There had been a moment when the decision to step onto the Green Mile at that precise time had seemed like the worst idea, she hadn't listened to his fear but she was right. Only two hours before had her footsteps silently tiptoed upon it, seeing a cell vacant and another with its resident in a heavy slumber. Now she knew they had returned, and it was the one moment where everything changed.

"Percy?" She heard Paul's voice, confused and concerned as she stepped quietly onto the mile and looked down at the group crowded round the entrance of John Coffey's cell. Percy's head slowly turned to look at Paul, his vacant eyes and drooping jaw a blank canvas. "Are you alright?"

For a moment it seemed like Percy might indeed be looking back, but then he pushed out his arm with slow carelessness, as though every movement was difficult to process and he broke from the group. His step was sluggish, faltering and without co-ordination and his eyes seemed unable to fix on any point. Until that was, he seemed to catch sight of her shadow which stretched along the mile in front of her. His vacant eyes rose for a second and he seemed to look not at her, but through her and he continued to move. Her stomach flipped with a menacing sickness. She felt she must take a step forward though she did not know if the group at the end watched her or Percy. She needed to move, to take that step, why she did not know but she ought to. And yet, just as he laboured to move each listless step towards her, she could not move a muscle. No one else moved either, in fact no one said a word. Each step Percy took seemed to last minutes beyond the seconds it took, time seemed to stretch and pull around them. All around seemed to darken except that decreasing space between Percy and her.

Suddenly there was a noise, a faint movement and a groan from the one other occupied cell apart from Coffey's, Wharton's cell. Percy was now practically parallel to it yet he took another step or two towards her. His eyes were nowhere, his hands loose at the end of limp arms and when he came to a stop she felt the urge again to step forward. Could she shake him out of this, slap him and wake him from this? Yet her body would not move an inch, she would not take one step to help that devil. She could see every bead of sweat on his sticky forehead, the dribble now congregating at the corners of his lips, his hair soaked and curling at the ends. His pathetic sight made her hate him all the more, the Percy she knew seemed gone and vanished, but this shell still held everything she despised in him.

But in a split second, her glorified disgust of him dimmed when she saw him slowly turn his head to look into Wharton's cell, the eye visible to her which so far had seemed devoid of focus now looked at the inmate who continued to groan on the bed.

"What are you lookin' at?" Wharton croaked with hostility, she saw Percy's head tip ever so slightly to one side like a bird at the sound of his voice. There was a painful pause, why could none of them move? She could sense the foreboding doom in the air yet she didn't know what was about to happen, she feared somehow Percy would willingly walk into Wharton's cell. Hearing the latter rise from the bed he repeated his taunting question, clearer, bolder this time. Why could none of them move?

The events that followed happened so slow and yet seemingly in the blink of an eye, Percy reaching for his pistol and firing several rounds into Wharton's chest. She lurched forward but the sound of Paul's 'no' locked her body to the spot after only a few steps, yet close enough to see the now bloodied, open chest of Wharton stagger back and collapse. Paul, Brutal and the others knocked Percy to the floor in seconds. The sound of Bill's choking seemed to fill her ears, the others murmurs a faint blur in the background. Her eyes dropped to the floor where they scrambled around the listless body of Percy, the man she hated. Brutal's large hand was covering the lower part of his face, searching his eyes. There was nothing, nothing for a moment except the final gasping choke of Wharton before he expired his foul existence.

At last she came forward, seemingly not seeing the collection of officers who she knew like close friends, she saw nothing but Percy's limp body lying on his back, pale and without attention. She could smell the strong ammonia of the urine now leaking in a trickle towards her. Kneeling down near him she tried to rise beyond the smell of excrement and urine and looked at him, still not seeing the others. Percy was so still, so unanimated.

She was forming her lips to say his name, check she was not imagining this for it all seemed so real. Her body leaned over him, no one stopping her when he began to gag and choke, breaking the spell of hope that it was over. He wretched and heaved and she sank back onto her knees, urine soaking her skirt as she watched him writhe there. There were no words that could describe her feelings of horror, terror and even pity when the flies emerged from his gaping mouth framed by white, straining lips. They poured out like steam from a kettle, dense and yet dark as a thunder cloud. She felt like she was being wrapped in a blanket of nightmare so potent that no one but Percy and she were there. All she could see, all she could hear and all she could smell was Percy, this would be another memory with him that would never leave her, the worst of them all. How strange the most nightmarish one would be where he was powerless, all control gone yet more consuming than ever.

The flies dissipated above her, Percy's gasps ceased and he became quiet again, yet all around her seemed cold and she felt isolated there on the cool floor of the mile. The flies seemed to pull away any energy and feeling she had left, her only awareness was that she was now close to Percy's legs, Harry to her side. Unable to take any more she drooped forward and the world became dark.

Beth.

The voice whispered near her ear, the voice that seemed to always be that little bit too near, sour and destructive.

Beth.

She groaned to shush it, hoping it would recede. Her brain acknowledged on the second calling of her name that it was coming from inside her mind, a torment of her own allowing. Her faculties seemed to start returning to her, she became aware of her hands and feet, then the rest of her. Keeping her eyes closed seemed the best idea for now, for that voice had left her feeling anxious and it was not the film she wanted to begin seeing the world through again. Around her she could hear voices, they were a little way off in deep conversation and Beth could not feel like anyone was nearby her. For a moment she wondered if she was in a hospital, then everything came flooding back and the voice's effect on her vanished and was replaced with the overwhelming horror of reality.

Beth's eyes opened and she blinked several times as she was laid beneath the main light of the room. A heavy breath escaped her lips reluctantly and she put her hand up to shield her vision, the voices stopped and footsteps came toward her. The first person she noticed looking at her was Dean, his eyes heavy with all that had gone on, trauma deep set within them. She had a feeling that would disturbance would have a permanent home there in his eyes, he was the most sensitive of them all.

"How you feelin?" He asked, Beth sat up slowly; he put his hand out to help. Still a little sluggish, she accepted without any pride and it wasn't long before Harry came up alongside holding out a tin mug of water.

"Thank you." She whispered, her voice not seeming able to be any louder at this point, the whole affair had brought a gloom and dark shadow about the room. It seemed wrong somehow considering the purpose of the place. Her eyes became more accustomed to the light and she took in a large sip of water.

"Where…" She could not manage the rest, Dean shook his head and replied quietly.

"The hospital. Paul and Brutal are there."

"He's alive." Harry added sombrely. "But he's gone in all else."

"I'm sorry." Dean continued after a moment, he rested his hand on her shoulder but she looked upon the gesture with confusion. She knew he meant well, but did he think she was even remotely sorry for Percy Whetmore? Beth felt it best not to reply, instead accepting the gesture for the kindness it was, they all would know deep down she was not sorry.

"How long have I been here?"

"Around two hours or so." Dean replied.

"I need to make a call." Harry said and Dean nodded, he left the room quietly leaving only the two of them together.

"Boss asked for us to call the hospital when you were awake."

Beth listened but did not fully register this; instead she took in several deep breaths, the air now seemed clearer all of a sudden. Her brain stop whirring with delirium and the room appeared clearer in focus than it had all day.

"Can you feel it?" She said, a little louder now.

"Whadya mean?" Dean asked.

"Since Del… poor Del, everything just hung so heavy and it was his doing…. Suddenly… it's like…"

She didn't answer for a moment, this perturbed Dean.

"Well…" He asked quietly.

"He really has gone."

"Del?"

"Percy."

The phone started to ring, Dean rushed to answer it in the other room and suddenly she was left alone. For a moment she sat pondering then her eyes dashed to the door, she was barely metres from the mile. Without another thought she slipped off the table she had been laid upon, her feet bare. She walked down its cool faded green towards Coffey's cell and stood there. She had walked by the blood stained vacant cell of Wild Bill Wharton, passed the cell of Del's. The great bulk of a man was laid facing the wall, he seemed lifeless and quiet as Percy and Bill had been. Taking the bars in her hands she rested her forehead against them and exhaled deeply.

"God bless you, John Coffey."

Several tears rolled down her cheeks and she began to sob quietly.

John heard her quiet cries in his dreams and slowly he turned on his bunk and looked in the direction of their author, but she was already gone. A pluck of peace came to his heart for a moment, amid all of the vileness of the last few hours and the exhaustion of his miracle one person had blessed his peace.

It was nearly the end now, he would be blessed again.