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They say your life flashes before your eyes when you die. That’s just for the lucky ones. The ones whose deaths doctors will describe as ‘instant’ and ‘pain-free’ to a room full of grieving loved ones. The ones that have one precious blink before death takes them. They never talk about the ones left waiting. The ones who not only see the flash but have the time to remember the regrets, when death is slow.
Chris Argent is bleeding out. The jagged piece of wood protruding from his chest is only slowing blood flow, not stopping it. He’s certain one of his lungs collapsed and every movement sends a sharp pain radiating through his body. It was supposed to be a simple hunt. Go in and give the omega that killed five people during the last full moon a quick death then get out. He meticulously planned the entire operation. There was no room for error. He didn’t, however, predict all the variables. He didn’t predict the fragility of the abandoned house’s structure or for its basement to resemble a cave more than anything man made. He most certainly did not predict the omega to be a raging sociopath who read The Anarchist Cookbook one too many times. The rest of the team is either dead, injured, or beyond his reach. So the whole ‘life flashing before your eyes’ thing happened to Chris about twenty minutes ago. Which has left him with nothing to do but wait.
He thinks of Gerard first and how he wished he had stood up to his father more often, challenged him the way Kate always did. He thinks of how much hatred he felt towards his father for the life he bore him into, the life that nearly broke him, that broke Kate. Most of all, he hated the stench of hypocrisy that Gerard left on everything he touched. In the end, he’s grateful to his father for introducing him to the strong morals that came with the code, though the man barely followed them himself. His mistakes made Chris a better father for Allison, a better man.
He thinks of Kate and how he still blames himself for what she became. As kids he was so determined to keep his humanity he never stopped to think of hers. He saw how she hero-worshipped Gerard and said nothing because it was easier. It was easier to let her hog Gerard’s attention, letting Chris slip through. He wonders now what Kate would’ve been like if he had been able to stop her downward spiral, whether she ever had any hope at all. He’s never forgiven her for what she did. He almost hates himself for that. Almost.
He thinks of Victoria and how she was always a solid presence that kept him afloat, especially during the darker years following the fire. She gave him Allison. He regrets not being able to love her the way a husband should, the way she had deserved. But he did love her. God, did he love her. She wasn’t most women. Had he met her at a different time in his life she would have had all of his heart. He’s sure of this. Most of all he regrets that he wasn’t able to save her life either.
Allison. Allison hurts the most to think of, and the least. He thinks of the woman she’s become: strong, courageous, stubborn, loving, compassionate. A leader. He’s happy to leave her knowing she’s safe and capable, knowing that he saw her graduate college and start her life. He walked her down the aisle. He felt the kicking of his grandson against his palm, heard his heartbeat. He got to see her choose her own life the way he was never able to. And although it hurts to leave her without telling her how proud he is, the time they’ve had is enough. Any time she allowed him to have with her would always be enough.
He’s now lost track of time, of how long he’s been lying here. His breathing is becoming more and more labored by the minute; his respirations make a gurgling noise when he inhales. He’s barely aware of the pain anymore. His vision is slowly fading.
It’s now that he finally lets himself think of Peter. Peter. God, even after all these years it still hurt to think of him. He closes his eyes and lets his mind flood with images of Peter for the first time in years, of Peter before the fire, his Peter. The carefree boy with blue eyes and pale skin who had brought light to Chris’ dark world. The boy who taught Chris it was okay to not be his destiny for a while, to laugh and enjoy himself and be a kid. Even just for a day. The boy wolf who showed the hunter’s son how to be human. The wolf who helped create Chris’ code.
Chris always let others think Gerard influenced his love for the code, but all Gerard ever did was recite some lines in a dull voice and that was the end of it. It was Peter who showed him the importance of the words - we hunt those who hunt us. Peter was the one who showed him how human a wolf could be, how loyal, how vulnerable. When you’re around someone enough they start to influence you, the decisions you make, your entire life. It didn’t take long until it was Peter’s voice Chris heard in his head and not Gerard’s.
Chris thinks of the life they could have had. They used to talk of how one day they would buy a couple motorcycles and leave everything behind. They would be each other’s pack.
Then the fire happened.
And Peter was left as a shell, a prisoner in his own body. Those were the hardest years of Chris’ life. He struggled to mourn for someone who was still there, still breathing. He visited Peter in the hospital a few times until it became too hard to look into those blue eyes that were once so full of life and see nothing. When the rumors started that the Argents were responsible for the Hale fire Chris threw up three times before the shaking finally stopped. He left town after that.
For years Chris wondered if Peter would ever come back. Or what Peter would say when he found out his pack had been reduced to three. And more importantly, what he would do.
Then he got the call that Laura Hale was killed.
He returned to Beacon Hills. There was death and more death. And every kill was scattered with ash. Chris should have known, should have pieced it together. It wasn’t until he was standing outside the ruined shell of the Hale house - pointing a gun at his own blood - did it all come together. It made his chest ache to see Peter like that, with his own niece’s blood staining his hands. He watched as Peter Hale was engulfed in flames. Again. He watched as Derek Hale killed the uncle who had once promised him the world. And all Chris felt was peace.
He thinks of where Peter is now. About what comes after death, if Peter was able to escape retribution for his sins. He wonders if he’ll be able to escape his own.
It’s somehow appropriate that he die here. Peter left this world in ashes. Chris leaves it in dust.
The darkness is closing in fast around him. His body is growing cold. He knows he only has to wait a little while longer. He closes his eyes.
He sees Gerard as he once did when he was a still a boy, heroic and just. He sees Kate as a little girl, laughing and carefree, a pigtail loose. He sees Victoria holding their baby girl, a wonder in pink. He sees Allison’s smile.
He sees Peter before the fire, perfect in every way.
A voice calls out.
Chris.
His rescue comes too late. He doesn’t try to call out as he finally let’s the darkness win.
He’s finished the fight and kept the faith.
He takes his last breath.
Chris.
There are things Chris Argent regrets. There aren’t things he would change.
Chris.
He learned a long time ago that you don’t question fate.
Open your eyes, idiot.
Chris opens his eyes.
They meet blue.