A couple of notices this time for you guys:
Just like everything else I write, this is way long. 8500 words.
But I'm just going to say, don't let that deter you from reading it. This is my official entry for the "make VGCG cry" contest, the first attempt being "What Would I Do Without You?". I cried like a BABY writing that and sporadically writing this, so IMO, its pretty sad. This is also for GS, but if this depresses the hell out of her I promised her I'd write something else.
Also, this story is slight DerekxAngie, though its only for a little bit (for those of you that hate them together) - there's another focus at hand.
After like, 5 straight days of work, 26 pages in word, and a hell of a lot of profanity (srsly, lol), the most meaningful story I've written to date is complete. I'll have to reread it, but I think its my favorite to date.
Hope this makes you cry VG! (I STILL FEEL AWFUL SAYING THAT) Make sure to think of like, sad stuff before reading it, and maybe that'll do the trick :D
I'm a terrible person, lol.
Enjoy.
He was waiting for her downstairs.
He never waited for her downstairs...
----------
"Angie... are you there?"
Angie rolled over in bed and looked at the clock through her blurred, tired vision. The green numbers read 2:02 in the morning, meaning she had only been sleeping for an hour and a half.
"Uh… yeah… I'm here." she mumbled, rubbing her face.
"Ang I hate to have to tell you this, but Sidney told me to tell you to come back – we need you here."
"Derek…" she whined, feeling like she was going to cry just a bit. "Tell Sidney that another nurse needs to come in – I was there for almost an entire day today…"
This plead was met with silence on the other end as Derek searched for what to say.
"I know you're tired, I know... but we need you to come up here – it's important."
With a huff Angie rolled over onto her stomach and scrunched her face up tightly, a small whine escaping her.
"Do you need me to come get you?" he asked like the gentleman he was, but a very tired and annoyed Angie was having no part of manners that evening.
"No – I'm fine. And tell Sidney I had better get a raise for this…"
Derek didn't get in another word as Angie clicked her phone shut, angrily rolling out of bed and stomping over to her closet.
----------
"Angie, we're going to be late..."
"I don't care Derek... I don't care – please, just leave me here."
Curled up in his bed the blonde refused to move, to get up and going with what was a very important day. Knowing she would regret what she was going to miss, Derek walked towards his bed and lifted her into his arms amidst her hits, kicks and sobs.
"Put me DOWN! I don't want to get up – please Derek... please don't make me!"
Derek just sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling Angie into his lap as she began coming apart at the seams – crumbling into nothing more than someone who needed comfort and love.
Thankfully for her, Derek could offer her nothing more than just that. And as she continued to yell to be set free, he held her still, knowing that to be held was what she really needed.
----------
With fire in her eyes and her jaw in a deadlock Angie stormed through the front doors of Caduceus, ready to do some serious yelling until she saw him standing there.
Her expression instantly morphed from a death glare to one of extreme confusion.
He never waited for her downstairs.
Never.
Even though she had worked an eighteen hour shift only to be woken up two hours later to come back, Angie had never woken up as fast as she did at that moment.
Seeing that the sparkle had faded out of Derek's eyes was the only tell she needed – something was very wrong. She knew just by looking at his face.
Standing completely frozen in place, Angie waited for him to tell her what was going on. If she wasn't there to work, then why?
"Derek." she said firmly, feeling herself pace towards him very slowly. He was fidgeting with his hands, looking down at them instead of her. The brunette only raised his sad eyes up to look at her when she arrived right in front of him and forced his chin upward.
Derek broke free of her grasp but the sad seriousness of his expression stayed put.
"Angie… something's happened."
Though it was confirmed by his words, Angie knew it way before he had even opened his mouth.
Something was very wrong.
----------
Anger turned back into sobs which rocked her whole body, now seated next to Derek on the edge of the bed. He held her momentarily and then knelt down in front of her, brushing the fallen tears from her cheeks.
"I can't go Derek – I can't!"
"Angie, listen to me... you can do this. I'm not going to leave your side – we're going to do this together."
Green eyes turned up toward him, seeing that his expression was loving, yet serious.
With a nod Angie held out her hand and Derek grabbed it, hooking his arm underneath hers and helping her to her feet.
"I'm fine..." she said, feeling him release her.
She had tried to walk to the bathroom to ready herself, but what little strength she hadn't cried out inevitably failed her, sending her crashing back to the floor into a heap of sobs.
And just like every time she fell, literally or figuratively, Derek was there to catch her.
----------
"Derek… Derek please, you're scaring me."
Derek Stiles looked his nurse in her worried green eyes and raked his hand through his signature shaggy hairstyle with a sympathetic sigh.
"Angie…" he said gently, taking her hand. They both were too wrapped in the moment to give a second thought to the intimate gesture, mainly focused on the big picture.
"…it's your dad." he eventually blurted out, so softly she almost didn't hear him.
Her eyes shot open a mile wide and her free hand flew up to her face, cupping her mouth.
"What do you mean, Derek?" she asked firmly, expression still of shock. When he gave her no answer, she pressed harder.
"Derek, what are you talking about?!"
Angie's voice began raising in volume with her every spoken word.
"Angie, calm down…" he pleaded, but was cut off.
"No!" she shot back fiercely. "Not until you tell me what's going on! Spit it out!"
"Heart Failure, Angie…" Derek blurted out, squeezing her hand gently right before she nearly ripped it from his hold to cover her face with. "Severe congestive heart failure…"
Angie bided her time momentarily, eventually dropping her hands from her face, revealing that stubborn side of her that tried to hide every weakness, every emotion. She looked down and to the side instead of up at her doctor, whose gaze never strayed from her as she took it all in.
"Is he… alive?"
"Yes – but he's not doing well at all… we're running some tests right now."
Angie looked up at Derek with tears in her eyes, desperate to gain some self control.
"Can I… see him?" she whispered, receiving a gentle nod from Derek.
"He's in ICU – I'll take you there right now." he said with a barely noticeable smirk – she wasn't paying much attention to him anyway.
But instead, Derek was left watching her blonde hair fan out behind her as she briskly walked down the hall and to the elevator.
All he could do was follow her with a heavy heart.
----------
"What's wrong Ang...? Why aren't you getting dressed?"
Derek paced back into his bedroom where Angie was seated on the bed, staring idly out the window at the overcast skies, rain pouring all over Angeles Bay.
He wondered if she had even heard him, but shortly after she turned herself to look at him, eyes unimaginably tired and lifeless.
"...I literally have no strength, Derek. I can't even move my arms to pull this into my lap."
Derek looked at the black dress lying on the edge of the bed to her left and scratched the back of his head as he paced towards her.
"I don't know Angie – did you want me to call Leslie or somet—"
"No, Derek..." she said gently. "If you don't mind – can you help me? ...please?"
Derek felt his face heat up instantly under her request, but he walked to where she was seated and looked at her with a soft nod.
"Help me lift my arms?"
With a big, silent breath in, Derek took Angie's hands in his own and lifted them straight over her head. He faltered slightly when he let go of them, positioning his own hands at the base of the sweatshirt of his that she was wearing. With another deep breath he pulled the covering up and over her head, careful not to look at anything he wasn't supposed to. Though, the more he thought about it, this wasn't a dirty moment in the least – it was something so sweet, sad, yet tender all at the same time.
He dropped the shirt on the floor next to him and looked in her eyes, which were staring back at him. She stuck her legs out and he pulled off her sweatpants, tossing them next to where the discarded sweater laid. Still looking at her he reached over and grabbed the dress in his hands, turning it around until it was positioned the right way and slid it over her head, helping her arms through the armholes. He bent down and pulled her closer to him, helping her stand up as he pulled the dress down until it fit properly, and then lowered her back down onto the bed.
She watched him closely as he grabbed the button up sweater that was on the bed, sliding it on one of her arms and then the other. And just when he began buttoning the little black buttons on it, his attention was shifted as his face was pulled forward and his lips connected with hers gently. Hands abandoned the sweater after a moment and rested gently on her face until she pulled back and smiled the tiniest of smiles.
"Thank you, Derek..."
----------
All of Caduceus's best were on this case – all had either woken up in the middle of the night or changed their existing workload to accompany Kenneth Blackwell, determined to make sure he survived whatever was doing this to him.
All the chatter about how things were going downstairs ceased immediately as Derek and Angie stepped off the elevator. Without a word she turned to Derek and he motioned towards the right room. She kept her eyes forward, determined not to make eye contact with any of her co-workers, anyone that had been with her through the whole ordeal because that made it too real. Like it was actually happening – which she had convinced herself, it wasn't.
Angie visibly tensed under the stare of those around her until Derek waved them off, letting her approach the room at her own pace, at her own will.
She placed a hand on the cold metal handle, closing her eyes. As a nurse she had been in and out of this room hundreds of times, ready to tackle whatever met her on the other side.
But as his daughter…
----------
"Where are you going?"
Ken's wife looked on at him as he pulled several suitcases down the stairs, leaving them at the front door. He pushed past her uncomfortably, refusing eye contact as he walked into the kitchen and grabbed his wallet and keys.
"I've uh, got to go on a last-minute trip for work..."
"To where?! KEN?!"
He continued to ignore her cries as he carried two of the three suitcases out the door. Angie, having heard them talking, came into the front room and grabbed the last suitcase, ignoring her mother's protests for her to stay inside. Holding a bag almost as big as herself, Angie walked uncomfortably but quickly out to the car and met her father at the trunk, trying with all her might to get the bag into the car. He took the bag from her hastily and threw it in the back, slamming the trunk and looking at his only child with a cold, sad stare.
"Angie, go in the house. I have to go now."
"But, when are you going to be back!? Do I get a goodbye hug?"
"Angie." he said again firmly, voice with a slight quiver. "GO in the house..."
The young girl was slightly taken aback by the sternness of her father's usually docile voice, and she didn't hesitate in running inside and closing the door.
Angie didn't understand why her mother was crying in the kitchen at that very moment, but as she watched her father's car pull out of the driveway and down the street wondering when he would come back, she had no idea that in fact, he wasn't coming back.
But that didn't stop her from looking out that window every day, hope breaking off little by little until that devastated young girl's belief in the world was shattered.
----------
There was beeping. Monotonous and somewhat slow, but there was beeping.
A gentle whooshing noise accompanied the beeping, signifying that although not on his own, he was breathing. Breathing in, breathing out, breathing oxygen – breathing.
Angie surveyed the monitors attached to her father, making sure that she took her time before actually looking at him. The numbers on the machines were nothing but gibberish to her – they meant as much to her right then as an ordinary person who was reading them.
As the door clicked shut behind her Angie finally let her sights gaze down upon him – her fallen angel… her daddy.
She stood stone at the foot of the bed, no one single emotion standing out from the sea of feelings pumping through her veins. One hand delicately rested on the lump formed by his feet underneath the blankets and the other hand's trembling fingers rested on her lips.
Angie stared down at the man in the bed - the man everyone was telling her was her father.
They could tell her that all they wanted. She knew better – this man wasn't her father.
Her father, Kenneth Blackwell, was a fighter. He wasn't someone who would need help breathing, help having his heart beat every beat it did. He was strong – just like the daughter he had raised.
His complexion was a ghastly white – breathing tubes obscured his face, but what little she could see was completely drained of life. His hair was matted against the side of his face, uncombed and straggly.
This wasn't him. This man couldn't be Angie's father..
Emerald eyes scanned the room frantically, looking for something to back up these claims. They caught a chart, a hospital bracelet, and several monitors – all of which flashed that name. The name of her father, Kenneth Blackwell. Her heart leapt into her throat, panic settling in – his name was everywhere she looked, every turn of her head it was plastered somewhere else.
Tears stung at Angie's eyes, her pride holding them in just like every other time. There was no reason to cry, to lose it over this: this just looked serious, nothing was really wrong. Not with this man, not with her father.
"Angie?"
Composing herself quickly, Angie remained calm, still staring over her father's near lifeless body as Derek entered the room behind her.
"Are you alright Ang?"
----------
"What are you doing sweetheart?"
A young Angie Thompson sat at her kitchen table with her crayons and paper spread out everywhere, head popping up quickly as her father entered the room.
"I can't tell you – it's a surprise!" she giggled, blonde pigtails bouncing with every chuckle that let loose.
"Well, can I color with you?" Ken asked with a smile, taking a seat.
"Sure, daddy!" she chirped. "And you can even have my favorite crayon!!"
She stretched her hand out toward him, offering her bubble gum pink crayon. He smiled and took it, beginning to color a picture of his own. A small while later Angie looked up, trying to crane her neck to see what he was doing.
Seeing this, Ken curled his arm around the piece of paper and pulled it towards himself, giving his daughter a mischievous grin in the process.
"No looking – it's a surprise..." he said with a laugh.
Angie bit her lip in contemplation, finally deciding to act. She threw herself forward and pulled the paper out from under her father's arm, giggling out of control.
"Hey!" he said, stealing her picture to look at in retaliation.
Funny thing was, they had both drawn the exact same thing – the two of them standing together holding hands.
"Dad!" Angie exclaimed. "You spelled my name wrong!"
She pointed to the picture. Over his head he had written "Dad", and over hers, "Ang".
"You spelled it wrong – you left out some letters!" she pointed out again.
"Well, maybe I would've spelled it right if you didn't steal it from me before I was done!" he said, beginning to tickle furiously at her sides.
"Dad! Dad!! Hahaha! Don't – Haha! Daaaaad!"
Ken let up quickly, flipping one of his daughters straight blonde pigtails instead with a smile.
"Hey dad?"
"Yes honey?"
"How do you say how you spelled my name in the picture?"
Ken smiled.
"You say it like, "Anj", honey."
Angie smiled brightly.
"Can that be your special name for me?"
Ken pulled his daughter into his lap and hugged her tightly.
"Of course – it'll be our special secret... Ang."
----------
Receiving no answer, Derek took another step forward.
"Ang?"
Angie felt him place his hand on her shoulder, which she quickly sank down and away from, now at the left side of her father's bed. She could see him more clearly now, the sight shaking her from the inside out.
With a still trembling hand, Angie pulled the chair in the corner next to the bed, slowly sinking down into it, her eyes never leaving the bed.
"…What's happening to him, Derek?" she whispered, still refusing to look at anything but her father.
Derek walked to the opposite side of the bed from Angie, resting one hand on his hip and the other on the back of his neck.
"We've done some preliminary tests already - Victor thinks that its GUILT related…"
Angie snapped her gaze up to Derek, her eyes nearly completely bloodshot. "You mean he's got GUILT? Again?!"
"Nonono, Angie… as in like, the aftereffects of it."
Angie held her gaze with Derek for a short while, then returned it to her father.
"Well, doesn't that mean Dr. Hoffman is at risk too?" she asked.
Derek let out a small relieved sigh – regarding others, Angie was always on the ball, no matter what the situation.
"He's being tested at the same time we're testing your father to cross-examine the results, but so far your father's condition is much worse…"
"Why?" she asked in the guise of a four year old pressing for answers.
Derek stalled momentarily, knowing she was delicate at this moment and this needed to be delivered the perfect way.
"Remember after he regained consciousness, we talked with him about how long the Savato had been inside him? Remember how much more torn up he already was when we opened him up?"
Angie said nothing, she just reached up and smoothed Ken's hair as Derek continued.
"…Well, even though Dr. Hoffman had the mutated strain, your father had it in him for days – when we found him he was almost…"
He stopped himself.
"The amount of sutures we had to put into fix Savato's damage were astronomical – I'm sure you remember."
No response.
"His heart is very badly inflamed – the prison brought him here still conscious but complaining of chest pain, and it spiraled out of control from there Angie… We're doing everything we can to save him. We will save him."
Angie raised her head up to look at him. "Promise?"
Derek swallowed hard, knowing that he was sugarcoating how bad this really was…
But from the look in her eyes, he could tell that at that moment, she really needed that promise.
"I promise."
"Can I…" she started, turning away from him again. "Can I have, some time alone?"
---------
"...nobody ever had a bad thing to say about my father..."
Angie's words rang in Derek's mind as he watched masses of people pour through the gates from his place next to her in two little white chairs in front of a gaping six foot hole. As everyone seated themselves and the priest stepped forward, Angie instinctively grabbed Derek's hand and squeezed gently, looking forward even as he felt her look at him.
"We are here to celebrate the life of Kenneth Blackwell. Father, husband, professor, and one of the most brilliant scientific minds of our time."
Angie watched as the priest paused uncomfortably, flipping the pages in his bible. He read a short verse and then a longer one, then paused again.
"Kenneth was a... good, man..." he said unconvincingly, looking just a bit nervous. "He was very smart... uh, did a lot of work for the scientific community. He especially... um..."
"Just STOP!"
Shocked cries came from everyone in attendance as Angie rose to her feet.
"What do you want to say? That he was a monster? A murderer? That he was a lowlife deadbeat dad?! Go ahead! SAY IT!" she yelled.
The priest shifted uncomfortably but eventually moved aside as Angie walked up toward the podium.
"Maybe you should've done your research before you started talking here..." she bit at the man, watching him become visibly more uncomfortable. "You can't even find a damn nice thing to say about the man that didn't have to do with science. He was a great father to me, until he abandoned my mom and me when I was 8. He was a brilliant professor, until he joined Delphi and used his research to make a disease that could've killed millions of people if it wasn't for that man right there..." she said, pointing to Derek who shrank down in his seat a bit.
Murmurs ran through the crowd as she continued to speak.
"He sacrificed his whole life and his career to save my life from being a test subject for the very disease that he helped create. And though I never knew that until Dr. Stiles and I found him and he saved his life, how many of you can say that you've made that kind of sacrifice?"
The crowd sat quietly, watching as she stepped out from behind the podium and sent a positively evil glare back at the priest.
"Go ahead, talk more about his science and then throw him in the hole. It's obvious to see I'm the only one that gave a damn about him anyway." she snapped as she burst into tears, walking down the aisle between the chairs and away from the joke of a memorial.
Derek stayed in his seat as everyone murmured things about Angie's outburst. He took a deep breath and stood up, walking down the aisle to find her.
A short walk later he found her on a bench just in front of the fence of the cemetery, crying into her hands. He stopped next to the bench and watched her for a minute.
"They didn't know him, Derek... nobody did."
"I know Angie..." he said, sitting down next to her and wrapping his arm around her shoulders, pulling her closer to him as he kissed the top of her head. "You were right though – even though he did some pretty awful things, I admire someone who would make that kind of sacrifice to save their child."
Angie sobbed a few times, sitting up under her own will a short time later and looking out over the cemetery.
"The last words I said to him in the hospital were nice... I somehow knew in my heart he wasn't going to make it..."
She paused, heaving a sigh.
"But I just wish that the last time he opened his eyes, he would've been able to say something to me... I just wanted to hear from him one last time."
This struck Derek as the right moment to do it.
He reached his hand into his right pocket and pulled out a folded piece of paper, watching Angie look at it and then up at him with confusion.
"I tried to wait for a good time..." he said gently. "But this is for you."
----------
"How's Angie holding up?"
Derek turned around immediately upon hearing Dr. Clarks speak, his body language saying all that could be said. The elder surgeon just nodded, sticking his hands gently in his pockets.
"She's holding it together. How? I have no idea…" Derek said, walking around a corner and taking a seat on a bench in the hallway. It was so hard for him to watch her hurt like this – mostly because it was a pain he knew all too well.
Reaching for his back pocket Derek grabbed his wallet and pulled out a very old picture of him and his father, shaking the hair out of his eyes to be able to see it more clearly. He smiled a heartbroken smile as a thumb traced over the photograph, deciding after a short while to put it away.
Losing a father was an unbearable pain, whether you were close to them or not. And at that very moment, Derek promised himself that he would do everything to save Angie from that hurt.
Derek had now left Angie alone for a good hour, taking a trip back to his office in the meantime. When he came back around to check on her, Leslie, Dr. Clarks, and Tyler were all standing outside of the door to her father's room looking inside until they saw him walk around the corner.
"What are you guys doing?" he whispered harshly. "Let her be!"
Shamefully the three looked away and moved from the door.
"We're sorry Derek – its just, so sad…" Tyler said, motioning towards the window.
Curious to see what he was talking about Derek stepped towards the window to the room and peered in, the sight nearly breaking his heart.
The clock now read 3:49 on the table next to the bed, the lamp on the table the only source of light. Angie's hand was grasping her father's tightly and resting on the bed right above her head, which was situated next to his leg, her eyes closed but expression still pained looking. She looked positively worn out, streams of mascara staining her face from where tears had carried the black matter down her cheeks.
Derek heaved a sad sigh and walked over to the nurses station, pulling a blanket out of the warmer and back to the room. He gently let himself in and unfolded it just a bit, draping it around Angie as she slept.
Standing still for a moment Derek gently reached forward and brushed her hair from her face before he walked in the corner and sat in a vacant rocking chair, waiting for her in case she needed him.
----------
"I, never thought my father could be involved in something like this... was all my hard work for nothing?"
Derek just looked on at her as tears pooled in her eyes, desperate to keep them in.
"I'm sorry, Derek… I'll be fine tomorrow. But, for right now… I can't help it... I'm so sorry…"
"Angie..." he cooed gently, walking towards her and hesitantly wrapping his arms around her waist, lifting her gently off of the ground and into his arms. She fought him momentarily but eventually allowed herself to relax in his hold.
"We'll figure everything out, okay? I promise you'll get all the answers you need..."
"Ugh.." she scoffed.
Derek set her back on her feet and she looked at him with a slight blush on her cheeks, but with anger in her eyes.
"I want to know, but then again I don't. Hell, for all I care, I hope he's dead by the time we get there.
"Angie, don't say that…"
Angie looked up at him with a fiery glare as she started to walk backwards.
"You don't understand Derek." she bit, turning on her heel. "I'm going home. See you tomorrow."
As Derek watched her walk away, he knew that someday, she would regret saying that.
----------
"Psst… Stiles!"
Derek snapped awake to find that he had dozed off in that chair in the Professor's room, noticing quickly that Victor was barking at him from the door. He rose to his feet and walked outside where the researcher was waiting for him.
"The results came back from the Cardiolytes Test." Victor said, thrusting a set of pictures towards him.
Derek looked them over, a small smile trickling onto his face.
"This looks great – the blood flow looks completely normal and there doesn't seem to be any structural damage to any of the valves or chambers at all!"
"Stiles." Victor snapped, thrusting another set of pictures his way.
Derek looked at these as well, the smile dropping right off his face. Blood was barely even flowing to the left side of the heart, the valves so damaged that they weren't even any good anymore. The heart itself was badly inflamed, little lines in it showing where all the stitches had been placed when they had fought with the first Savato not even two years ago.
"The first set of pictures is Dr. Hoffman's – he's perfectly fine. But the second set…"
"Are the professor's." Derek said, finishing Victor's sentence.
"Dr. Stiles…"
Derek turned to see Dr. Clarks standing nearby, scratching the back of his head with a nervous expression.
"We just got off the phone with the AHA – unfortunately enough they don't have any emergency transplants available."
Derek had only felt his stomach knot itself like it did just then once in his life before.
----------
"I'm sorry kid – no doctor in the world could save your father from this..."
The reply a young Derek Stiles got when he pleaded with the doctors to save his father stopped him in his tracks. What were they saying?
"Mom...?" he asked, watching his mother pour out a generous amount of tears at his father's bedside. Her hand gripped his and even though he was unconscious at the moment, his hand still held hers back.
"Yes, Derek?"
"What are they saying? When is dad going to come home?"
"Come here honey..."
Elizabeth Stiles pulled her young son into her lap, still holding onto his father's hand.
"It means daddy isn't coming home Derek – he's very sick and he's going to stay at the hospital."
Years later, Derek would still remember just how his stomach twisted and turned into knots at those words.
"You mean, he's never going to come home? He's never going to play with me or take me to school again?"
Elizabeth wiped the tears from her face as she shook her head to his question. Her hand reached up shortly after and dried Derek's tears as her only child hugged into her tightly and cried.
----------
"So what are you saying?"
Derek's question made Dr. Clarks look at him confusedly.
"Derek – you should already know what this means."
Derek closed his eyes and hung his head, taking a deep breath.
"I promised her, Stephen. I can't let her down – I can't let this happen. There's got to be something…" he said, raising his head up to see Dr. Clarks sadly shake his head.
Derek's eyes closed themselves again. Hands on his hips he shook his head slowly, trying to figure out how it would be possible to muster up enough strength to tell Angie.
"How long?"
"When we talked to the AHA we had to give them the diagnostic results – they're surprised he's even alive right now."
Derek stayed silent at the news, biting his lip.
"…Great. Just… great. God DAMMIT!"
Leslie shrieked quietly and Tyler and Dr. Clarks jumped back as Derek's foot met the underside of a chair, sending it flying into the wall as he stormed away from them.
Derek forced himself to calm down before entering the room when he noticed that Angie was awake, knowing that she'd pick up the expression on his face from a mile away. He watched as she talked…
"Wait..."
On a second glance, he noticed that Ken was awake, looking at his daughter with whatever life was left in his eyes. Due to the breathing tubes he couldn't talk to her, only listen to what she had to say, which Derek could not tell for the fact that he wasn't in the room.
He watched her crack a small smile, wiping a fallen tear off of her cheek as she looked at her father. Though she had grown up knowing nothing but hatred for him, Derek could sense in her body language and the hopeful forced smile on her face how desperate she was to see him survive this.
A sadness lanced through Derek when he realized that those was probably the last words Angie would ever speak to her father. He couldn't tell her that – couldn't let the last memories she had with him be tainted with her knowing the outcome.
Derek then shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling a folded piece of paper.
----------
"Stiles – we need you down here immediately!"
The call over Derek's headset rocketed him out of his chair, and in an instant he was flying down three flights of stairs to the bottom floor to find armed guards standing all around a stretcher with a man on it.
"What's going on?" he exclaimed, pushing past the guards to see his patient.
"Oh God..."
"Derek..."
The weak voice calling out to him belonged to Angie's father – Kenneth Blackwell. He was clutching at his chest tightly, his face contorted into a look of unimaginable pain.
The sight froze Derek in place and grasping for something, anything to say. They had brought him here from prison, certainly… but why?
Brown eyes searched the professor's for an answer, but the man was unable to speak. Though just looking at his scared expression, Derek knew they didn't have much time.
"Come on Professor..." he said, grabbing at the side of the stretcher closest to him and helping Sidney run it down the hallway towards the OR.
In a flash they had sedation pumping into him, but it seemingly did nothing to calm the thunderous pain that was overtaking him. He looked at Derek with a pleading gaze, biting his lip so hard it nearly produced blood.
"Increase the sedative Leslie, it's not doing anything!" Derek exclaimed.
"Yes, Dr. Stiles!" she replied, shoving a syringe into the connective tubing of his IV. Within minutes the professor's painful expression began to fade, his body visibly succumbing to the medication.
At his bedside, Derek checked the monitors one last time before he went to leave, but was stopped by a firm hand grabbing his arm and whirling him around. The grip belonged to Ken, and Derek was released once he was paying attention. The professor beckoned for him to come closer, trying to speed things along before he lost consciousness.
"Derek, you and I both… know, I'm not... going to ma—"
He stopped and let out a loud cough.
"…make it."
Derek's expression stayed stone. "Don't say that – I got you through Savato, and I'll get you through this."
"No Derek – I'm nearing the end of my time. This is the ultimate atonement for my sins, but there is something... more important at hand." he whispered, reaching slowly into his shirt pocket with what little strength he had left.
He held out a white, folded piece of paper to Derek, who looked at him questioningly before taking it.
"This... is for Angie. It is my l-last words to her..."
"No it won't be. You're going to be fine." Derek fought adamantly.
"In case I die Derek, please give this to her. If not then you can throw it away... but if I do... please."
Derek looked at the piece of paper and then took it, sticking it in his pants pocket.
"I will. I promise." he said, sending a smirk the professor's way before he turned to leave.
"Derek..."
Derek turned around at the faint whisper and approached Ken's bedside again.
"If something does happen to me – please take care of my little girl."
Derek bit his lip, the professor's plead striking a chord in his heart for some reason.
"I see the way she looks at you, and you at her... it's quite obvious you two care deeply about each other. And... if you wish someday, you have my absolute blessing to marry her."
Derek turned pink in the cheeks – everything he was saying was nothing that Derek hadn't thought of before.
"I care about Angie more than anything – and one day if I do end up with her, I'll ask your permission in person. But whether I marry her or not, and whether you're here or not, I promise you that I'll watch out for her..."
Ken smiled. "Thank you for everything, Derek..." he said, choking on the last of his words just as the choking began to worsen.
"Ken?!" Derek exclaimed, checking the monitors as his oxygen numbers started downward in a freefall. Derek reached over and nearly punched the emergency call button, and in seconds Leslie was in the room.
"Get a breathing tube immediately! We're losing him!"
Little did Derek know, he was the sole person who had witnessed Kenneth Blackwell's last words.
----------
Snapping him out of his daydream was something Derek had never wanted to see.
"Dad...?! DAD!"
As Derek looked up to see what was going on, he watched Ken's eyes close themselves and his head drop to the side lifelessly. Angie, still gripping onto his hand, was on her feet in a second, yelling for him to wake up, tears beginning to spill down her face as she looked at the screaming monitors helplessly.
In a flash Derek busted into the room followed quickly by Dr. Clarks, Tyler, Dr. Hoffman, and Leslie. The four immediately rushed to the Professor's side and Dr. Hoffman motioned to Derek who pulled a hysterical Angie out of the room against her will.
"Derek! Derek NO – Let GO of me! Pl-Please… let. me. go!"
Eventually she gave in and let Derek half-walk and half-carry her down the hall just a bit, away from where she could see what was going on. She cried helplessly into her hands, and Derek wasn't sure what to do besides gently rub her back, all the while giving her as much space as possible.
After a few seconds of quiet Angie sprang to her feet and before Derek could grab her, she burst back into her father's room, staring at four of the closest people to her as they continued working on her father.
And at just that moment, the beeping – the monotonous yet comforting beeping that had kept Angie together – melded into a constant tone: a flat line.
"No…" she whispered, feeling Derek rush into the room right behind her and stop at the sight, everyone standing around Ken's body just looking on at Angie sadly. She lifted her gaze from her father to the four with anger.
"What are you just standing there for! DO SOMETHING! He's DYING!"
All four remained rooted in their position, looking away from her as she continued to scream. Derek placed a hand on her arm but she fought it off, stepping towards her coworkers angrily.
The high pitched continuous beep served as the background noise for her screams and pleads, driving her more and more crazy for every second that it continued.
"Why… why, aren't you helping him?! WHY!? SAVE HIM!"
Everyone remained silent and still.
"You have to do something – he can't die like this! You can't let this happen! PLEASE!"
Through tear-filled eyes Angie watched as Dr. Hoffman turned his head over to the clock and spoke.
"Please… He's my…"
"Time of death…"
"Don't say it… PLEASE… pl-please don't say it… he's my…"
"…4:36 a.m."
"…dad."
A harsh silence filled the air as Leslie switched off the monitor, putting an end to the screeching noise but solidifying the fact that he was gone.
"No… NO!!!" Angie screamed loudly, causing everyone in the room to tear up as she lost it right before their eyes.
Turning on her heel she ran from the room, producing a jump from everyone when she threw the door open and it slammed against the hallway wall. Derek was after her in a split second, following her down a nearby deserted hallway as she looked around confusedly, crying harder than he had ever seen her cry before, hand on her forehead and the other on her hip.
"I just… I don't…" she stuttered in between sobs, looking all around her as she began to hyperventilate.
"How c-could this… they d-didn't even try to…"
Suddenly Angie's sad gaze turned angry as she looked at Derek, her green eyes ablaze.
"You… You PROMISED!"
Angie placed both hands on either side of Derek's pecs, throwing all of her weight into shoving him back against the wall. He hit with a bang, and the recoil pushed her body back into the opposite wall, which she stared at him angrily from.
Never in his life did Derek feel as bad and as guilty as he did right in that moment – so much so that he felt his eyes well up with tears: he had lied to her… and more importantly, he had failed to protect her from the greatest pain she would ever know. He stood idly against the wall looking up at her sadly, defeat in his eyes.
She dropped her angry stare in favor of more heart wrenching cries. Sniffling and sobbing she took a step forward, and Derek watched as the last of her strength failed her, sending her falling towards the ground. He pitched forward and caught her in his arms, cradling her against himself.
"No…!" she cried, beating her fists against him, her lack of strength keeping it from hurting him at all. He sat cross legged in the middle of the hallway, holding his devastated nurse tightly as she tried her best to break free.
"Don't touch me… don't… Derek, ple-ease…"
Her yells lost volume quickly, now just words in his ear as he continued to gently rock back and forth, one hand holding her head as it was buried in his chest, and the other wrapped around her back. He rested his head against the top of hers, waiting for her cries to cease – waiting for her to stop yelling, when just then, it became quiet.
Derek felt her arms reach up and hold gently onto both sides of his neck, her fingers wrapping around to the back of it and gripping tightly as she began another round of painful sobs.
"Don't leave me Derek… please, don't leave me…"
Though barely a whisper, Derek had heard her loud and clear.
"I won't Angie – I promise you I'm here for you…"
Unlike the promise he had broken, Derek knew for a fact this one was one he would see through to the bitter end.
----------
Still staring at him confusedly, Angie took the small folded paper out of Derek's hand and pulled it into her lap, turning it over and over with her fingers. She raised her head up and looked out over the cemetery – those in attendance for her father's burial were now leaving... thankfully she was far enough away and out of sight where she didn't have to deal with explaining herself or her outburst at his service.
"Did you want to me to give you some time alone?" Derek asked quietly, brushing a chunk of her hair behind her ear when the wind blew it in her face.
Angie took a breath and then handed the letter back to him, moving her body closer to him until he instinctively wrapped his arm around her shoulders and hugged her tightly to him.
"Quite the opposite." she said, craning her neck to look up at him. "I want you to read it to me."
Derek gulped. "Are you sure Ang? This is from your father to you – it's really none of my business."
"If it wasn't for you, this letter wouldn't exist. I would've never gotten to know the truth about my father – you saving him was what allowed my life to have closure... to allow me to close those painful chapters."
She looked up at him again. "This is absolutely your business. Our business. I can't read it – I need you to... please."
He smiled softly at her, showing no teeth. "Okay Angie."
As he unfolded the letter Angie gripped onto him tightly, resting her head in the space between his neck and his shoulder.
Derek saw quite a bit of writing, skimming it over. He gulped when he noticed that his name was in there, but traced back up to the beginning and started to read.
"To my only child – my Angie:
I've arranged it so that this letter only comes to you if I have passed on – so if you are reading this, these will act as my last words to my daughter.
Words cannot express how proud I am of you for what you've become. You turned a life of pain into a truly outstanding accomplishment. I am so happy that you never let anything stand in your way – that you fight for the things you want instead of idly letting them pass you by. My prayer for you as you grow older is that you keep this vigor, that you never let that fire inside you burn out. You are an absolutely beautiful, intelligent, strong-willed woman and it pains me to know that I was never around to be able to watch you grow into what you are.
Continue with where you are going – chase every dream you have, no matter how stupid you think it may be. Good triumphs over evil always, as if it didn't, the world may be a completely different place right now as a result of my sins. You have the power to do anything at your disposal, never forget that.
I've learned through this painful time through many nights of reliving the past and crying that no tears are enough to cover up the painful memories that have imprinted our lives. Though this is true, I ask that you do me and yourself a favor, and shed no more tears over me after reading this letter. Yes, my sacrifice was what saved your life, but I still performed despicable acts and left you and your mother alone and without support. I am sorry for every sadness I've ever caused you through your short life, and I can understand if you go on the rest of your life thinking the worst of me...
But every once in awhile, think of the few good memories we had together. We were so close my Angela, and even though I wasn't around for a long time in your life, you were my best little buddy. When it hurts, when you're angry – remember those times instead of the bad... it'll save you. I promise.
Last but not least, don't ever be too stubborn to accept the help of those who love you, and if you love someone, love them with everything you are – you never know when life can turn everything you know upside down. Every time I've seen you since the raid, I've seen Derek by your side, and I see the way you two look at each other. He cares greatly about you Angie, and I know you feel the same way – I can interpret that sparkle in your beautiful eyes from a mile away. Sadly enough, he has done and been there for you more times in the short time you two have known each other than I have through your entire life. Never be too proud to let him catch you when you fall, because I know he will. And if you love him back, do the same for him. He is the kind of man that I want to see you marry – someone who will stay by your side for a lifetime and who will love you unconditionally... believe it or not, I was once that man for your mother.
Never forget – do not take anything or any person you love for granted. Life is unpredictable. You just never know. I never thought I'd see you again, but I did – and I have you and Derek to thank for that.
Grow up, fall in love( if you aren't already), get married, have a family, and enjoy every passing second of your life. This is my wish for you, and because I am unable to stay around to make sure you do it, I'll be watching over you from wherever I end up.
I am more sorry than you know for everything, though I love you more than life itself. Though I made mistakes, I never for a second regretted giving up my life for you, and right up through the moment I expelled my last breath, I never will.
Please, tell your mother that I never stopped loving her.
Make me proud, Ang.
Dad.
Angie had sobbed through the whole letter, making sure to keep quiet so she could hear her father's last words. Derek had barely gotten through the letter himself, memories of his own father flooding back to him incessantly.
He folded up the letter after finishing it and rested it gently in his lap, using his now free hand to hug Angie tighter. She cried into his chest gently before looking up at him as he wiped the tears from her face gently.
"Derek...?" she asked, pulling out of his grasp. "Does... it ever stop hurting?"
Derek smiled a sad smile and hung his head, reaching for her hand and gently intertwining her fingers with his.
"It gets better, but it never stops hurting..." he said softly. "But, he's right – think of the good memories instead of the bad... it'll save you."
Angie nodded.
"Is... it okay if I stay with you until I get back on my feet?"
Derek smiled at her and rose to his feet, helping her up.
"Of course."
Hand in hand the pair walked out of the cemetery. Derek helped her into the passenger's side of his car and shut the door for her, walking around to the other side and getting in himself. As he buckled his seatbelt Angie placed her fingertips on the windowpane, allowing a single tear to run down her cheek.
"Bye Dad..."
----------
Three years later Angie realized that Derek was right – the pain never really disappeared, but it got easier to live life.
In those years for fear that she would break the rule he set about crying over him, Angie never visited the cemetery where he was buried until one very early Thursday morning before work.
She set a bouquet of fresh flowers next to his headstone with a ribbon tied around the stems – holding a letter of her own in place.
It was surprisingly calming to sit there and watch the sun rise over the horizon, and although she had to fight tears a number of times, Angie felt happy that she had come.
After nearly a half hour of silence, Angie felt a pair of arms wrap around her gently and rest on the big bump that held her first unborn child. She smiled warmly and rested her own hands on top of his, her wedding rings gleaming in the morning sun.
Derek Stiles propped up his chin on his wife's shoulder, kissing her on the cheek as they just stood there and looked down at the lettering on Kenneth Blackwell's gravestone.
"I wish he was around to meet his first grandchild… I know he'd love them." she said softly, feeling Derek squeezing her hands.
"I know, I feel the same way about my dad…" he replied. "But, remember his letter – he's watching over you Angie."
Angie smiled. "I guess you're right – he was right about everything else." she said, turning around and planting a gentle kiss on her husband's forehead.
And just like three years ago, the two walked out of the cemetery hand in hand.
Yeah, so I just cried a little again proofreading this dammit. I am such a friggin loser, lol. I bet money that nobody else cried at this except me.
Oh well - I still hope that you liked reading it - I put a LOT of work into this, so let me know what you think please.