Disclaimer: I do not own The 6th Day.

Summary: Johnny Phoenix knows he is a clone, and has become unhealthily preoccupied with the fact that he died. He was kicked off the team because using clones was considered cheating. He locked himself in his apartment, and rarely received visitors. His best friend, Sentia, was the only one who seemed to care, and had been trying endlessly to bring Johnny Phoenix back to life. When she realized he was not willing to try to help himself in return, she gave him one last chance… That chance is now over.

It was the big game… The team was counting on him… The whole world was counting on him…

Yah, that's really going to help me concentrate, he thought to himself.

He had the ball…

He was running…

CRUNCH!

At exactly 2:20 in the morning, for the third night that week, Johnny Phoenix's eyes flew open in shock. Sweat made his clothes cling to his body and trickles of the pesky moisture slithered down his back, causing him to shudder.

He had fallen asleep in front of the huge TV… again. Johnny sat up and leaned forward, letting his aching head fall into his hands. The sounds of a football game flooded the room, streaming from his surround-sound stereo system. He heard his voice call the plays. He waited through a pause, and suddenly all he could hear was the thud. He had replayed this game so often that he never heard the commentary or the screaming crowd anymore. All he could hear was the sickening thud and the cracks and pops that followed.

Johnny lifted his head just enough to see the screen, as he did every time. He watched the man in the suit argue with the doctor. He watched as the doors were closed. He felt cold as he thought about how he had looked. He had looked like a dead man.

Automatically, the video restarted. Eventually, Johnny fell asleep once more.

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The silence was what woke him. Even in his sleep, Johnny could recognize the silence. It meant the game had stopped playing. It meant he had a guest.

When a light turned on a few seconds later, he reached up to shield his eyes. Only one person would bother turning the lights on. Only one person would make it her first priority to turn his game off.

Sentia.

"You awake?" Her voice was like ice.

Johnny slowly opened one eye, still using his hand to block the brightness of the morning. It was definitely Sentia. "Yes."

She watched him in silence for a moment. Apparently she wanted him fully awake and attentive for what she had to say. He had a pretty good idea what she wanted… She wanted to yell at him.

Might as well get this over with, he thought. So he opened his other eye and lowered his hand to his lap.

Sentia still just watched him with her emotionless blue eyes. She never made him squirm for the fun of it. Johnny sat up on his black couch, his guilty brown eyes pleading with her to just come out with it.

When Sentia spoke, she spoke in a whisper, but Johnny could hear her all to clearly in the stillness of his home. "You were doing it again, Johnny." And with that, she flipped her chocolate brown hair over her shoulder, spun on her heel, and stalked into Johnny's kitchen.

Johnny flinched when he heard the noise of pans being removed from their places in random, cavernous cupboards. Sentia was the only one who used them. Reluctantly, he pushed himself to his feet, his muscles protesting the entire way. The walk to the kitchen was hardly bearable. "Sentia, what are you…"

"I told you to stop this, Johnny! You promised me! And I came over to make sure you were still alive and I was hoping to congratulate you and there you are. How many times did you watch it? How many, Johnny! Did it help?" she screamed, becoming furious in her search for a clean bowl.

Johnny knew denying his actions would be pointless, and explaining his reasoning again would make it worse. "I had it on repeat for three days." He expected more yelling and screaming, maybe a piece of fruit flying toward his head, but what came out of her mouth was worse than any words or projectiles she might have chosen to throw at him. It was a sob. Sentia sank to the floor, crying hysterically.

Johnny panicked. What was he supposed to do now? He didn't even know what had caused this breakdown. He hurried toward her and knelt next to where she had collapsed. He reached out to pull her closer, but she slapped his hands away. Johnny sighed and persisted, and this time she didn't bother to stop him. As he gathered her in his arms, she leaned her head against his chest.

"I- I'm trying," she cried, "so hard!"

"Shh… I know you are, Sentia," Johnny whispered.

"I'm trying," she repeated in a voice choked with sobs.

"I know… But you don't have to worry any more. It's my turn. I promise I'll try harder this time… I promise."

The crying became quieter after that. It still took a while for Sentia to recover completely, but she was no longer in hysterics. She sniffed as she escaped his embace and shakily got to her feet. Johnny got off of the floor, watching her wearily, as if she might fall into tears once again.

"Go take a shower and get dressed. I'll make breakfast and then we can go for a walk," Sentia said gently.

"Are you sure you're…"

"I'm fine." She gave him a small, but true, smile.

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Funny how you never outgrow pancakes, Johnny thought as he ate in silence. Sentia sat across the small table, watching people wander the streets of the city below from the window she had opened. He never realized how dark it became in his home until she came and opened the curtains. His gaze had been fixed on his plate until she spoke. He glanced up at her.

"Anywhere you'd like to go, Johnny?" she asked.

"You choose," he mumbled, going back to eating.

"We could go to the park."

He knew she wanted him to make a decision, but he really didn't feel up to digging through his mind for another place to go, so he just said, "Sounds good."

Sentia merely nodded and looked back out the window, finishing her last bite. "Maybe we could go out to lunch, later, too."

She was pushing today. Then again, she could see none of this would get done if she didn't take matters into her own hands. He often felt guilty that this young, beautiful woman had to take care of him. Of course, when he made his guilt known to her, she had just smiled and told him that she didn't have to take care of him, but she wanted to help him. She had also thanked him for the 'young and beautiful' bit, but had pointed out that she was the same age as he was. "Maybe." Though he said it as an option, he knew they would stop and eat, and he knew he would choose where. He could at least do that for her.

When he was done, she cleared the table and began washing the large pile of dishes, which he had dumped in the sink throughout the week, by hand. She told him it was better that way. Johnny came in and helped her. She washed, he dried, and if he had looked over at her, he would have noticed that a few tears, this time tears of joy, were trailing down her cheeks. But Johnny Phoenix was too busy concentrating on the first helpful thing he'd done in months to notice.