A/N: This story's pretty dark but I was pretty pissed after the season premiere last night. I guess some spoilers for seasons4 & 5 and major character death. Enjoy.
No one noticed him slipping away.
Wilson was gone, off somewhere being indigently self-righteous over his dead girlfriend and hurt feelings. Cuddy was pissed at him for letting Wilson leave. He didn't matter to his old team anymore and the new one didn't care.
So no one noticed when the belly pain started. No one noticed the weight loss, or the change in his completion, or the yellow in his eyes. And no one noticed when the Vicodin just stopped because one more pill would kill him.
Because he was a monster. A murderer. An alcoholic, drug addicted asshole that wrecked everything he touched. Cuddy and Wilson made sure they painted that picture real clear.
He didn't want to die alone in his bed in his apartment, knowing it could be a week or better before any of them forced themselves to give a damn about what may have become of his now nicely rotting corpse, but by the time the end came, he had resigned himself to that fate.
When he curled up into a painful ball that night, he hoped in some sick twisted part of his brain that Wilson would be the one to find his decomposing body and that he'd never be able to get the smell out of his nose. It would just linger around him like a kind of ghost. But, knowing that he most likely would not have such luck, he made sure in his final hours that his feelings towards all of them would be clearly known.
Cuddy and Foreman arrived at his apartment three days later and the stench of death had mixed nicely with the now dried and also rotting blood that had been the ink for his final message written on the wall.
'Fuck all of you'