ishotyouuu | [inbox]

[Yeah, Wade figured that'd be his answer. He lets out a sigh, as if the issue facing them was something mundane like hiring a dog-walker instead of letting Wade do it for free.]

You sure you wanna go through that by yourself? I mean, what if you botch it? Not gonna be a pleasant way out, let me tell you.

Difficult to botch walking into a nuclear wasteland. Do we have to have this conversation now

I mean, when do you wanna have it? Tomorrow?

[But he'll concede to Stephen's point. No point in arguing with a man who's got very little time left.]

Gonna sit down next to you, okay? Don't freak out.

[He sinks down beside Stephen's prone form, noting with no small amount of pity how much worse the other man looks up close. He can feel the feverish heat rolling off of him even from here. Guy's definitely on his last legs.]

[ Tomorrow works for him. But he doesn't have the energy even to be petty, so when Wade warns him of incoming proximity and he waits to feel something and gets not so much as a shift in the air, all other thoughts are swallowed up by that blanket of exhaustion and absent hope.

He closes his eyes again. ]

If there's any way I can make it easier

[ Euthanizing him, he means. Anything he can do himself to take some of the weight, to hold more of the responsibility.

He hates that he's having to ask at all but Wade had given him the option not to rot away in the stillness and the dark, immobilised and surrounded by corpses, and Stephen's never yet been a helpless observer of his own end. For all the times he's gone before, he's still afraid of death the way it naturally occurs: slowly, and without your own say in the matter. ]

[Even when on his last legs, Stephen still thinks of Wade's comfort in all this. There's something ironic about that; something darkly hilarious about the fact that a dying man still feels pity for his soon-to-be mercy killer. It calls to mind one of the only lessons he actually paid attention to in high school, how Mary, Queen of Scots had paid her executioner a single coin and her forgiveness before being beheaded.

Or maybe he was just remembering the Saturday Night Live skit. Either way.

Wade huffs out a laugh, even while knowing that Stephen won't be able to hear him.]

Couldn't have made it any easier if you gift-wrapped yourself for me, boss.

[Slowly, as if Stephen were a frightened animal he's trying not to drive into a panic, Wade reaches over and grips the other man's shoulder, sliding forward until he's positioned partially behind him.]

It'll be quick, I promise. Don't worry. Kind of a pro at this.

[ He feels it this time as he's moved without any of his own impetus. Soon then. Good.

His heartbeat goes haywire with a natural fear of the end, but he focuses on his breath, lets it tremble as it needs to while he brings it under control. He's done this before, in many worse ways. Dying isn't anything to be afraid of when it's chosen and impermanent. Much less when it's handled with care.

He nods his acknowledgement, small but evident. ]

Ready when you are

[Wade takes in a deep breath, exhales. Allows the cold mercenary part of him to overtake him. This is just a job. The circumstances surrounding it are out of the ordinary from his usual fare, but it's not as if he hasn't done this sort of thing before.

A man with red eyes and a metal apparatus grafted onto his face, struggling to relay his message before the leucotome stole what remained of his speech. Managing to choke out the words "Wade" and "hero" before he became incoherent. The feeling of the muscles of his neck between Wade's hands, and how easy it was to give it one push, one sharp twist--

Wade wraps one arm around Stephen's neck, gently pulls him close. His other hand rests firmly on the top of his head. Anyone coming into the room at this exact second could easily mistake these two as being in a tender embrace.]

No offense, boss, but I hope I don't see your face again for a while.

[ Here we go, then. For all the ways he's gone in the past, this will be the first he's died by human hand - UNA bullets not counted. The kindest of many ends.

Odd to be soothed by death's arm around your neck, but in the absence of all other feeling it brings the comfort of grounding. Of knowing it's almost done. That he isn't alone.

He even manages the slight jolt of a huff that would be laughter if he had the energy to push it out as sound. Something does make it out though, as he relaxes finally and fully into Wade's hold. ]

Thank you.

[Wade shifts closer to him, feeling that strained breath of laughter vibrate through Stephen's body like a dying man's final paroxysms. He feels the man relax, feels him go slack in his arms-- not so much out of any measure of trust, but more in a sense that tells Wade that he's finally given up. That he's done fighting.

There's something to be envied about that.

He grins a cynical grin, even as he inwardly prepares; strengthens his resolve for what's to come.]

Don't thank me yet. You haven't seen the bill.

[His arm across Stephen's neck tightens, tightens until he thinks he can feel the other man's ribs shift slightly. His other hand gains stronger purchase on his employer's head. It comes so naturally to him that he finds himself distracted, thinking of the past.

Worm. Cable. Yet another number added to the already impossibly large list.

A swift jerk and a sharp, sickening crack, and Stephen's body goes limp, sagging against Wade as if in relief. A low, rasping sigh exits his lungs-- a sound that is final and disturbing and all too familiar.

It probably says something about him that he prefers a man's death rattle over the sudden all-encompassing silence.

After a few moments, Wade gently lets go of the corpse, laying it down in such a way that it looks like the man is merely sleeping. He doesn't feel grief. He doesn't feel anger or sorrow or really much of anything except a sudden weariness. And as he rises from the floor to make his way back to whatever meager civilization is left, he can't help but toss one last remark over his shoulder, his voice sounding strange and distant in the cold, lonely alcove:]

See you when I see you, boss. Maybe.

[inbox] - meadowlark

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(cw: mentions of medical torture, forced lobotomy)

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