The Fall of Forever {A MyStreet FF}

{9}: Death and All of His Friends

TW: graphic description of death

Zack was by no means the best at nearly anything he did.

As a doctor, he was too slow to act fast and too quick to pick up on small detail. Elizabeth somehow seemed to outshine him when it came to medicine.

Though his roots were planted in werewolf heritage, he still had yet to discover what that meant for him.

He was an okay father. He wasn't like his own who was gruff and overly strict. He was there for his daughter, when he had to be. It was hard for him to find extra time for Aphmau.

As a romantic partner, even Michael with his commitment to remaining single came above Zack.

But, when Zack wanted something, he was going to get it. What others called minuscule he would fight tooth and nail for.

Which is why, on one of the coldest nights of that year, Zack stood on the porch of the Ro'Meave family home. He had asked Garte if he could come, late at night so that their conversation could be kept between them without interruption.

He knew but vague details of Michael's plan. He mainly knew that it was in his benefit to play a large role in this circus of manipulation. That's all he needed to know.

Garte opened the door slowly. Zack could immediately see that he was the shell of the outgoing man he once knew. His deep, navy blue eyes had dulled to a dark grey. Dark rings encircled his eyes and his skin was utterly flushed.

That's when Zack realized, it had only been about a week and a half since they had received the prognosis.

"Hi, Garte," Zack smiled as genuinely as he could pull off.

"Hey," Garte stepped aside. "Come on in."

The door clicked as it shut behind them. The sound seemed so much louder than it otherwise would have been during the day. Garte drew a breath in. Forgetting the formalities of taking his coat or offering a glass of water, he led Zack to the living room where the two would quietly discuss the seemingly taboo topic.

They sat down across from each other, both hesitating for a moment. The men were friends, good friends at that. And yet, the distrust was clear. Zack worked for Michael, and Garte was incredibly close with Derek.

"So," Zack said quietly as he situated himself. "How's Garroth doing?"

Garte was stunned by the boldness Zack displayed by asking that question right off the bat. And yet, he appreciated that the subject wasn't danced around. His nerves eased as he remembered that the man sitting across from him was a doctor. He was able to offer any sort of help.

"He's alright," Garte began by giving the response he had been giving for the past week. "Not a lot of change. He's not any better, but he's not any worse."

"That's to be expected," Zack nodded. "How's Zianna doing, then?"

Garte shrugged, "These past couple days have been better for her than before. I think she's just getting used to this new reality."

Zack responded with a nod once again. Unlike Michael, he was able to hide his malicious intent in his facial expressions. Putting on the facade that he cared, listening to Garte vent for moments at a time, they all wove together in his plan to get into Garte's head.

"And you?" Zack questioned.

"Oh, I mean," Garte shifted his eyes to the side, forcefully laughing in an attempt to downplay the situation. "It's been a lot of work, but we're just taking it one day at a time."