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Herbert and Dan’s worried faces loom over you on the gurney as you are pushed through the Miskatonic University ICU. Your hand desperately clutched to your chest, doing little more than coating them with the blood gushing out of your open wound; painting the digits a bright red.

You didn’t dare to look down at it. If you couldn't see it, it wasn't real.

Metallic iron and antiseptic.

The faces of horrified onlookers parted the aisle like the red sea. Each of them blurred into a mirage of color, unrecognizable as they merged into a single entity. Your colleagues, friends, and professors surely spectating the horror no doubt.

What will they say about you in the morning paper, what photo will they use?

"I'm dying, oh god this is it isn't it? I'm dying, Herbert. I'm sorry I'm so sorry I'm sorry”

You hold your bloodied hand up to the overhead fluorescent lights zooming by above you, marveling at the way the harsh light bounced of the ruby liquid. In other less dire circumstances, one might even find it beautiful. Your fingers grasp and coil in the air towards Herbert's direction, desperate to make skin-to-skin contact with the one you call your partner. Your palm presses flat against his cheek, transferring your sticky blood onto his flushed face.

“Shut up, [____], you’re not dying," he huffs out, the warble of uncertainty in his voice makes you doubt him. "Stop being dramatic." He presses his lips against the middle of your palm, giving the area a chaste kiss.

These usual terms of endearment do little to comfort you; having never seen Herbert look this concerned before. The most unhinged events he's encountered have simply been brushed off with ease; he is the only man to have stared down death in the eye and challenged its finality. Never in those intense moments did his eyebrows even dare raise in shock. You lull your head to the side, attempting to hold back a choked sob stuck within your throat.

"Is it bad?" you ask, your chest rising and falling as you let out a pathetic laugh. He doesn't even bother to respond. You know the answer anyways. You'll be entering oblivion tonight.

Pushing you into the empty examination room, Dan and Herbert already knew it was too late. They weren't quick enough, not fast enough. Your eyes glazed over as blood continues to pour from you -- trailing and spilling its way down the side of the now still gurney. A cascading river of crimson. Your arms were stuck with a crosswire of tubes, gathering your vitals. It seemed more a formality at this point, as your heart rate already starts to fade.

Dan, with all his optimism, understands any attempts to save your life would be futile at this point. Instead, his infinite mercy injects morphine into your iv bag - a type of drugged-out relief washing over you almost instantly. Kneeling next to you, he holds your hand as your labored breathing fades into short breaths as the medicine enters your veins. Still painful, yet not unbearable. Just enough to bring you comfort before your expiration.

"You're gonna be fine," he smiles, squeezing your hand. You don't have the heart to tell him he's lying. Instead, you just give him a closed mouthed smile back.

Euthanasia. What a beautiful word.

You can hear the rummaging of vials in between your haze, your stomach twisting as Herbert pulled out his precious container of re-agent. His facial features become illuminated by the sickly green glow emanating from the bottle, neon reflecting off of his wire rimmed glasses.

Herbert notices you staring at him, as he waves his hand in front of you, seeing your eyes already grow wide in fear. “It's okay, this won't hurt. You'll be okay in no time, back in our apartment, you just have to trust us-"

"Oh, no no no. NO. You've got to be fucking kidding me, Herbert. You're not doing that to [____!]" Dan interjects, jumping up from his kneeling position next to you. Lunging forward, Dan attempts to grab the liquid. Doing what should have always been done.

Where it should have gone the first time Herbert played God.

Smashed onto the floor into a million fucking pieces.

But Herbert's too quick, as he moves backwards away from Dan's rather pathetic attempt. He cradles his potion like a newborn baby, holding it to his chest for dear life. Lips pressed together into a harsh line; his eyes aflame with fury. "It's the only way Dan. This, or we lose them forever."

Dan stares stunned at his partner, his eyes welling. "You want to turn them into one of those monsters, Herbert? Is that what you want? You want [____] to turn into a snarling, disgusting reanimated beast? Because that's what will happen! That's what happened every FUCKING time before, Herbert! I know you want things to be different but you can't save them. I-I'm sorry," his voice waivers as a sob threatens to steal his voice. "It's not working. At least the way you want it to."

"NO. That's not true. It's different! B-Because this time it's a fresh body, Dan! It will work," Herbert explains, hands shaking, barely getting the needle to plunge into the green fluid. "It's different!! It's different this time because...because it's THEM, Dan! Don't you understand? It has to be different!"

Dan shakes his head solemnly. "But it won't be, Herbert. No matter how much you love them."

"Is that truly what you think? What if it was Megan, Dan? Wouldn't you do the same for her? Give a second chance to the person you love the most, breath new life into what was lost?"

Silence.

"Look me in the eyes right now and tell me you wouldn't. This is what we've worked so hard for, Dan. We will eradicate death altogether. There will be no more suffering, no more pain. No more grief."

He wouldn't admit Herbert was right.

"I can't lose anyone else, Dan," he emotionlessly states, turning his gaze towards you.

"Herbert, please," you beg desperately, a gargle from the blood invading your airways makes your speech difficult to understand. There wasn't much time left.

“You're a monster, Herbert."

“And you’re a hypocrite, Dan,” he spits coldly, flicking the tip of the syringe with his middle finger. “I don’t need your moral superiority interfering with this."

With what little strength you have left, you push yourself to the corner of the gurney, cowering with fear as he stalks towards you. You feel like a lab rat, as Herbert stands before you with an emotionless gaze.

This isn't what love was supposed to feel like.

“Don’t. You promised...you wouldn’t." You feel the cold metal of the needlepoint run against the delicate flesh of your inner arm, and you jump. Your sobs of pain slowly materialize into ones of pure terror. "Don't turn me into one of those creatures! Please!"

The pleads fall hopelessly on deaf ears as every ounce left of your body thrashes in protest, fists weakly hitting against his chest. Your voice hitting a shrill octave that was unfathomable and almost out of the human sound waves. Dan turns his head, unable to bear witness.

"PLEASE, PLEASE HERBERT LET ME DIE. PLEASE!!!"

This was for your own good. You couldn't leave him now, not yet. There was so much more to accomplish, so much more that you had to experience together. You are the exception.

Reversed human decay. Memento Vivere. Remember that you must live.

Your clinical death was called at quarter to twelve.