Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
You're sick of feeling numb
You're not the only one
I'll take you by the hand
And I'll show you a world that you can understand
This life is filled with hurt
When happiness doesn't work
Trust me and take my hand
When the lights go out you will understand
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Anger and agony
Are better than misery
Trust me, I've got a plan
When the lights go off, you will understand
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing, rather feel pain
I know, I know that you're wounded
You know, you know that I'm here to save you
You know, you know I'm always here for you
I know, I know that you'll thank me later
Pain, without love
Pain, can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Pain, without love
Pain, I can't get enough
Pain, I like it rough
'Cause I'd rather feel pain than nothing at all
Rather feel pain than nothing at all
Rather feel pain
Derek stared blankly at the tiny body the paramedics were pulling out of the car. He couldn't feel his injuries, though he was sure he had them. Chloe's face was bloody and bruised and bleeding, totally slack, with a slightly imprinted look of pain on it. Simon was getting loaded onto his own ambulance and Dr. Fellows was shouting at the paramedics and Dad was shaking fire off of his shirt and Tori was gagging, her mouth filled with blood. A man was in Derek's face, trying to snap him out of his daze. Instead, he shoved past him to follow Chloe into the ambulance. She was so still...A voice finally broke through.
"You can't come. You're not family. You have to leave."
"Like hell." He growled, glaring at the man talking to him. His face was fuzzy, and Derek wasn't really sure if it was actually a man or if that's just what it seemed like.
"Leave him alone." Derek wasn't sure if his father was talking to him or the paramedic, but the uniformed man sat down. "Just take him to the hospital with her. They're both injured."
Eventually, Derek ended up on a hospital cot next to Chloe's, with people saying something like "blood loss" and "losing consciousness" and "shock". He wasn't listening. Simon's bed was on Chloe's other side, where they were trying to wake him up. Tori was getting stitches in her head, eyes glazed and confused. Someone was shouting something..."she's fibrillating, Dr. Sanchez." Derek didn't know what that meant, his mind refused to understand. Then he watched in horror as the nurse brought a machine to the doctor and he brought out shock pads.
"No!" He snarled, but his father put a hand on his shoulder, watching along with a pained expression. Simon's body jerked sharply, and Dad rushed over, face pale. There were so many doctors in their little curtain area. Derek watched, helpless, as they shocked Chloe, and while they looked at his brother, trying to understand what was wrong with him.
"Sir, it's cardiac arrest." Derek's vision went to tunnel, he couldn't see anything. The room was spinning and glittering. He vaguely realized there were doctors around him, too, speaking in a language that sounded foreign to his ears, which were ringing.
"He's got about three broken ribs, and a bad concussion. Look at those bruises on his face. He'll need staples in this cut on his head. Is that all his blood?"
"Yeah, he's been bleeding since he got here."
"How is he still conscious?" Derek watched Chloe's vitals on the little monitors hooked up to her. They were sticking a tube down her throat and putting a mask over Simon's face. Derek felt himself sway, his breathing shallow and quick. And then, he couldn't see any more, and his hearing went, too. His mind decided to let go for awhile.
Six Months Later
"Derek!" Dad called, his voice, as was usual now days, sounded flat to Derek's ears. Everything did. He didn't listen to music any more. Any music. He couldn't watch TV with anyone because it didn't make any sense.
"Coming." Derek replied in a flat voice that made his father glance up toward the stares in concern. He shouldn't have been concerned though. It was normal for him to sound like this now. Tori even peered at him in curiosity. But what did they expect? Chloe and Simon were in comas while Derek was up and walking around. They were hurt because of him. It was his fault.
Dr. Fellows still glared at him. So he was used to it. He didn't have the mentality at the moment to even register that she blamed him as he blamed himself. Maybe not as much, but enough for him to know-on some level- that she hated him. That was okay. He hated himself, too. When he had bursts of awareness, that is. It hurt when he was aware, though, so he tried not to be aware.
"Can you cut these for me?" Dad handed him a huge knife and a couple tomatoes. Derek looked from the knife to the fruits, confused for a moment. Cut...? Why does he want me to cut those? He thought, not quite understanding until a few synapses fired off in his brain and he understood. He sliced them, enjoying the ability to slice something to bits.
That's when it happened. The sharp edge of the knife somehow slashed across the palm of Derek's hand. Pain zinged through him, shot through the numbness and the internal pain that he'd been hiding from. He hissed angrily and went to the sink, washing the blood from his hand and wrist where it dripped, letting hot water keep spewing over it even when the stinging worsened. His lips curled up in a sick, sadistic smirk. It hurt, but it felt good at the same time. For a few seconds, and while the pain kept going, it had gone away. By it, he meant everything. He even- God forgive him- forgot that his brother and Chloe were dying. Just for a few seconds.
At her name, he flinched, brought back to before, except now, his numb armor had been pierced, and it was hard to gather it around him again, not without still feeling the emotional pain. He squeezed his palm, kneading the cut. He smiled again when the pain made his eyes tear up. This was better than waiting for them to die.
"Derek? Here, let me wrap that up." Dad said quietly. Derek jerked his hand back, cradling it to his chest protectively.
"No. No, it's fine." He said hoarsely, that being the most emotion they'd heard from him in a while. Dad looked about to faint. "I can take care of it." He turned sharply and went straight to his room, not looking back. He sat on his bed, staring at the red cut that was already healing. So no more pain.
That night, the nightmare returned, like it usually did. Derek woke drenched in sweat, panting. He knew he hadn't made any noise. He never did. Only someone with bionic hearing would've heard his breathing grow labored at this hour. He got out of bed and quickly dressed. It was still night time outside. He was still panting, this time from the thoughts that he shouldn't have been able to have.
He jumped out his window, not bothered by the two story drop. His knees protested, but he just kept running as soon as his feet touched the ground. You're smart, Derek. So let's think this through. He was looking for stuff while running. Tree branches whipped at his face, cutting it up, slices that rained blood down his cheeks. He grinned wickedly, wondering if he'd gone insane. But did insane people know they were going insane? Did it matter at this point?
Derek found a gas station, went inside, and pulled out the money he brought with him. He bought a pocket knife, and vodka. He wasn't sure why he needed the vodka, but it seemed right. The salesman didn't say anything about underage whatever, probably because Derek looked older than sixteen. That was fine, really, because he didn't need problems right now.
He ran straight into the woods. Slashed one palm open, just to see if it still worked. His breath hissed through a pain-clenched jaw. He thought that the cracked ribs and punctured lung he got in the accident would've immune-d him to petty cuts, but this worked. It hurt, which was good. He waited for a while, letting it bleed before clenching his fingers in a fist- it intensified the pain and made the bleeding stop. Then he opened the vodka- a very big bottle, he didn't notice before- and started chugging. He laughed when he realized he couldn't even taste it, really.
Kit didn't want to go into Derek's room. The kid was already going through enough, so why wake him up early? Kit found himself standing outside his son's room for about ten minutes before sighing heavily and opening the door. But Derek wasn't there. The window was open. Kit frowned. He didn't think Derek would run away, but he wasn't one for- unless he Changed. Kit's heart squeezed. His son was out there on his own dealing with that?
"K...Kit." Lauren gasped. "Kit! Help us, Kit, hurry up! Oh, my God!" He tore down the stairs, stopping when he saw Derek. He was a mess, small, healing cuts all over his face, leaves and twigs in his hair, dirt smudging him, his eyes were blood shot, and he smelled like Smirnoff vodka. His hands had dried blood cacked on them.
"Derek- what-what happened?" Kit sputtered. Tori came into the room at Lauren's shouting. She gaped at Derek.
"Nothing." Derek said flatly, in a voice devoid of all emotion. Kit relaxed. That, at least, was the same as it had been since the car crash.
"It doesn't look like nothing."
"Well it is." He snapped, still some how managing not to show much emotion. Kit wondered if, with Simon and Chloe, his mind was in a coma.
"Okay, okay. I was just asking. Were you...were you drinking?" Kit managed, not quite sure if he was smelling the alcohol or just something else.
"No." Derek said, heading for the stairs.
He couldn't remember falling asleep, but he eventually did, waking up when the sun glared into his face. This was the easy solution. It was working. A small, thin smile pulled at his lips.
For two and a half weeks, Derek sliced his palms, his arms, sometimes his gut if he wanted the pain very sharp. He drank some, too, but that only numbed him more, and he wanted to feel something, but not what his mind was stuck on. He did not visit Chloe or Simon in those two and a half weeks. He forgot about anyone else in the world except himself. And if his father didn't say anything, he didn't eat, because nothing gave him the satisfaction of his own blood dripping from thin, deep cuts all over his person.
And then. The girl walked into the room. She looked odd, a stranger. Derek just stared at her, uncomprehending as blood drizzled down his wrist and stained his t-shirt. He lifted a lip, baring his teeth to tell her to go away. He didn't want an intrusion into his private world.
"You're so stupid, Derek." She sighed, her voice disappointed. He glared at her.
"Go away." He growled, not unclenching his jaw.
"No. Did you think this is the way to make any one happy?" she asked, face twisting.
"It's making me happy." Though he didn't really know the meaning of the word anymore, considering his satisfaction came from alcohol, a knife, and his own spewed blood.
"No, it's not. It's not helping anything, either. You stopped visiting the hospital." Her voice cracked. Derek tried, really hard, to pull up a name, but he kept getting distracted by the blood soaking his shirt, the smell of it, the taste of it in the air.
"Yes it is." He whispered.
"Why are you doing this?" He paused. Why was he doing this?
"Because it makes it go away."
"Makes what go away?" He ignored her, swallowing what was left of his liquor. She repeated her question.
"It makes everything go away. All of it." He whispered very quietly. She sat beside him slowly, not very close, like maybe she didn't know him like he didn't know her.
"You can't do that, though. One, you're hurting yourself. Two, it's not helping. Three...we need you." She grimaced. "We need you to wake up." Derek stood sharply.
"No! I can't! I won't! I don't..." his voice cracked and a weird noise came from his chest. It took the alien wetness on his face to summon a word for what was going on: crying. "I don't want to feel it anymore, Tori!" With the name came pain and memories and awful, awful guilt. "I don't want to remember that it was me driving! I don't want to think of how they looked in that hospital room! I can't stand it! I can't- I don't want- I don't want these memories- these feelings- this..." he was panting, sobbing. "I can't help her, I can't help my brother..."
"Derek." Tori sighed, shaking her head, though she looked alarmed. "You need to come to the hospital." He backpedaled quickly.
"No! I can't do it!" He gasped, panting and shivering.
"Derek, you have to. They...you have to." She said. The look on her face confused him. He didn't understand. He frowned. His gut seized.
"Oh, God." He whimpered. "I...I can't..."
"You HAVE to, Derek. Grow a spine, and get a move on. They need you. You have to." Chloe. Chloe. Simon, Chloe, Simon, Chloe, Chloe, Chloe, Simon, what did I do? He thought, looking at his newly acquired scars and cuts. He gagged a little, surprised. It had been so long since he'd seen anything but blood.
The hospital smelled stale and gross. But Derek followed his father, Chloe's aunt- her name?- and Tori through the doors, past the waiting room, and into Simon and Chloe's shared room. They both looked very pale and still. But Derek heard them breathing. He frowned at Tori. She said...or were they going to pull the plug? His heart sped up and he looked at his father in panic. He shook his head.
"They woke up earlier." Dad whispered. "That's why we brought you. We thought maybe it'd help."
"W-w-what?" he gasped, uncomprehending.
"They woke up a while ago. They're going to live. They're fine." Dr...Fellows, Chloe's aunt, said. She gave Derek's arm a squeeze. He bolted to the middle of the room, between the two beds. Chloe was so...tiny. Still. And then. Blue eyes fluttered open. A smile curled those lips for just a moment, before a frown drew them down.
"You stupid fur ball! What the hell is wrong with you?" She shouted- hoarsely.
"What?" he asked, confused.
"I'm a NECROMANCER, I was WATCHING you. How COULD YOU DO THAT TO YOURSELF? TO ME?" Derek flinched, harshly.
"I- I was- I missed- I couldn't-"
"You couldn't handle it? So you decided to hurt yourself? I saw how hurt you were when we first got here, idiot!" She snapped, panting laboriously.
"Chloe, you should relax. Yell at me when you're totally-"
"Don't you try to hover and-and protect me when you can't seem to take care of yourself!" He flinched again, pain igniting in his chest. "I can't- How could you do that to me, Derek?" She finally whispered, tears filling her eyes.
"Chloe- please-please don't cry." He whispered, kneeling by her bed; he was shaking again, though whether from lack of food in a few days or from worry for her, he wasn't sure. "Please don't cry. I'm so sorry. I know what I did was stupid and wrong, but I wasn't strong enough to deal with what I did to you guys. It was like...a self-inflicted psychotic break, I guess."
"What YOU did to us? What YOU DID?" Chloe shrilled, her breathing raspy.
"Please calm down, Chloe." Derek fretted, panicky.
"Derek." She looked at him, suddenly calm. "What do you remember from the crash?"
"I was driving down the highway, and someone said something, so I looked over. The truck hit the passenger side of the van, near the back- hitting you and Simon the most." Chloe was shaking her head before he even finished.
"Do you remember your three months in the hospital?"
"What three months?" he asked, confused. Kit and Lauren gasped. He glanced at them. "I wasn't in the hospital for three months."
"Yes, you were." Dad said, walking over to Chloe's other side in alarm. "Derek, you were as badly injured as the rest of them. And you weren't driving."
"Yes, I was. You were..." he frowned, furrowing his brow to focus. "I was driving... and I wasn't in here for three months."
"Derek..." Dr. Fellows said quietly, shifting closer. "I was driving. Chloe was sitting in your lap. The only reason she lived was because you twisted, so you got the brunt of the impact. The reason she was so hurt was the shattering glass and her head getting hit. You had a bad concussion and a punctured lung and your whole right side was pretty much broken." She said very softly. Derek's head spun. "And after you healed, you were put in the psych ward, because you wouldn't eat or talk."
"No. I wasn't here for that long."
"Derek. Lauren was driving. You were snugglin' with Chloe, and when you saw that truck coming, you tried to protect her with your body. You were nearly crushed. After three months, you came home, and then you cut your hand while cutting those stupid tomatoes and then you started doing all that stupid shit." Tori snapped. She was very pale. "Stop shaking your thick head, wolf boy, you were gone. Totally gone. No one could make you come out of that."
"Derek." Chloe whispered. "You were too busy trying to shoulder the blame that you didn't even realize it's not your fault." She shook her head.
"I second that." A new voice croaked. "You big idiot."
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So that's that. It was pretty long, I think. I liked it. I don't know why, but lately, I've been wanting all my characters to feel as crazy as I feel. I don't know. Anyway. Criminal Minds, is a great show. Just throwin' that out there. XD Anyway. Thanks. R&R. This is the last chapter of Derek's one shots and the next one is Chloe's. They're still about DerekXChloe, though. BTW= Chloe's will either start out with a sad one and get better or the sad one will be ch. 2 or something. Thanks!