Prompt: Toby's patient dies. Thanks :)
I’ve had this done for, literally, 9 days or something. I’m just shit at uploading things sorry.
Will be posted on ao3 and FFN sometime later today.
TW: Death, overdose.
He didn’t know where he had gone wrong. Whether it be with the dosage of her medications or the way he approached talking to her or mixing business with pleasure. She said she loved him, that he was helping, that she was getting better. But now she’s dead and Toby has a sinking feeling that somehow, in some small way, it’s his fault.
She’d been doing well. He knew when she lied and wouldn’t let it slide. It took her a long time to open up but when she did it seemed she was so much more than her small frame. Her mind was one that should be celebrated, her thoughts like songs composed better than Mozart could’ve ever dreamed. He remembers getting the call. A patient, his fiancee, had been admitted to the hospital after being found at her place of work on a suspected overdose. His heart clenched and he prayed she’d pull through, that she’d somehow hear his voice and let that be her light in the tunnel to guide her back.
She hadn’t been doing well, he realizes now. Better, yes, but her bad days still cut her to pieces and she fell into the trap that was her mind again. This time she couldn’t escape no matter how many tears he shed or times he cried out her name, watching the monitor next to her bed for days, weeks, and months.
“You’re her only family we can find, you have to make the decision whether or not to take her off life support.” The nurse tells him one day and the words are like a knife in his heart, another pill in her bloodstream. He knows he can’t let her suffer anymore. That his belief of her being healed was too strong to actually be able to help her in her final months. He loved her, loves her, and she loved him and he knows that he has to let that be enough. It has to mean more to him than his degree, than her medicine and journals. So he does. And she slips away without a word, without a goodbye. Just like at the end of her first session with him, he remembers.
Looking at her grave now he doesn’t know what to think. He likes to imagine her smiling, happy, living up to her name. To picture the days her black hair was up in a ponytail, tickling his shoulder as she kissed his neck. Her legs around his waist and him holding her up by the thighs. Toby likes to see a lot of things, they help, he knows, but they aren’t real. Her death is the closest thing to make him believe in heaven only because he so badly wants to see her again.
He sets the flowers down, tracing his fingers over the worn ‘Happy Quinn’ engraved on the stone, the last date a pang to his chest, knowing how short her life was cut. Finding his way home in the dark, Toby takes out his Alprazolam, cutting the pill in half, swallows, and lets himself sleep.
You didn’t say Toby’s patient couldn’t be Happy. I think of this as an AU.
I’m still open for any and all prompts! Will be written as Quintis. Angst is preferred, but all will be taken. Happy Easter!