I have been trying to avoid spoilers for the S5 finale, but from what I've been unable to avoid, it looks like John dies in the end, as we have been promised since the Pilot. This is my attempt to soften the blow for myself. It comes out of my own Christian convictions – sorry if that offends anyone. Please R & R!
*Edit* Well, it looks like I called it pretty nearly right for the circumstances of John's death, so I've taken the liberty of revising this story just a little to get it into line with the events of the finale. If you're revisiting this story you'll find things just a tiny bit different from what you remember. Not too much, though, and I hope it provides a little bit of comfort and closure.
The target slumped in his chair, a rapidly growing bloodstain on his chest. Kara lowered her pistol, rose gracefully and walked around the table to place her fingers against his neck, tracking the exact moment his labouring heart gave up its struggle and fluttered to a halt. She smiled gently, bent and whispered something in his ear...
"So, Kara – what did you say to that guy?"
They were sitting in their hotel room after the latest job, both half drunk if the truth be told. Kara lifted her glass of wine to the light, studying it. The gesture reminded him of Jessica, but the alcohol in his system shielded him from the usual twinge of pain which accompanied memories of her. Kara smiled again, that exact same gentle smile, before she replied. "Oh, I just told him to move towards the light." She took a long sip of the red wine.
Reese took a sip from his own glass. "Didn't think you believed in any of that stuff."
She raised an eyebrow at him. "I don't. Didn't you ever read about all those near death experiences and all that crap? It's just a physiological reaction in the brain. As the oxygen gets short it starts shutting down, and you get those hallucinations, moving up the tunnel towards the bright light, whatever." She took another sip, draining her glass. "Top-up?" she asked, as she raised the bottle to refresh her own glass. Her stare was bold and amused, as ever. He returned it.
"Don't mind if I do."
POI*POI*POI*POI*
He lay slumped on the rooftop, feeling the blank unyielding stare of the cameras on him. Bloodstains bloomed red on his chest and belly. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. In the end, we are all alone. And no-one's coming to save ya…. Shock was setting in, which was no surprise given the amount of blood he'd lost. At least he'd bought enough time. The Machine's upload to the satellite was complete. Samaritan was going down, and that knowledge brought a solid satisfaction. The end of the line at last, he thought muzzily. Time to find out if Kara was right…
There was a buzzing in his ears, like a million cicadas singing in the trees as the darkness came on. And yes, there it was, the bright light. He began to rise up towards it, slowly at first. Like a rocket off the launch pad, he thought with dry amusement. And he was suddenly aware that like a rocket there was stuff coming off him. Shaw, Root, Bear, Fusco - they were all dropping away into the darkness behind him. I'm losing pieces of myself… Harold went next, and Jessica and Carter and as they did so he was rising faster and faster and the light got brighter and brighter. And all the time he could feel himself being stripped bare, pared down until… until there's nothing left but me…
The darkness was going now, lingering at the edges of his field of vision until finally it oozed away. Only light now. And…. And Something Else. Someone Else. Somewhere in that dazzling light he could sense, feel himself watched. Regarded. The weight of that attention was crushing; for an instant he imagined himself squashed flat as a bug. Then suddenly the scene shifted. He was sitting at a table in front of a window. Sea birds called outside. There was a man in front of him, sitting at the table opposite him with his hands placed flat on the table. Two brown eyes regarded him. Ordinary human eyes. Yet not. In some way these eyes contained the whole universe, effortlessly. Infinite power and knowledge gazed at him. Reese was suddenly struck with a sudden conviction that he shouldn't be just sitting here. Surely, surely the only appropriate posture to adopt with this One was face down at His feet….
He cleared his throat, but no words would come. Those eyes gazing at him. Calm. Not hostile, in the sense that an avalanche bears you no ill-will, just before it crushes you. But there was no hiding now, no bullshit. I know exactly everything about you, Mr Reese… Harold had known a lot, but not everything. He knew now, with a bitter grief, that everything he'd done with Harold, every Number he'd saved, every sacrifice he'd made…. wasn't enough. Could never be enough. He was like the retarded son of a great artist who had ripped up sixty-two of his Father's masterpieces and then tried to give him a crayon scrawl on a piece of old newspaper to make up for it. Some of them deserved to die, he tried to say, but again the words died. So it was your place to judge? That simply piled more guilt on top of everything else.
Still the eyes gazed at him. There was a long silence, broken only by the cries of the birds outside. Reese felt an overwhelming weariness creeping over him. Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. Everything finally out in the open – in a way it was a relief. Finally some words came.
"Well. Whatever You do to me, I'll deserve it. Saying sorry isn't enough, even though it's true. So whatever You decide, well... it'll be what's right." He wished he could cry; for the first time he looked down at himself and was amazed to see just colours, flickering like flames. I'm colours now? Soon to fade and die. That was what happened to colours when the light went away. With everything I've done, I'm going into darkness now… "Okay, I'm ready now. I'm just… thank You for letting me see You. Just once." He raised his eyes once more to meet his Judge's. He was amazed to see a depth of forgiveness and love he had never conceived or imagined shining in those eyes. Somewhere, a missile smashed into a building and his body, which he didn't even need any more, was vapourized. Sighing a little, he relaxed into the wounded hands of God, no longer on the table, cupping him instead. The flickering colours which made him up flared. Brightened. Became whiter than sun on snow. And John Reese soared away into eternity.