FanFic100: #079 When?
“When my time comes, forget the wrong that I've done
Help me leave behind some reasons to be missed
Don't resent me, and when you're feeling empty, keep me in your memory
Leave out all the rest, leave out all the rest.”
Linkin Park, “Leave out all the Rest”
This is the end. It can’t be anything else. So often he’s been close to it, but this is it. There’s no way he’s going to get himself out of this. So many things are going through his mind right now. So many… and so few. It feels like he’s trying to think of a million things and nothing in the same moment. Like…
Oh God, it hurts. He can’t even pinpoint it… it’s just all over his body. He can’t even open his eyes to try and find out where he is. All he can do now… is wait until it’s over, once and for all. And while he’s doing that… stuff keeps coming back to him… stuff he thought he’d almost forgotten. Like back in 6th grade when his nine year old sister had nearly spoiled his first big-boy-birthday. He hadn’t really forgiven her for that for nearly five fucking years, and suddenly he’s sorry for it.
Or back in his Academy times, when he’d been home on leave and had caught his ex-girlfriend making out with his former best friend. Obviously they’d gotten to know each other fairly well in his absence. Back then, all he had done was turn around on the spot and never even come near the girl’s house again. He now regrets not having decked that guy or at least told her that this really wasn’t the way to give courage to the fighting men.
It’s so ridiculous, the stuff that comes back to you in your last hours. If someone had asked him before, he would have always said it were the big things you regretted not having done - like never going on a journey around the world or never becoming a father… or a husband… all those great adventures. But he doesn’t regret that. If he still had the strength, he would actually laugh about that. He really only regrets all the small things.
Like, for example, leaving the mess hall two nights ago, instead of staying and sharing a beer with Lieutenant Cadman. But no, he had to practically flee the mess hall as she suddenly appeared, because lately he’s been having strange feelings whenever he saw her. Well, at least that’s solved now.
Shocked at how grim his sense of humor has become, he finds himself coughing, and for a minute he feels like he’s finally free of all the pain and the regret and the suffering, but then his breath calms down. Wheezing, but getting a little more even. God, he wants it to end, and he hates the waiting. Was it like that, he wonders? Did his father feel like that when he died in Vietnam, buried in the debris of his helicopter, waiting for someone to come and rescue him, hour after hour?
And will he be missed like his father was? God, the thought of not being missed hurts almost more than his maimed and marred body. What will they think of him? Will they even find him? What wouldn’t he give now for a teeny, tiny glimpse into the future, to see when this torture will end and he will be free of gnawing thoughts and regrets and what-ifs… just knowing that it will be over soon would make it all easier to bear now.
“Sir, he’s down here… oh God, he’s really down here!” Great. And now he also starts hallucinating a voice… Cadman’s voice. “Yeah, yeah, bring the engineers and fast.” And light… isn’t that the one thing you shouldn’t walk towards? But it’s were Cadman’s voice is coming from… and if he has to go, going with hearing her voice is certainly one of the best ways to do so.
“Good God, he’s still alive! Must have been an air pocket where he survived.” Hey, what’s Sheppard doing in his hallucination? Why couldn’t he have only Cadman? Can’t his mind shut down enough to ignore him being a soldier just for once and let him die with a lovely voice instead? “What are you doing… Cadman, stay here!” Yeah, stay here, Cadman. Stay here and make it easier to go…
“I’m good, sir. I just have to… Major Lorne? Sir, can you hear me?” Holy crap, is every mind at the brink of death as imaginative as his? Now he’s even starting hallucinating to being touched. “Come on, I know you can. You’re a stubborn son of a bi… I mean, you’ve got stamina enough for two Marines.” Wow, and now his mind is starting to… “Aw, fuck it. You owe me a beer, and I ain’t letting you go before I didn’t get it. No one flees the scene when Laura Cadman arrives. You can run, but you can’t hide.” No… no, there’s no way his mind could be making this up. It just way too… Cadman.
“Wasn’t… runnin…” Another cough wracks his body and he feels himself steadied by a pair of female, but strong hands.
“Hey, hey, easy, sir. And you were running. But you’ll be stuck in the infirmary for half an eternity now. It’s not a question anymore if you can repay your beer dues, but when.” God, how he hopes that he doesn’t imagine this hopeful undertone in her voice… and the hand gently stroking his dirty and bloodstained cheek.
“Any… anytime.” A finger is put on his lips.
“Shut up now, you’ve proven yourself enough. Just concentrate on staying alive.” Concentrate on staying alive… yes, he can do that. Now that there is a chance he might still get to do all the things he hasn’t done yet - the big things and the small things - and leave some reasons to be missed behind, concentrating on staying alive seems to be so much easier all of a sudden.