Hey guys and gals. This is a new fic that I thought of after listening to So Cold by Ben Cocks. It's only inspired by some of the first verse, but it got me thinking, and this came out during my writing streak this week. I've been very productive this week, and it's still going.
Anyway, this is a sad fic, I'm sorry, but I thought it was a cool idea. My friend, iKnightWriter, has already said that I broke her heart with it, and I cried while writing it - and I've never cried while writing anything - so this is my sorry in advance.
My other works are in the process of being written, so just be patient. They will come when they come, so just keep your eyes out for them.
Image used is 'A Halo for NGC 6164.'
T.C
PS. Next part of the Stiles - Child of Hades series is going to be another one shot, called Little Sister. While it may not be what people want - cause it's not about how Stiles finds out about being a demigod, and how she found out about her parentage - that one is being written. I just wanna have all my ducks in a row with it. The one about her past will be called Big Sister.
~oOo~
Going to funerals was always hard. All the crying, and mourning people, but death happens to everybody eventually. It doesn't make it any easier to deal with, even if you know it is just a natural progression of life.
I wanted to yell at them to stop crying. That it wasn't their fault. But they couldn't hear me, couldn't see me, and couldn't feel me. I had a feeling that Lydia could at least hear me, but her banshee powers were not always that reliable. And I don't think she wanted to see me, not at a time like this.
This was the forth funeral I'd been to. First was my moms, the second had been Heather's, and third was Tara's. The forth, was mine. When I'd first died, I didn't know what had happened, but it didn't take me long to figure it out.
~oOo~
It had been cold when I woke up, laying on the cold, metal table, covered in a white sheet. I thought it was strange, but it wasn't the weirdest thing that had ever happened to me – there was that one time where we'd had to sacrifice ourselves, and when I had to hide in a body bag to gain access to a private hospital.
Sitting up, I slid off the table, walked over to the door, and pushed it open. The halls were lit up, and people were walking around, but they paid no attention to me. Who would though? I'm around here so much.
Things started to change when I got to the waiting room though. The rest of the Pack were there; some sobbing, some trying to contain their emotions, and everybody was comforting each other.
"Hey, guys. What happened?" I asked, but nobody looked up at my voice. They didn't even look up when I stood in front of them. Waving my hands in their eye line, sitting next to them, screaming at them to look at me, but nothing worked. Nothing was getting their attention.
They all remained silent, holding onto the closest person to them, and not straying too far from where everyone was. That all changed when my father ran in, still dressed in his sheriffs uniform. They looked up at that.
"Dad! What's going on? Nobody's telling me anything." I ran up to him.
"Where is she? Where's my daughter?"
"I'm right here, dad." They were starting to confuse me now, "I'm standing in front of you. Can't you see me?"
"She's gone, Sheriff." Chris took the lead, being the only one who could without breaking down, "They couldn't restart her heart. She lost too much blood. She's dead."
No, I couldn't be dead. I was here. I could hear them, and see them, and… No. This wasn't possible. I didn't want to be dead. Who was going to make sure dad stuck to his diet? Who was going to annoy Derek, and have snarky talks with Peter?
Then it all came flooding back to me. The hunter, the gun. The two shot, hitting in the middle of my chest, just under my breasts, and burning at the entry points. The blood blossoming across my grey top, as I fell to the forest floor. Somebody screaming my name.
Blurred faces coming into my line of sight, hovering above me. The warm liquid that ran down my cheek when I coughed, and bubbled in my mouth when I tried to breathe; running down my throat when I breathed in.
I sprinted back down the hallway that I'd walked up, and running into the morgue; passing straight through the door, without even having to open it. Melissa was standing next to the sheet-covered body, one hand over her mouth as she tried to contain her sobs.
Even though only the head of the body was uncovered, there was no mistaking that it was me. My eyes were closed, and somebody had cleaned my face of the blood, and brushed my hair. I looked almost peaceful.
"You're much too young to die. Why did it have to be you?"
~oOo~
My body was at the front of the church. It was an open casket, so there was a line of people waiting to pay their respects. I didn't recognize a lot of the people there, but I was the Sheriff's daughter, his only child, and people came out in droves to show support.
I'd been put in a black dress – a stitched silver Triskelion on the left breast – my hair was resting on my shoulders, and my make-up was almost flawless. It was much better then I could have done. I didn't have any patience.
The Pack were the last people to come up to my coffin. Each of them kissed the top of my head, some said words, and others just couldn't. Derek broke the norm though, by placing a small bouquet of white roses in my hand as well.
"I'm still here, dad." Tears stung my eyes, and my hand ghosting right though his shoulder, "Daddy… Scott… Derek… Please, I'm lonely.
But they all stayed facing forward, listening as the Priest talked about my life, and my friends, and my noble sacrifice – saving the life of a friend, by pushing them out of the way of the bullets that took my life.
When it got to the eulogies, it was hard. Lydia, Allison and Erica all burst into tears while trying to give theirs, dad and Scott became hard to understand, and just when I thought Derek would be the saving grace of everything, he ended up in tears as well. He did okay, at the beginning, until he got to the end.
"People talk about regrets, things they wish they'd said before it was too late… Well, I have one." He started, but he'd already started taking deep breaths to calm himself, "I wish… I wish that I had told her… Told her my feelings for her. And… And now it's too late."
I walked up to him, and placed my hand on his cheek. If I held my hand still when doing it, I could mimic touching someone. "I feel the same, Sourwolf."
~oOo~
After leaving the church, we went to the graveyard. They'd dug my hole next to mom's grave, with a little wooden cross marking where my headstone would go. They have to let the ground settle before putting it with me.
Not everybody came to see me being lowered into the ground, leaving that for immediate family and friends only. Each took a handful of dirt and through it into the hole where my coffin now was.
They all stood around for longer then they had to. All the dirt had been put back in its place, and the flowers had been placed on the mound, but they still didn't look like they were going to leave.
"It's time to go, Mischief." I turned around to see my mom, standing in a bright light; her hand outstretched for me to take.
"I can't." Tears rolled down my cheeks, "I don't want to leave them."