"Viewing a life shattered by grief is like watching an image in a broken mirror,
the pieces fractured beyond recognition.
Sometimes too fractured to put back together again."
- Anonymous -
*TRIGGER WARNING* This chapter is about (the preparation for) a suicide. Please don't read if this will upset you! Furthermore, if you're contemplating to end your life, please consult the International Suicide Prevention Wiki site for a help line in your vicinity. They might be able to help you make sense of things.
The time has come for him to put an end to it all.
He no longer even has what little energy it takes to trudge through each day, to continue down this dark path; no will to keep going. But his fervent wish that his life will end has not been granted, despite the utter lack of caring for his now gaunt, hollow body. Even though all that's left is a shell, he still breathes in and out.
He wants to stop that.
One evening, he pulls his dress uniform from the back of the closet and places it at the foot of his bed. His hand absentmindedly glides over the fabric, his mind throwing up scenes of the times he's worn it in the past; his father's funeral, Kono's unofficial acceptance within the 'ohana' of Five-Oh, the wake for one of Danny's friends.
Danny's funeral ...
Shaking himself, he walks into the bathroom, where he proceeds to take a scalding hot shower, scrubbing his body clean of all the filth which has gathered during the past weeks, the past months. When he stands at the mirror, wiping away the steam left after the shower, he stares at the face looking back at him. A face gone hollow, the skin stretched over razor sharp cheek bones, framed by too-long hair gone prematurely grey.
A face he really doesn't recognize as his own anymore.
His hand shakes when he pulls the razor over his cheeks, but it doesn't really register when the blade catches on a fold of dry skin, frowning as he watches a thin trickle of blood starting to run down his chin. He dabs at it with a towel, slowly breathing in and out while he waits for it to congeal. His movements are like a robot's; stilted, automated; devoid of animation, of life.
When he feels he is ready, he pulls on clean boxers and goes back to the bedroom. There, he takes a long time staring at the uniform lying on the bed, his hands reaching out several times only to draw them back and hang them by his sides again. Some subconscious part of him finally decides against putting it on, as if he no longer deems himself worthy of wearing this symbol of courage, of bravery.
Of strength.
Walking around the foot of the bed, he takes the spare weapon he always keeps in the night stand as well as the box of ammunition next to it, and methodically starts to load the bullets into the clip before snapping it inside the side arm. The sound of the release of the safety catch causes him to pause, bringing a little clarity into his hazy brain.
He stares at the gun in his hand, then glances at the bed. The place where he and Danny forged a new beginning, started a new life filled with tender moments and love and laughter. The spot where he would just lie still and stare at that beautiful man, waiting for him to wake up and see those sleep filled blue eyes catch his own and silently speak of his love for him.
The place where he plans to end what's left of his life.
For one moment he wonders whether this is the place where he should do it, desecrating the one location which was once the center of their relationship, the altar on which they offered their love to each other.
Yes, he decides.
What better place to end it all than the bed which holds the best of his memories of his lover, of his love. What better place than that soft, warm nest in which he can still feel the ghostly imprint of a kiss, the shadowy remains of arms wrapped around him. What better place to offer his life's blood than the same altar on which they once offered each other their lives.
Decision made, he crawls up on the bed and settles against the head board.
From this position he can see the sun through the trees in the backyard, slowly going down over the vast expanse of the ocean outside; can see the day's last remnants of light extinguishing as the night approaches and gently starts enveloping the world in its cloak of darkness. As the last rays of sunshine flicker over the water and shadows start drawing near, he sighs and raises his hand. He has seen enough shadows.
He pulls the trigger and follows the light.