Nullum bellum suscipi a civitate optima, nisi aut pro fide, aut pro salute
The world ended on a Tuesday. There were warriors standing by, good men, honest, compassionate men, who had to carry on even after one of their greatest leaders had fallen. They all lost something the day she went away. An innocence that can never be retrieved.
Chris lost his daughter, something no parent should ever feel, for the pain of having to lay your teenaged daughter to rest alongside your wife and sister-all of whom were dead due to their doing what they thought was right-not only made him sick to his stomach but also made him put everything he has ever known into question. Every moral code and fiber of his being began to crumble down-he didn't know how he was supposed to be a good soldier when he had been kicked to the ground so many times that he didn't know what was right anymore.
Scott lost his first love, a girl who had loved him despite his species and social awkwardness-she made him feel worthy of love like he finally had a place he belonged, sure they had broken up and he would always love her but he was no longer in love with her. She would always have a place in his heart but he still felt guilty. What the hell took him so long to get to her? Why wasn't he out on the front lines, protecting her? Why wasn't it him? He was supposed to be some great big true alpha but he couldn't even keep his own people safe. His own friend-pack- safe.
Lydia lost her best friend, her other half, the one person who truly understood her like any best friend would. She stood by and protected her against everything, they had each other's backs, and even when Lydia would make a bitchy comment or throw an insult at her, she would through one back, and love her anyway. It was her fault. If she wasn't so weak and could fight they wouldn't have to send out a rescue squad to save the damsel every five minutes.
Isaac lost a large hunk of his family and the girl. Their relationship had just started to bloom and he had finally found a home at Scott's, and carved out a unit of family-pack-within it. His dad had put him through so much and he had no one he was the epitome of lone wolf-no pun intended-until she came along. Sure they had their ups and downs-like her stabbing him with Chinese ring daggers and him almost wolfing out and killing her in a supply closet, but they had worked past that and were on their way to something great, until tragedy struck and he was once again, feeling empty. He still had Scott, and the pack but it wasn't the same. She was gone and she wasn't coming back and he couldn't help but see some semblance of her and Boyd and Erica's deaths. All hunks of his heart that were gone and never coming back because of the supernatural.
And Stiles? Stiles lost himself as well as a friend, he lost faith in his character, leading him to always second guess himself, always question whether the nogitsune was really gone or if it was just another trick. He at times felt so guilty and sick and seething with rage he wouldn't leave his bedroom for days at a time. He couldn't even look the pack, Chris, anyone in the eyes. They weren't particularly close but she was a good person, she was kind and patient with him when others would lose their patience because of his ADHD she listened and didn't interrupt- she just concentrated on his words-looking him directly in the eye with that unwavering gaze. But in the end, he guesses, the good ones always die first. The ones that didn't deserve it. She died and it's his fault. He killed her. He killed one of the few who actually paid attention.
ave atque vale