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CHAPTER SEVENTY TWO sanctuary. season six, episode twenty three.
[ please refer back to the trigger warnings in the previous chapter ]
CASSIE WASN'T AFRAID TO DIE.
Death was never something she ran from, or even went out of her way to avoid. Death lingered, she noticed. Crossing the road or walking to her car after dark, it was always there, watching, waiting. Choking a bit on her food, dropping a knife while cooking, speeding to avoid being late to work, and every time, death followed. It was patient, picking and choosing when to make itself known. Bombs, ferry boat crashes, ignorant bus drivers, being shot. Death was always there, one step ahead.
Death didn't stand for the elderly or slow for the children. Death didn't lend sympathy to grieving mothers, soldiers at war, or even people at war with themselves. It came when it desired, and left when it was done. Death was brutal, and selfish, and final.
But Cassie, for lack of a better word, couldn't find it in herself to give a fuck.
Perhaps it was her lack of religious beliefs. Or maybe, it was that she'd seen death, faced death, so many times, that the dramatic effect of oh my god, this is the end and there's no coming back had pretty much worn off. There had actually been times after Bonnie and Denny and George died, that she longed for it. Longed for a permanent escape from the whirlwind of emotions she felt, from the fear of continuing to live. Sometimes, her life was even scarier than the prospect of her death.
Cassie wasn't afraid to die.
Well, she didn't used to be, at least.
ONE HOUR, TWENTY ONE MINUTES.
Cassie really didn't want to go to work.
It had only been a few days since she'd been banned from the OR, and already, she was growing the urge to quit her job, again. Only this time, it wasn't out of guilt or grief, but rather due to the amount of sheer annoyance she felt every time she was forced to pass by Derek, carrying a stack of charts while doing post-ops, or pre-ops, or even more post-ops. At one point, a new doctor had actually mistaken her for an intern.
Besides, Mark's bed was nice. It was only in his nature to splurge on things like expensive silk bedsheets and hand-stitched duvets, but Cassie never grew tired of the way they felt on her skin; of course, nothing beat the way he felt while they were under them.
