Title: End Of Tether
Author: Wicked R
Disclaimers: characters are the property of FX. I'm using them for fun only.
Rating: R.
Genre: Angst/darkfic. Warning! Extreme Negative Emotions. Don't read if you're not completely comfortable with the genre. Written in first person.
Summary/Set: after the ep. Agatha Ripp. A different take of how the reconciliation between Sean and Christian takes place.
I'm wandering about aimlessly in the empty surgery. I don't know what I'm doing and why I came here. I look at the sign, that once said McNamara/Troy. Sean took it down last night, right after I let him beat me as much as he wished. He followed it up with hammering our sign down and whacking the part where it said Troy to pieces. I guess that means it's over. I lost my best friend. I feel lost myself. I don't understand. I gave him the most precious gift I ever could. I gave up the love of my life for him. For his friendship. I'm not sure if Julia would've said yes if I asked her to marry me back then, but I never tried to take her away from him. He accused me of treachery. He doesn't understand how hard it was for me to give her up. In my whole ludicrous sexually oriented life I only slipped up once. Once. While I want her all day all night. I want her all the time. I fantasize that every woman I'm with is her. Still, that one mistake cost me my best friend. My only friend. I feel hurt somewhere distant, but it doesn't register with me anymore. I'm numb. I'm looking at myself as if from the outside, and I'm not recognising myself. I ponder for a second why that might be. Why do I feel the way I feel? Why can't I live without Sean's friendship? Then I figure it out. Without Sean means without Julia as well. No way I can as much as ever look at her the same way. Sean will not let me. Not that she was ever mine, apart from that fleeting half an hour that she lay in my arms. Once. I love you Julia. I love you Sean. I love you Wilbur. I love you Matt, even if you will never consider me your father. I know, you love your dad. And that is the way it should be. Sean's a good father. One I could never be. As I wander I halt in front of a mirror. I'm unshaved, and I didn't sleep last night. I look like hell. I don't get it. I never needed plastic surgery to look good. Okay, maybe my nose is a bit bigger than it should be, but after the ordeal with it not so long ago, I would never want to touch it again. It is my physical appearance women appreciate. Once they start to know me, they don't want me anymore. Nobody wants me. Nobody will miss me here at the surgery. Nobody would miss me anywhere. There's an immense whole where my chest used to be. I don't like it. I don't want to need anyone, I don't want to be broken and weak. But I am and I hate it. I don't want to feel like this anymore. I have nothing to live for, nothing at all. I am just empty. There is nothing for me, now or ever. Why should I go on? Why? Things will never get better because I can't change. I always screw up, sooner or later. There are no solutions to my problems. I tried relationships, they just don't work for me. But I'm so scared to be alone. I will never be happy again. There is no point in trying anymore. I just want to give up. I feel so hopeless. The future is empty for me. What is the meaning of life for me? I'm usually doing one of the following: fucking, eating, sleeping, doing pointless surgeries on other hopeless people or thinking about the meaning of my god damn life. Is this life? I only see things getting worse in the future. Without Sean. That is the reflection of the side of the drugs cabinet in the mirror. That's were the answer is. I focus on what I'm doing, not the thoughts. There are no thoughts. I walk over to the cabinet slowly and find the appropriate key on the key ring in my pocket. I look at the names of the medicines. Anaesthetics. Thiopentone. For some reason it's not Liz's handwriting. It's Sean's. I can't help it, I have to run my fingers over his writing. It's not much, but at least it's a connection to him. I move to prepare a solution, dissolving the yellowish powder in sterile water. Sterile! Why do I bother? It doesn't matter for me anyway. I remember a quote I read somewhere once. Death is not the greatest loss in life. The greatest loss is what dies inside us while we live. I'm dead already. For a second there I stop and I contemplate if I'm gone insane. Would be a fair thing, with my childhood as it was. My difficulties of maintaining relationships, my sex addiction, the way I protect myself being cruel towards others, to Kim, everyone, all my problems, a direct result of my childhood. I know that. Still, the feeling remains. I smile wickedly as I prepare the syringe. I know the exact doze I need to be cold and stiff long before the morning. I know because I'm a doctor. Not a good one, but a doctor nevertheless. Not for long. I chose Thiopentone because the onset time of it is approximately the time it takes for the drug to travel from the vein in the arm to the brain. I can't change my mind. There's nothing and nobody that could hurt…me…a…nymo…