Whoever told him that experiencing something difficult prepared him to deal with it again was entirely wrong. It had been awful to watch Tanner walk to his own death, allow them to strap him down, and then just accept the punishment they thought he deserved. Never in his life before had he watched someone die. It had been so silent and easy looking for the men who had done it. It made Nathan want to throw up.

He'd already done that though.

They'd had an intermission of a couple of hours between Tanner, and Ian, who they were bringing in now. During that time, Nathan couldn't get the image of Tanner's still body out of his mind. What was worse was the sick look of satisfaction from the woman who left with her lawyers shortly after. They left, but Nathan doubted they were getting away. The dark eyes of Oliver Moceri had followed the woman's back with malice and a twist of his lips into a spiteful grimace.

Under Nathan's shallow fear that the woman would be dead before the weeks end, all that was left in the room was silence. Except for Rachel, who broke down into tears and was flanked by Tim and Halen in an instant, hugging her between them and supporting her as she clutched them and shook in their arms.

That in itself had Nathan reeling. It was only when she'd walked in today that he'd realized she was pregnant. It didn't take much imagination from anyone to figure out who the child belonged to, and even Maggie had covered her mouth with a hand and curled up into a tighter ball. Nathan was so distraught that he still hadn't said anything to her. What was he going to say? What would ease the heart of a girl carrying Tanner's child as they took him away from her.

Nothing.

So, aside from her crying, there was nothing but bitter silence, the scratching of pencil on paper, and the tacking of fingers on keys as the reporters to his right documented the whole affair. That made him grievously upset too, but what didn't today? Someone had to tell the stories of the men who were leaving the world today, and if it wasn't these two it would be others. At least people would know about them, even it was just to sate their curiosity. It was better than them fading into nothing without anyone knowing their names or faces.

Leaning into Donovan's chest, as if the man could dispel any of this, Nathan was doing his best to not imagine breaking the black-haired woman's computer. Regardless of what he thought, the tack-tacking of keys was drumming into his mind a migraine that was worsening each time he had to hear them.

Nathan didn't want to watch Ian die.

All he wanted was his last memory to be of the man smiling, to remember the fun times they'd had, the sad times they'd shared, and the awkward place they'd finally reached together after everything that had been thrown at them.

If he left though, that would be cruel to Ian, so he was sitting here, forcing himself to be present for him. It wasn't like his last memory of Ian was going to be pleasant anyway. Though they had eventually calmed down enough to talk about stupid things for several hours the day before, it had ended the same as it had started–in tears, with Ian being dragged away. It wasn't in Ian to allow them to take him away, and he'd struggled with and cursed at the guards until they had subdued him and marched him back to his cell.

Ian didn't have the strength that Tanner'd had to walk calmly to his death. If it were Nathan, he wouldn't have been able to either. They wheeled him in already strapped into the gurney. Glancing around in panic and anger, Ian had a crazed look in his eyes, full of fear, like a cornered, frightened animal. It made Nathan tremble, and he gripped Donovan's shirt tighter. Donovan said nothing but just hugged his shoulders.

There was nothing to be said. Nothing that would fix this. Months ago, he'd thought that same thing about going to prison. How naïve he'd been to think such a thing. Ian would give anything for more years in a cell.

Only when Ian finally found him and met his eyes, did he calm slightly, but then Ian trembled and tears flooded out from his eyes. They stuck the IV's in him as he was crying, and the entire time Ian shook with sobs that couldn't be heard across the window.

They didn't need the sound.

The visible strain of his muscles as they pulled on his constraints told the story his voice couldn't, showed enough, his grief as the tears slid down and soaked his skin.

"Do you have any last words?" The finally turned on the speakers in the room.

Ian spat at the men but nodded. There was silence for a moment as Ian's eyes melted the ceiling, unable to look at them.

"Fuck... I don't want to die," Ian said to the ceiling tile, his voice cracking.

It raked Nathan's heart with pain as he heard the way his voice broke in desperation. Maggie, sitting behind Donovan, lost her face into her hands, and her tears glinted in the light as they slid through her fingers. Rachel was buried in Oliver's chest in the row behind him now, clutching the man as hard as he was clutching Donovan. The man was the crime head of the Moceris, but Nathan hadn't known that Rachel was so close to him.

It took Ian a minute, but eventually, he pried his eyes from the ceiling. They lowered, shadowed in a darkness and despair that made his ice-blue eyes appear grey and dim. More tears slid down his face, and he laughed. It was clearly hysterical, and it ran the sick feeling in Nathan's stomach up his throat again.

This wasn't how he wanted to see Ian.

"You know that night I got upset and held you to the bed?" Ian said with one of his deranged smirks. Unfortunately, it drew every pair of eyes to him, including Maggie's as she lifted her face from her hands. Ian let out a ragged breath between choking on a sob. "I don't regret that." Ian paused, and his eyes darkened, "I should have flipped you over and raped you." The speaker cut off and the techs exchanged heated words with Ian.

Nathan's blood ran cold as he looked into Ian's dark, terror-ridden eyes. This wasn't the man who'd sat with him calmly the day before, touched him gently, and thanked him for everything. Something in that room had taken that Ian from him, and there seemed to be little left of his sanity. Ian wasn't cruel though, just frightened, overwhelmed, and crushed under the pressure of his end.

While the techs argued with Ian, Nathan lost his face into his hands. His skin heated up in embarrassment, and he had no words for all of the inquisitive looks pinned to him. Nathan wasn't sure which was worse, Donovan's, Maggie's, or the press' stares of confusion and disgust. Still, under his embarrassment, in his hands, he cracked an exasperated smile.

Even on his deathbed, Ian was still Ian–half of the time terrorizing him, but all of it, trying to keep him from his despair and agony. Ian didn't really feel as if he should have taken advantage of him. They'd talked enough about that the day before. Did Ian want Nathan to think he was evil? So that his passing was easier? Under every strange thing Ian had done, there was a motivation that was never said, and Nathan had learned to decipher them better each day.

Ian didn't have to do that, to hide under the labels that defined him, as he'd said.

The speakers clicked on with a dull hum, and Nathan lifted his eyes back to Ian, the pitiful smile still wrapping his own face.

"I've been informed that if I want to finish my last statement, I can't say things similar to my previous words. At least not explicitly." Ian smirked. "Less explicitly, I wish I hadn't had half the morals I did. Because if I hadn't, I think I could have eventually coaxed you into getting on your knees and pity fucking me."

"Sir," the tech snapped at Ian, but he just brushed him off.

Ian laughed then, hard, and it reverberated through Nathan, washing feelings and memories over him. That had been Ian, always smirking, laughing, and accosting him. Even if they hadn't had the same strength, both Ian and Tanner had stayed true to themselves to the end. Through tears and pain, they'd had enough courage to put themselves together for the ones they cared about.

"Hey, goody-two-shoes," Ian spoke to Donovan at his side. Ian's eyes darkened, his eyebrows lowered and shook, and he grit his teeth in sudden anger that had Nathan clutching Donovan where he sat. "If you are half the man that I hate you for being, you will not make him watch me die." The smirk crawled back onto Ian's face as he looked directly at Nathan. "The last face I want you to see is the same one I looked at you with the day we met." There was one last laugh from Ian and then he flopped his head back on the gurney with a low sigh. "Fuck this world, and goodbye, Nathan."

The sentence had started with anger and rage, but had faded to the softness that Ian had always shown him. Punctuating it, the speakers clicked off and they moved to start the process that he'd already watched once today.

Nathan was unable to look away from Ian, but Donovan did it for him. Turning his head into his chest, Donovan clamped his arm around his head, and despite everything Nathan had thought this morning, he didn't want to be the horrible person who abandoned Ian in his last moments. Donovan wasn't giving him a choice though. Nathan struggled in his arms but couldn't turn back toward Ian.

"Nathan." Donovan's word made him freeze. "Both Ian and I know you don't want to watch this. Respect his last wishes, as he respects that you came here, even though he knows you didn't want to. It's all right." Donovan ran his hand through his hair, and Nathan ceased struggling. He collapsed into Donovan's arms, and the tears just wouldn't stop flowing.

Despair washed over him and he held Donovan for the strength to just exist. It wasn't fair that Ian knew him well enough to understand that he didn't want to watch this. Ian was the one person who had understood him completely, known when he needed to laugh, and when he could push too far and hassle him. They had rolled Ian in broken and terrified, but even then, Ian had gathered enough composure for one last fucking hurrah.

The fact that the entire room knew that Ian had forced himself on him meant literally nothing and less. Ian had no one–no friends, no family, no one he particularly connected with... no one but him.

While Ian had eventually given in to playing basketball with them, half the time it had been just so he could watch him move or wait till he wasn't paying attention and grab his damn ass. Still, Ian had cared for him, cooked for him, and spent time with him. When Nathan had been calm, Ian had taunted and teased him, and when he'd been despairing or uneasy, Ian had always placed himself center stage to comfort and console him.

It was clear that Ian had wanted to spend time with him but hadn't always known how to ask. With all Ian had done for him, Nathan had known though, and made sure to find ways. Playing games with Ian one-on-one had helped Nathan get to know him better than anyone, to know his pain and the agony that betrayal had sunk into him. It had been difficult for Ian, but he had shared the painful memories of being beaten, hated, spit at, and worse, all before he'd been sent to prison.

Everyone in Ian's life had rejected him for who he was–his family, his friends, his cellmates, even his housemates. At least they had. It was something Nathan couldn't claw out of his memory, the way Rick's eyes had changed when Ian had refused to abandon him. The lack of understanding in why a human being would give up their life willingly or another. The gun had dropped to the floor before Julian had killed Rick. It was just a moment, granted, but before his end, Rick had conceded to Ian.

Something had conquered Rick's hatred for the man. Perhaps it had been his selflessness, feeding him when he didn't have to, going out drinking with him, or just being there for him sometimes when everyone else in the house turned their backs on him. There had been something there in Ian's heart that had broken through to Rick in the end, but it had been too late to save him.

Buried under all of that rejection, pain, and betrayal, Ian had still smiled with Nathan, laughed with him, and loved him. He'd still had the energy too look someone like Rick in the face and see past the blanket of his vulgarity and spit that had torn Ian's own life apart.

Ian had set it aside.

It took a different sort of strength to still be able to love, even after, for that love, he'd been beaten down and walked on until there was little left of him. Ian had nothing in life, had never actually been able to hold anything dear, but that had never stopped him from reaching, and trying to find a place that he could just be himself.

Nathan hoped that he'd been able to give Ian something, anything that had made him feel like it was okay to be who he was. Not the broken half of a man that had murdered the one he had loved, but the earnest, considerate, and kind–but mischievous–man that he really was.

Word count: 2351 -- Edited July 16th, 2020