A/N: Okay, I have no clue where this came from…If the people seem out of character, don't worry, it's just the way I picture people (I tend to distort people) so yeah…Not mine! Don't sue me! Warning, this is based on the book, and it takes place after Johnny's Death (duh duh dum…) and I – yet again- have no clue where this came from. Also, Your horoscope says, "If you review, you shall be blessed beyond your wildest dream." Hmm…who are you to mess with fate? Heh, heh, heh…

Bruce

Bruce was sitting at home alone. His feet were tapping nervously, and he kept absently wiping his lips. There was no trace of his usual laugh, and his laugh crinkles seemed to have smoothed out. He had spent a few hours (though he wouldn't admit it to anyone, except maybe Sarah) weeping silently, but his tears had finally dried up. He just sat on his couch, phone by hand.

Sarah had called him after seeing the morning paper, weeping hysterically. Bruce had tried his best to comfort her, but he was in shock, having seen the paper himself. He thought, on reflection, he had probably upset her more; Johnny had always been better at that… but Johnny wouldn't be here, not now, not ever.

"God," Bruce moaned, "how could you take Johnny?" He felt tears trying to swim to the surface, and brushed them away viscously. He didn't want to cry anymore.

He put his head in his hands, concentrating on breathing normally. He glanced to his left, and his eyes landed on his phone, the one that he had talked to Johnny on so many times.

Bruce stared at it for a while, a weird urge surfacing. He thought it would be insane (what if someone found out and told the press?) but slowly he decided it wouldn't hurt.

He leaned over and picked up the phone. He stared at it for a moment, lips pursed. He dialed a familiar number, clearing his throat.

The other line rang once…twice…three times…four times…

Bruce was about to hang up, when there was a click and a beep.

Johnny's voice, alive and happy, filled his head. "Hey, you've reached Johnny Smith. I'm not here right now, but I'll try to call you back if you leave a name, place, number, and time after the pretty little beep. Talk to you soon!"

I don't think so, dude…Bruce thought.

*beep*

"Uh, hi." Bruce cleared his throat, suddenly feeling very foolish. "This is…this is Bruce. I just wanted to say…ah, screw this. Johnny, why didn't you tell us about the tumor? It was a simple operation! Sure, you beat Stillson, but you didn't have to do it that way! Did you? I don't think so! Just think of what you're putting Sarah and JJ and…and me through! We need you!"

Bruce put a hand to his temple, and massaged gently. "I must sound pissed, and that's not how I wanted this to go. Do you know how I found out about what you did? The paper! How's that for a wake-up call? I came downstairs for a bowl of cereal, maybe some eggs, and there you were on the front page. Hey, at least you made the front page…"

Damn, he thought, wiping away the tears that had been blurring his vision. "Sarah called. She found out the same way. You know what bugs me? The fact that no one bothered to call. Not the hospital, not the coroner, no one. We found out through a dirty piece of paper that will be lining the kitty-litter boxes across America tomorrow. No one told us. Man, how sick is that?"

The clock on the wall said that Bruce had been talking for a few minutes, ranting really. He knew that Johnny's machine would cut him off soon, so he sighed and cut to the chase. "I guess I just called to say a final goodbye. It just gets under my skin that you didn't bother to let me know what was wrong with you… I didn't get to say goodbye, and I didn't get a chance to hear your latest hair-brained scheme. I realize you probably thought I would try to talk you out of it, but who cares?" Bruce held his breath, considering what to say next. "So, here it is: my last message on your machine. Goodbye, and I'll probably see you around. Oh, and dude: I love you, man, so rest in peace or I'll kick your butt."

Bruce hung up, smiling slightly. Johnny would have liked that ending, he was sure of it. He stared out of the window into his front lawn, and, in his mind's eye, he could see Johnny limping along with that cane of his and laughing. He could really almost hear the bright laughter of the damaged man…of the dead man.

Bruce sighed again, then went back to his spot on the couch. He felt better now…like he had fulfilled his duty as a friend. I thought he would pick up. I really expected him to answer and say, "Yellow?" in that way of his… Bruce thought, chuckling nervously.

He sat that way for a while, then grabbed his coat and headed out the door. He decided to head to one of Johnny's favorite chow spots, in honor of his late friend.

A/N: Okay, this is based on the book AND the series. I have a strange idea for an ending, but first I'm gonna leave Johnny a few more messages…IF you listen to your horoscope and press the pretty blue button (a.k.a. review!) please!