A/N;;

This story has been sitting in my mind for months, and I fear if I don't post it now, I never will. Please review; Harsh, nice, I don't care, I just would really like feedback to help get my ideas straight in my mind.

Disclaimer;; I own nothing but the mistakes.

Finally, a smile touched his face as he laid his head back against the cold ground.

It was no where near as friendly nor as cheery as any smile could have been; With teeth bared only slightly and lips pulled taught, it looked more like a grimace to others who saw him, though no one bothered to pay any attention to the prone figure sprawled out on the floor. He was in a whole world of pain, and he was being ignored. Truly, this was the world he remembered. A shame, though he knew that none of it really mattered anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. Not to him.

He took a breath, opening his eyes a crack and staring above him, feeling his chest rise and fall quickly, lungs working desperately to keep his heart beating. An exercise in futility.

"I'm so sorry…" He mumbled between breaths, surprised to find his voice quiet, surprised to find it was so hard to breathe. Was it supposed to be like this? He had seen it many times, but it felt like there were hazy memory around each time, making it impossible to piece the memories together.

Maybe that was for the best. He had spent so much time trying to forget.

Even death had its perks.

This thought elicited a soft laugh from the man, the noise coming out as little more than a gurgle in his throat, the blood rapidly filling his lungs and throat spilling out over the side of his mouth as he tried to move his head to see what was going on around him. He must of noticed the liquid spilling from his mouth, as he managed to lift one arm cautiously to his face, marveling at how heavy his arm had become as he touched a gloved hand to the substance. Moving it away, he studied his hand with his remaining good eye, the other clouded and pale, nearly white with blindness. Red. So red. The color that had soaked his coat, his life… How appropriate it would permeate his death.

Had this been any other time, he would have been worried about the rapid approach of his own demise. But he wasn't. Would never be. It doesn't matter anymore.

Nothing mattered anymore.

There's no happy ending, so they say.

Nothing he had done in his entire life. None of it. All of it, undone by a simple move. Why had he done it? Because he wanted to? No, that couldn't be it, too simple, much too simple. Because he could? He had always been the one to test what he could and couldn't do. Was that why he had pulled this insane stunt? Just to test himself? If so, it was certainly a dumbass move on his part. But, then again, maybe it wasn't.

Around him, he was faintly aware of people yelling, voices and rapid footsteps, the crashing of objects forcefully meeting other objects. A cacophony of fear, ignorance and panic. If red was the color of his life, certainly this was the soundtrack. Every memory that flooded his hazy mind, every image was highlighted by screams and running, crashes and crunches and cracks. Blood red. Red red red, all of it.

Shifting his body a few inches, he attempted to lift his head, trying to see what was going on, trying to see if it was working. Doing so was futile; As soon as he moved, pain shot through his entire being, causing his back to arch and his head to tilt back and earning a gasp from a man who didn't have much more air to give up. Pain. Well, at least he finally felt something.

Keep your head up…

He had spent his entire life fixing the mistakes of others. Righting the wrongs. Scratching and clawing his way to the top, only to… To what? Finally maintain some balance of control, only to watch it all slip away from him? No, not even that, to give it all away? Give it all away to one stupid stunt.

One stupid stunt that would fix only one mistake?

What a crazy random…

Was it really all that stupid? Part of him said yes, the part that was silently cursing him, the part that had been dominate for so long. The other part of him said no, a part he had been so sure was dead, it was surprising to feel its influence once again, the influence that was slowly overtaking the other.

Feeling. How alien.

He didn't have to think about it any longer. Wouldn't be able to think about it, judging by the rapidly enclosing darkness overcoming him like a blanket, covering his gun, his coat, his goggles, wiping them all clean away with practiced ease that came with years of experience, no extra care given to this special case.

Even in the darkness…

Was it worth it?

Another grimace and a gurgle. His shattered mind relaxed as it reached a final conclusion, his body easing with it. Just relax and enjoy the ride.

And know the answer is yes.