He cried out as his back was forcefully pinned against the wall, his head now throbbing. And then, he had found himself cornered in the abandoned room. Nothing around him other than stiff crates, stale air and broken pipes. The door was over there, but the spectre was right here. And there was no getting around it. As he reached for one of the pipes, desperate for some sort of weapon, a flash of light blinding him and illuminating the darkness of the entire room blasted towards him, knocking it out of his hand all while burning his flesh. Pained, he grabbed his wrist and took another step backwards—only to be reminded that there was a slab of concrete behind him. Nowhere to go, nowhere to run.
"Quickly!" he could hear echoing from outside of the room, down the hall and towards the laboratory, where the others were on Lyoko rushing to the tower. And him, well he was stuck here. Cornered against the wall. Just him, and a silly little spectre. They didn't seem to attack much—they just wanted the source codes. So maybe he would be okay.
Except, he didn't have any codes.
So then what would a spectre want with him?
…To get rid of the person that kept sending everyone to Lyoko.
"Come on!" he heard again, and wondered why it was they were taking so long. With his heart racing and his hand going numb, he looked up to see the spectre raising its fingers at him. And then another burst of electricity, knocking him to the ground. He couldn't help but cry out.
After that, the icy, lifeless touch of the spectre against his shoulder, and another shriek as voltage he couldn't take surged throughout every inch and every nerve. A long, drawn out wail.
But then the spectre disappeared, and everything was dark again.
"Jeremie?" he could hear the same voice as before, but more muffled this time. "Jeremie! Oh, no!"
Footsteps rushing towards him. He thought he recognized the voice, but all he could hear was the ringing in his ears and the soft groans from his own mouth. Everything hurt. Even something as soft as her hand against his torn shirt, gently rolling him over so he was lying on his back.
"Aelita?" he managed to spit out. He wasn't sure if the image hovering above him nodded her head yes or no, but it sounded like her. And it felt like her, when he reached up and rested his hand against her cheek.
"Is he going to be okay?" Another voice. Maybe Odd.
"A return to the past—quick!" She demanded. But there was no response, only silence. "What? Why are you staring?!"
"We—we never fixed it. After it was sabotaged."
His heart sank. Damn it, Laura.
"What do you mean we never fixed it? Why not!"
And the soft, warm skin of her cheeks had suddenly been replaced with a stream of tears. No longer could Jeremie manage to hold his arm up, and he let it collapse against the ground. His vision was cloudy, his head was throbbing and every square inch of his drained body was burning. Like a thousand knives being stabbed into him—over, and over, and over again.
"You'll be okay, Jeremie." Soft whispers. They felt nice, and calming, compared to the thudding against his ear drums. "Stay awake, okay?"
He couldn't keep his eyes open. Everything hurt too much and even with as dark and ugly as the room was, everything was too bright. In fact, it felt like his surroundings were only getting brighter.
"Jeremie, no!" He felt his hand yanked off of the ground, clasped in between her own and peppered with kisses. Wet ones that mixed with the tears pouring out of her eyes. He wanted to respond, to say something, but every time he opened his mouth all he could do was moan.
"What are we going to do?"
"He'll be fine!" She was growing angry, and he couldn't tell why. He hoped she wasn't angry at him. It wasn't her fault.
"Hey," he mumbled, with her attention immediately snapping back towards him. His eyes barely opened. No matter how much it hurt to focus, he had to look at her. To be able to see the glimmer in her emerald eyes and the smile on her porcelain face. "Remember when I first turned on the computer?"
She smiled. That was what he was waiting to see. That was the last thing he wanted to see. "Of course," she answered. "How could I forget?"
"The look on your face then. Kind of like the one on your face now." His voice was weak and quiet, and her laugh was soft. There was more silence for a while. She sat on her knees before him, looking down at him even though he didn't quite have the energy to keep his eyes locked on her. And after a long, quiet moment, he spoke once more. "I love you."
And her smile washed away. She shook her head. "No. No, you're not saying goodbye. No."
The corner of his mouth ticked into a slight smirk, fading as he emitted more pained grunts. But it wasn't so bad anymore, really. The pain was getting better, and he was getting tired. Maybe he could just close his eyes for a bit, to rest, and then he would wake up and be well again.
"Jeremie? Jeremie, wake up!"
Yes, he would just rest for a bit. And then all would be well. No longer could he hear her cries, the sounds of his friends, and the feel of her fingers running through his hair.
Everything would be okay when he woke up.
But the look on her face just before letting his eyes fall shut was the last thing he ever saw.