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There was a lot that could be said about the horrors Slade had both faced in his life and the horrors he had caused to others, but even Slade had to admit none of that could come close to how he felt now. He had stared death in the face before and watched the life drain out of others, but never once was he afraid of it. He had learned to embrace it and to dance around death as he walked through life, but now he was six feet under. He watched as memories fluttered around him. He watched his worst moments and was forced to relive them as he sank further and further into hell. He was on fire. He knew he deserved what came in the end, but at the same time he didn't understand it. He was scared. He felt scared. He didn't want to die, but no one ever does. No one ever wants to feel the sensation of their life vanishing.
“Shit.. Slade, can you hear me? Ah fuck.. You're burning up.” Muttered a familiar voice as Slade sank further down into his own personal hell. “I should have known that you didn't miss work on purpose.”
“Burning.. Burning.. Burning..” Slade whispered out in an incoherent manner as he thrashed from side to side, unable to free himself from his internal torment as he made one final desperate plea. “Please.. Please..”
It was hard for Slade to understand where that voice came from or who it was, but he found it to be a comfort. He latched onto that sense of comfort as he sank further and further into his own internal hell. He was on fire. He knew he was a dead man even if death itself was not there to finish him off, but as Slade prepared to accept his fate, he felt a sense of relief inside him. There was this coolness that cut through the fire, and it assured him that he would make it, and then came that voice once more. It told him someone was there. It told him someone cared.
“Shhhhhh..” The voice hushed in a manner that one would expect to come from a parent or a partner. “Relax.. You'll be fine.”
“Angel.” Slade muttered when he felt whoever it was touch him, latching onto the cool hand that touched his face with a sense of desperation. “Don't.. Don't leave me.”
It should be noted that the actual situation that Slade was in wasn't nearly as dramatic as the man made it out to be in his head. Alex and Slade were supposed to work on Christmas Eve, and while this wasn't the most ideal schedule, Alex could deal with it. Slade was supposed to be there to assist him with some weapon tests, but the man never showed up, which forced Alex to work later than he was meant to. It sucked, and it had Alex pissed. Alex liked to believe that he was a kind man, but Slade didn't even call, and when he tried to text him to call him an asshole, he didn't even bother to respond. It was that action that drove Alex to check on the man, if not to just call him an asshole to his face, but when he showed up at the other man's apartment, he started to feel unnerved. Slade never came to the door, and after the fourth knock, Alex let himself in. That's when he found Slade passed out on the couch. He had a bad fever, and based on the dried vomit on the floor, it was clear he had been there for a while. Alex knew that it wasn't his place to take care of the man, but it was Christmas, and Slade was alone, so he stuck around and did what he had to do for him. He took care of him. He cleaned the mess and did his best to ease his fever. Slade started to relax the closer he remained to him.
“Slade..” Alex called out as he took notice of how the other man latched onto him, doing his absolute best to free himself, which seemed to cause a more intense sense of distress in the man. “Fine. Scoot over.”
This was not how Alex had intended to spend his Christmas, but Slade needed him, and for once in his life, Alex was fine with that. He remained at the man's side and took care of him for as long as the man needed him. Slade never let him leave.