Work Text:
“My dearest, Isadora
My love, I have no knowledge of what to say to you in the slightest, but everyone had said that this would help with the pain and it would not hurt anybody or anything in the slightest to try.
I guess, all that I want to say is that, all of the days and all of the nights that I had spent with you, you had always made me feel so right. You were my shining star, my guiding light.
It is just not the same when you are not by my side, you were my inspiration for everything. I promise I shall hold on to every word you had ever uttered to me, because, quite frankly ever since I had met you, you had become my motivation to keep going until the very end.
People always say to me that ‘things will get better’, but no. It never does, no matter how much time passes by. It is becoming one of those harder days again my love. I need you tonight — immensely — but you are not around. I need to hear your voice again, Izzy. I can't bear to forget it.
I wish you were at my door, my love. I need you. So much.
I love you.
Your love,
Rachael <3
—
The brunette wiped the tears off of her face before blotting off the ones that managed to drop to the paper that she had been writing on.
It had been exactly 4 months and 27 days ever since Isadora had been killed by the loose zombie back at Willow Hill. It should have been Rachael’s brain that got eaten, not Isadora’s.
When that alarm sounded the moment Isadora had finished her piece on the piano, Rachael was certain of two things, and two things only: shit was bad, and she had to get Isadora out of there — immediately.
But the redhead — this stubborn werewolf — had merely complied to her lover’s plea for her to stay safe for only about ten minutes before the thought of Rachael being alone in that building with both a Hyde and zombie on the loose, with no weapon, and a wheelchaired patient sent shivers down her spine.
Isadora was thankful that she had gotten to Rachael when she did. Augustus Stonehurst had already been mauled and brainless in the other side of the room when she had kicked down the door of her girlfriend's office, and it was clear that the zombie was going after the brunette next. Isadora had fought him off, leaving quite a number of damaging marks — enough to make the zombie back off and find other victims.
But, like Isadora, the zombie had also left some very deep gashes into her flesh, causing her to slowly bleed out … in front of Rachael.
The brunette was quick to rush to the redhead’s side, sliding her lap beneath the werewolf’s head while both hands slowly caressed her fur.
Both women — well, one werewolf — now had tears in their eyes, treating to fall. Rachael’s breaths shook as she tried to steady herself and just be there for her girlfriend.
Rachael could only whisper sweet nothings into the redhead’s ear while tears fell down her face and into her lover’s fur as she helplessly listened to the werewolf’s heartbeat slowed steadily because the psychiatrist knew, deep down, that Isadora's injuries were too severe to even make to the hospital alive. She couldn't have done anything to save the love of her life, she could only be there and make sure Isadora had her by her side.
As Isadora’s heartbeat weakened more, she had slowly shifted back to her human form, one last time.
They held each other’s faces, both covered with blood — Isadora's blood … and possibly the blood of a couple more people — and shared one final kiss before Isadora’s body had gone limp.
Rachael Fairburn broke that night. And nothing could have ever fixed her ever again.
The brunette shook the memory away as she carefully sealed the letter and kissed the back of the envelope before she had placed it inside of her desk drawer — she would take the letter to Isadora’s grave in the morning when she would visit.
She closed the drawer with a shaky breath as she made her way to her — their — bed and got under the covers. The bed had always felt bigger and emptier ever since Isadora had died. And Rachael absolutely loathed it.
She just wanted her love back.
She just wanted her Izzy back.