Micro-Fill: God loves in him. And he in God.
anonymous
May 24 2011, 03:06:33 UTC
"John - John, I - I don't know if you can hear me. The Doctors say you can't but I - well, it's not like they have any empirical evidence so I think I'm within my rights to presume that they're wrong. You'll have to tell me which of us is right when you wake up. I'm sure you'll simply confirm - confirm -."
There's a sound like a sob, buried by the life support machines.
"Sorry, spring outside - I always get these terrible allergies every year and - and - and it's not like you'd know because it's not as if we've ever spent a spring together is it? And my allergies are entirely beside the point. Except - except that - except -. What am I saying? John, get up! You need to wake up because it's Spring outside and my allergies are terrible and I think you ought to go make me some tea.
"... or, I suppose I could make you tea? I make rubbish tea - Mycroft always complained that it was too bitter and Mummy said it was too sweet. Mycroft takes even more sugar in his than I do. You should - that is, we should have him over for tea some time and make him taste test different cups to determine how much sugar you need to cover the taste of cyanide or -. Or... no. You wouldn't like that very much would you?
"Look, John, please just get up now? You've made your point. Really. I - I won't go running off like that again. I'll sear it - on - on whatever you'd like. Your bible maybe? Does it count if you're the only one who believes? I don't - I mean I -. Look, there's no evidence of God, John! I can't - I mean, not even you can -"
The sound of a hand, slamming down on a bed. Another sob
"If there's a God, he'd let you live."
The softer sound, of one hand taking another.
"Please, God, let him live."
In the infinite silence comes the passage of hours. In the wake of the hours, comes dawn.
There's a sound like a sob, buried by the life support machines.
"Sorry, spring outside - I always get these terrible allergies every year and - and - and it's not like you'd know because it's not as if we've ever spent a spring together is it? And my allergies are entirely beside the point. Except - except that - except -. What am I saying? John, get up! You need to wake up because it's Spring outside and my allergies are terrible and I think you ought to go make me some tea.
"... or, I suppose I could make you tea? I make rubbish tea - Mycroft always complained that it was too bitter and Mummy said it was too sweet. Mycroft takes even more sugar in his than I do. You should - that is, we should have him over for tea some time and make him taste test different cups to determine how much sugar you need to cover the taste of cyanide or -. Or... no. You wouldn't like that very much would you?
"Look, John, please just get up now? You've made your point. Really. I - I won't go running off like that again. I'll sear it - on - on whatever you'd like. Your bible maybe? Does it count if you're the only one who believes? I don't - I mean I -. Look, there's no evidence of God, John! I can't - I mean, not even you can -"
The sound of a hand, slamming down on a bed. Another sob
"If there's a God, he'd let you live."
The softer sound, of one hand taking another.
"Please, God, let him live."
In the infinite silence comes the passage of hours. In the wake of the hours, comes dawn.
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