme

This is it. The final curtain. You're at the end of your life, and there's someone here you really, really need to say something to before you die.

CAUSE OF DEATH
1 - Accidental. Nobody meant for this to happen, but it doesn't matter now. Due to negligance, arrogance or just plain bad luck, you've become gravely ill or injured and are now in your last moments. This covers all kinds of accidental deaths--strangulation, drowning, car accidents, unintentional beheadings, whatever you can think of.

2 - Murder. Somebody really didn't like you. Enough to kill you, it seems. You're now dead by someone else's hand. (Maybe even the person replying to you?) As with accidental death, this covers all types of intentional, malicious murder, regardless of method--so poisoning, stabbing, shooting, etc., all work here. Same with all the below options: any possible variation you can think of on it will work!

3 - Suicide. There is no hope for you, and no way out. You've reached the absolute bottom pits of despair, and the only recourse you have is to take your own life. Someone shows up to stop you... but they're too late to help you now.

4 - Terminal illness. You have cancer, or tuberculosis, or cholera back when people got cholera. The doctors have done everything they could and it wasn't enough. The only thing to do now is give your loved ones the bad news.

5 - Starvation. So thirsty. So hungry. Maybe you've been traveling in the desert for hours, or maybe you're just really poor. Whatever the reason, it doesn't matter, because you're slowly wasting away until you're nothing but skin and bones.

6 - Death in battle. You've died a hero's death, and gone out in a blaze of glory. Or maybe you were a coward who got shot for deserting? Either way, you're now a casualty of war. Will you be honored with a parade or scorned as a traitor to your country?

7 - Natural causes. You've lived a long, happy life, and now your story is at an end. In a warm bed, surrounded by your family and friends, you peacefully drift off. Just make sure that you've made a will somewhere, or at least use your deathbed to set the record straight. Otherwise, who knows what kind of squabbles might errupt after you leave this world?

TIME LEFT
1 - A few minutes. You're fading fast and you don't have much, well, any time left. Better tell the person with you that you love -- or despise -- them with your last breath, because you'll never have the chance otherwise.

2 - A few hours. You haven't got much time left. Is there someone you still need to kill? To kiss? Better do it quick. (Note: last kisses not recommended for people dying of highly contagious illnesses.)

3 - A few days. The doctors have given you the news, and it's not very good. You've only got a couple days left to live. You should start trying to make peace with people and saying your final goodbyes with the days you have left.

4 - A few weeks. Take that vacation you've always wanted to go on but never had the chance to. Go do that thing you've never thought you'd be any good at. You've got only weeks left to live. Don't waste them.

5 - A few months. While you aren't quite on death's doorstep yet, your lifespan has still dwindled considerably from what you probably thought it would be. How are you going to spend your last few months on Earth? Making the world a better place and telling your family you love them? Or raising as much hell as possible?

RELATIONSHIP
1 - Lovers. This is your husband, wife, boyfriend, girlfriend, mistress, whatever you call them they were the person you wanted to spend your life with. Too bad you don't have much of a life to spend with them anymore.

2 - Siblings. Your beloved little or older sibling is just standing there, watching you slowly waste away before their eyes. Can you say anything to comfort them? Note that it doesn't necessarily have to be interpreted literally; adopted siblings and friends so close they might as well be siblings work too.

3 - Parent and child. Nothing is worse than a parent having to bury their child... except, maybe, a young child now alone in the world after losing their parent. As with the sibling prompt, this can be expanded to include parental figures and people who are LIKE a father/mother to you as well as actual biological parents.

4 - Co-workers. teammates or classmates. You were fighting for the same side. Or you worked together in the same office for years. Or they sat behind you in biology all semester. However you met, how do your react when you find out someone who used to be a fixture in your life is going to die?

5 - Friends. You're the best of friends! You go everywhere together, know all each other's secrets, and are never seen apart. At least, you didn't use to be. Now one of you is dying and the other one is left alone in the world. Or maybe you're dying together. Wait, is that better or worse?

6 - Bitter enemies. You hate, hate, HATE this person. In fact, maybe you killed them. Or they killed you. Or maybe nobody killed anybody and they're just bitter that Mother Nature got to you before they did. Regardless, they want to confront you one last time before you bite it, if only to rub your nose in your imminent demise and their ability to outlive you.

7 - Murderer and victim. Perhaps you didn't even know the person you killed or who killed you. Maybe it's the above categories and this. Either way, at the moment of death the person who did it is there.

8 - Doctor and patient. Much like murderer and victim, can be combined. You're in the hospital during the last moments.

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Edited 2012-10-14 03:18 (UTC)

It had started with just a low cough at college. He went to a small private university not far from Beacon Hills--a place where he could come home to to his family, pack, lover, when he wanted to. It pleased the former Omega--it gave him the necessary space, while giving him the closeness he craved at times.

It meant, though, that he was occasionally on his own. And if he got into trouble, that meant that sometimes no one was around to help him. He still wasn't sure how it happened, or when, but what he had thought was just a minor cough (not a cold, because werewolves didn't get sick, not conventionally), but by the third morning, he was coughing up black blood, and bleeding from his nose.

It scared the crap out of him, and once again, he was thankful his pack was close by. He knew something was seriously wrong--that someone had done something to him--but he wasn't sure what.

So when he started coughing up black chunks of...stuff, he drove home as fast as he could, by passing his house, and headed directly for Derek's, worried about what his answer would be--an answer that would confirm his fears.

That he was dying. That someone had poisoned him, and he was dying.

The fact that Isaac was there, too, was important, as well. Hiding stuff from his boyfriend was something he occasionally did--but this was too big, for that.

Isaac never particularly enjoyed when Stiles was away at college, but he understood his lover's need to learn, to be as normal as possible and so he didn't argue.

That didn't mean he had to like it.

He was sprawled out on the floor of the fixed-up Hale house when he smelled it; his mate's scent. But there was something off, something... different, tainting the scent that he usually enjoyed. Isaac was on his feet and headed to the door within seconds and followed his nose until he spotted Stiles.

Stiles, who was pale and gaunt and had black blood on his lips.

He was shaking and moving quickly to Stiles' side before he even realised it. Hands fluttered uselessly in front of him, unsure. "Stiles... what... what's wrong?"

"I don't know. I started--" Stiles had to stop speaking, a fit of coughing wracking his frame, spitting out more black bile onto the leaves beneath their feet. He let out a wet, sick sound, his knees feeling week.

"--I started spitting up this stuff. Bleeding from my nose...I think it's poison."

Isaac wraps an arm around Stiles' waist the moment he starts coughing, the other coming up to rest against his chest once he's finished spitting up black goo and he slowly directs him towards the house.

"Derek... Derek isn't here. But, we'll... we'll find a way to stop it, okay?" He wipes at the bile on Stiles' chin, wiping it off on his own pants as he leads his mate to the couch. "C'mon. Sit. I'll... I'll get some water and text Deaton."

"Thanks. I just--I couldn't go to my dad." Not yet--it would scare him too much. After what he went through with his mother, he doesn't want to put him through that again unless there really is no way to save him.

The walk to the couch nearly exhausts him, and he half collapses onto it, breathing heavily, his limbs shaking slightly, out of fear and exhaustion.

"I'm sorry...I've been careful. I didn't think anyone knew my secret." Some hunter must have figured it out, somehow.

Nodding, Isaac returned from the kitchen with a glass of water, phone in his other hand texting the vet. "It'll be best if we talk to Deaton first. We can... Then we'll have an idea about what we're dealing with." And whether or not Stiles would survive it. He wondered briefly about whether it would be worth contact on Chris Argent for his say either; even if he knew of other hunters in the area that weren't as tolerant or willing to follow the code.

"It's okay. We just... We have to figure out who it was and why. Should I call Mr. Argent?"

"Sure--I...anything might help. Maybe he'll know what was used." Stiles took the glass of water in shaky hands, swallowing it in big gulps, happy to get the taste of death out of his mouth. It hurt to swallow, but he knew he needed to try and stay hydrated, for all it would help.

Frowning, he pulled his legs up on himself, curling up against the couch, watching Isaac, before speaking quietly, honestly. "I'm scared."

Isaac nods, but doesn't call Chris. Instead, he texts Allison and tells her to come around to the Hale house, with her dad and NO ONE ELSE, ALLISON! IT'S IMPORTANT THAT ITS ONLY YOU TWO! And there's spelling errors the whole way through it, but he can't care about that now.

Kneeling down on the floor beside the couch, Isaac reaches out to card his fingers through Stiles' hair. "There's no reason to be. Okay? It's gunna be okay. Between Argent and Deaton, we'll be able to fix it. Okay? Look at me! It's gunna be alright."

Stiles leans into the touch, closing his eyes for a moment, just enjoying the touch, his fingers, still stained with black, came to rest on Isaac's shoulders, squeezing.

"You don't--you don't know that." Opening his eyes, he caught the other werewolf's, his voice soft, unsure. "You have to acknowledge that. I need to--I need to know that you know it might not end up okay."

Leaning forward, Isaac pressed a kiss to Stiles' forehead, fingers never ceasing in the movements of stroking through his hair. He's always liked it buzzed the way he used to wear it, but there was no denying that the Beta loved his mate's hair with a little more length to it.

He was shaking his head before Stiles even finished his sentence, eyes falling closed to further assist in his denial. He wasn't ready to admit that they might not have been able to fix it, that Stiles could die. He needed to be strong and he was stronger in denial. "I can't."

Stiles let out a shuttered breath, bringing a hand up to cover his mouth as he coughed again, the sound wet and heavy, knowing that there was black hitting his fingers once more. Leaning into Isaac more heavily, he pulled his hand away, speaking softly, tired.

"Okay, okay. I'm here at least though, right? Feeling better with you here." He was, even if he didn't look it.

When the coughing fit passed, Isaac used the cloth he'd brought in with him before to wipe the black from Stiles' hand and lips, before leaning forward to drop a kiss to his forehead. "I'm not going anywhere." The hand in his hair stopped moving and the veins in Isaac's arm turned black as he attempted to pull some of the pain away from his mate.

He's breathing hard, but he nuzzles against Isaac's face, not really wanting the other werewolf to kiss him, not wanting to taste the black on his lips.

"Isaac--don't." Stiles growled slightly, but he didn't have enough energy to really fight it, not when the lessening of pain felt better.

"Stiles, shut up." Despite his words, his tone is light. Stiles had never liked when Isaac did this, just like Isaac didn't like when Stiles did. But it happened regardless, because neither could stand to see the other one hurt. "I need to help."

"...you are helping." Stiles sighed, closing his eyes. "A good snuggle might help, too." Even if it didn't, he just wanted to feel Isaac under his hands, his fingers, pressed against his chest. "Can't promise I won't puke on you, though."

"I can deal with a little black vomit." Isaac offered a small smile then, moving to carefully maneuver his mate so he could lie in front of him on the couch, Stiles' head cradled on his arm and their legs tangled together. "Better?"

Stiles sighed and curled into Isaac, pressing his face into the other man's chest, breathing his scent in, ridding the acrid smell of his own sick from his system. This was home. He might not have it for much longer, but it gave him hope that they might be able to find a solution.

"Yeah, the best."

Wrapping his other arm around his mate, Isaac pulled Stiles closer, tucking his nose into his hair and breathing him in, finding the smell of mate under the smell of... He didn't let himself think it the rest, refusing to admit it yet. "Good."

"Mmm..." He coughed again, trying his best to stifle it, not wanting to cough up on Isaac if he could avoid it. "You...things been going okay, this week?" He just wanted to talk about mundane things until the others arrived, just wanting to pretend that it's normal, somehow.

"Here." He gently pressed the cloth against Stiles' lips, wiping gently. "Use this." Stroking a hand down his back, Isaac thought for a moment. "It's been okay. I kicked Jackson's ass again. He didn't take it well. But he makes all the rookie moves we used to make." And yeah, Isaac may not be as in control and experienced as Scott seemed to be, but Jackson was too cocky for his own good.

"How's school been? Other kids keeping up?"

"Thanks." Stiles rolled his eyes slightly, coughing into the cloth before pressing his face against Isaac's chest, listening. "He's too confident. It's gonna get him killed sometime. I'm glad you're doing good, though." Letting out a breath, he murmured into the other werewolf's shirt, knowing he could be understood, anyways.

"Yeah. I've been enjoying it. Been learning a lot in my folklore classes...wanted to borrow some books from Derek's library, maybe." He started coughing again, keeping his mouth covered as he curled into Isaac. "Maybe while I'm healing up, I can just read, right?"

Isaac pressed a kiss against Stiles' hair, rolling them gently so he was more underneath the other male, arms wrapping around him and holding him close. "Derek's trying to teach him new ways but... he doesn't want to hear it. Doesn't like being told he's wrong."

He smiles. "I'm sure he'd let you. He's got more real information in there, you'll be top of your class." As if he wasn't already. "Sounds like a plan. May as well put these sick days to use, hey?"

"Of course he doesn't like to hear it. Still don't get why Derek turned him." Stiles snorted, tangling his legs with Isaac. Everything in his head felt like it was buzzing, and he wanted nothing more than to stay curled up like this forever, forget the outside world for a while.

"Mmm...extra credit..." He half laughed, half coughed, his body shuddering, twitching. Everything in him told him that this was going to be the end--that he really should make arrangements; but wrapped up in Isaac, he wanted to ignore that, for a while. "How is work going, though? Deaton giving you all the information?"

"I think... I think part of Derek hoped he wouldn't survive the change." Not that Derek was a killer, but it was a good way to get what he wanted while getting the boy off his case. Seemed logical.

"Like you need any more of that." Isaac just held him closer, making sure not to tighten his grip too much so as to hurt him, but enough to keep him close. "He thinks I'm picking things up quicker than I feel like I am. But... yeah."

I'll be missing you

Isaac Lahey || Teen Wolf || OTA

2-3-1 if thats okay? I'll change if not.

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