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Chuck Shurley: that beardy dude with the laptop. (capriciousgod) wrote in wariscoming,

It was his fault, though, she didn’t understand and he didn’t either, he didn’t get why he was supposed to die tonight, why now, why anyone had to be out here and dying tonight. God was mean, he decided, haze starting to creep back, He was mean because Chuck had done what he was supposed to do, he’d written everything down and he still got screwed over, he did everything they wanted him to do and when he finally was finished he didn’t even get a reward, just Croats and inventory and death before he got to marry Jo or meet his child. That just wasn’t fair.

“We should’a gotten married,” he blurted, coughed a little and tried not to be sick at the taste of blood, “I’d... it’d be better, we’d, I’d be able to find ... what if I can’t...” He wasn’t making any sense and he knew it. It was hard enough to talk, in the first place, when he hurt so bad and he was so close to panic (was she crying, or was it raining? Something wet was on his face, something that wasn’t blood) - and he didn’t know how to explain the sudden fear that came over him: what if he couldn’t find her in Heaven? If he even went there, if there even was a Heaven anymore, he didn’t know but... but he needed her to be with him, there, or it would suck, even if it was perfect. He didn’t know how to find her, or if she’d be able to find him. If they’d been married, he was sure they’d have been together there, but...

The thought disappeared just like it had arrived, and he watched her drop the phone with a sinking feeling that managed to come through despite the pain that was still slamming into him in waves. She was trying to be strong and reassuring, she wanted him to fight, but he’d never been good at fighting, didn’t she know that? She should have known that.

He wasn’t going to make it.

“I love you,” he started, tone still frantic, “I’m sorry, I didn’t want to leave you I just, I. I can’t, I’m not gonna make it, I know I’m.” Dying, you’re dying. This is how it really happens. It’s not glamorous, it’s not exciting, it’s not anything like you wrote it to be. There are no grand, deep revelations, it doesn’t feel like you’re floating. It’s sad, and it hurts, and it’s terrifying.

“Jo?” He clutched at her, bloodied hand and clean hand both, not thinking about getting his blood on her, not thinking about stains and the limited amount of clothing or detergent strong enough to get the blood out, just reaching out because he didn’t want to leave her but he didn’t know how to fight it anymore.

His grip went slack - lifeless and limp - a moment later.