Miles' POV, 30 years after the events of "Third Star".

I've always thought James was wrong.

Oh, I wouldn't have said it at the time. God, they all would have hated me if I did, even though they agreed with me. It was his choice and I wouldn't try to take that away from him. Hell, I supported his choice when Davy and Bill didn't think we could see it through. But I still think he was wrong.

The thing is, control is an illusion. I know that James felt out of control, or controlled by the morphine and the cravings for it (God, I know that so very well now) but the reality is that he was still making his own choices, living his life. Life isn't just the planned parties, the planned trips, the plan to plant a tree. Life is what happens on the way as well. Life is when you see a bar fight between your friends and some strangers and you decide 'what the hell' and drive your cart through the middle of it. Those moments can't be planned.

And life is formed by the choices of those around you. When the cart went over the cliff, and we decided to go on anyway. When we took turns carrying James in order to make it there in the end – that wasn't part of the plan. And yet I wouldn't have missed those moments for anything. That's the kind of moment you just can't prearrange.

If he hadn't decided to take his own life right then, who knows how many more moments he might have had? I know he feared pain and drug dependence (I do myself) but there would have been other moments for him, if he had decided to go on. He might have seen my wedding with his sister, my adoption of his nieces. He might have made it to the birth of Bill's child. He definitely would have had unpredictable, brilliant moments which none of us could have foreseen.

Because that's what life is, that's what life does. Life takes us by surprise with amazing, fragile and totally unforeseeable moments. We are all fireworks shooting through the sky over a beach for the momentary joy of those watching. Why lose even a single sparkling moment?

You're probably wondering when the hell I got so deep and meaningful, and what gives me the fucking authority to hold forth about life and death and everything anyway? You're probably thinking 'how the hell would he know anyway?' Well, I do. It's my turn now. We are a lifetime away from that beach (literally one James lifetime) and I've had plenty of time to think about it. If I were facing cancer, if I were dying, how would I want to go?

At the last possible minute.

I'd squeeze every last drop out of my life and I wouldn't go until I were dragged out of life by the heels. I'd fight, I'd take the damn drugs and to hell with the side effects – I'd take them all for one more moment of sweetness with my friends, my wife, my daughters. The darkness will come soon enough. I won't let it come a moment sooner than it has to.

How do I know? Because it's what I already do. I don't have to imagine how James felt facing death. It's my turn. I respect his example and his choice, but I won't follow him. If this life is all there is, then I'm going to suck out every last bit of pulp before my tongue is stilled by death.

James chose to trade those last few moments for the time and place of his choosing. He traded the sweets of life for control over his death. I supported that choice and enabled him to make of his death what he wished.

And I still say that James was wrong.

So yeah, this is somewhat autobiographical, but hey, fan-fiction is what you make of it, yeah? Thanks to whoever recommended watching "Third Star" – it was an interesting journey. And for those who have followed my other pieces of writing, you'll understand how excited I was that my oncologist is "Dr Holmes"! Your reviews, positive thoughts and prayers are always appreciated.