HER UNMOVABLE OBJECT

They say that when you are close to death you see your whole live in front of you, that in the very last moments you have time to reflect on all the things you have or haven't done. As a scientist I've always believe that to be fake. When you are on the verge of death, when you are bleeding out, you feel every second of it. Your organs slowly shut down, to try to keep you brain oxygenated. You feel paralyzed, because blood it's leaving your legs so you can't move, can't think, because even with your whole body working for it, your brain is not getting enough blood and yet you feel every painful second of it.

If you are lucky you may pass out and when you get to the point of no return you just slip through, without a care in the world, if you are lucky enough you won't feel a thing. One moment you are alive and the next you are gone.

However he wasn't so lucky.

3 hours earlier

The party is on full swing. I can hear everyone cheering and singing as I slowly make my way up. I could have taken the lift, but after so many months living in cramped quarters I feel no rush to enter a tiny metal box, so I take the stairs instead.

As I reach the third floor the cheering intensifies bellow me, I can feel their happiness filtering through layers of concrete, bricks and metal. Like a disease, trying to infect me, I can feel it, trying to get a hold of me, but I know that, with what I have to do there is no place for happiness.

I step on his floor and he is there, 10 meters in front of me, I was not expecting that. I'm paralyzed. He must have been about to step into his room, but I must have make some kind of noise, because he stops and looks up to me. For a moment, when he looks at me its like we are back at the beginning, there is no pain, no regrets in his eyes. His eyes look at me and I can feel the love and affection that is there, that was there. It only last for a moment. After that, it's like flipping a switch, I can pin point the exact second when everything comes back to him. The love and adoration are replaced, no, not replaced but buried. He stares at me, his eyes hard like he suddenly doesn't recognize me, like the person he is seeing now and the one he saw in that very first second, right before everything came back to him, doesn't quite match. The only thing on his eyes for me now is pain, regret and something akin repulsion, everything else buried so deep that I don't know if he even remembers it was once there. So deep that I don't think I have the strength to dig it out.

That's why what I'm about to do is necessary, even if every step is ripping my heart apart.

"Rachel" I've always loved the way he says my name. It just fits. "What are you doing here?" He is walking towards me now, and I'm still paralyzed.

His hand grabs my arm. I can see the worry tainting his face now

"Are you ok?" He is worried. That's bad. For this to work he can't be worried about me. After the way he looks at me now, he doesn't have the right to be worried.

"Michener gave me ones of his pardons" my voice shakes, and I can feel his hand tightening on my arm, like he thinks if he doesn't hold me I'll slip away. He has reasons to believe that I guess, he just doesn't know them yet.

He is smiling at me now, he shouldn't, this is not going to be a happy memory for either of us. And yet, he is smiling. Oh god, I love his smile.

"There is no one who deserves it more"

I actually snort at that "and yet I can't seem to gain yours"

I should not have said that. But at least I successfully wipe the smile off his face. This is not the way I wanted to handle this, and yet I can't help but feel a bit proud, enjoy it a bit, I've suffer so much the last weeks, he's made me suffer so much. His hand is tightening around my arm again; I try to shake it, to shake him away. He doesn't let me.

"Rachel, that's not f.." I can't let him finish; if I do I'll never say what I need to.

"Really Tom? Of course is not. He killed 6 billion people, and I'm the one being punished. Life is not fair" he tries to talk again; I raise my hand to make him stop. I can see the shocked look on his face right before it's replaced by anger. He is used to being in control, to everyone listening, but right now I'm the one calling the shots.

This time I manage to shake his hand away, he left it there hanging between us. Not quite reaching but not quite letting me go either.

"I'm leaving in the morning, Michener is going to ask for volunteers to spread the cure in remote areas. I'm leaving with them"

As my words register, emotions dance over his face. He doesn't say anything, by the look in his face I don't I think he knows what he wants to say. After a few seconds, he finally manages to say something. I wish he hadn't, every word cuts through all my barriers and I can feel myself slowly losing all the resolve I have left. This conversation has to end now.

"Rachel, that's, you can't. You can't leave, we need you here, it's not safe".

"This has never been about being safe." I turn around, fully prepare to go, but there is still something, something he said. If I leave now I'd be abandoning him, because he does not understand, not yet. He has to understand.

"And need me Tom? Who needs me? Who is you? Is it The James? Society? Michener? You? Do you need me? Do you even want me here? Do you even know what you want?"

He is not answering, but his face is saying enough. He doesn't know the answer, he can't answer. Ironically, that's all the answer I needed.

I put more space between us. I begin walking towards the door. Walking forward, rebuilding. "This is a goodbye Tom"

With a last look at his face I turn around, it feels like I'm finally letting everything behind me. This time I do take the lift; I know it's the right decision. I know what I just did needed to be done, but that doesn't make it hurt any less. I still need some time to regroup, to cope. After all, I just took the other part of my heart and shattered it in a million pieces.

This is a goodbye Tom

Those words are still echoing inside of me as she turns around and leaves. I know I have to stop her. To say something. She can't go like that. She just can't go, can't leave me. I can't let her go like that.

But for some reason, the only thing I can do its stand here.

I'm paralyzed, I feel broken, like someone took my whole world, spun it around in the wrong direction and then left me there to pick up the pieces. I guess that's the best description for what just happen.

As a military man I've been trained to anticipate, to be 3 movements ahead of anyone. But not with her. I could never anticipate her. She blindsides me, no one ever trained me for her. I guess there is no military training for someone crushing your heart.

The whole conversation is playing on my head, over and over again

Do you need me? Want me here?

I know that was my cue to say something, to stop her. My only chance. My last chance. But I couldn't. It feels like she just changed the rules of the game, and I didn't even know we were playing.

Remote areas. That's what makes me snap out of it. In my head, and I know in hers to, that means dangerous. That means Immunes.

I can't let her do that.

Suddenly, everything comes back to focus again. I hear the noises of the party bellow; I can feel the roughness of the wall under my hand. I hadn't even realized I was holding the wall. Or better yet, the wall was holding me. It makes sense, I guess, when someone takes your axis, your reason for being; you need something to hold on.

My shirt collar it's too tight, it's suffocating me. My skin feels too tight, like I'm being compress through a tiny tube and nothing fits quite right. Everything is messed up, sound, images, texture; everything is upside down, inside out. Like I'm hyperaware of everything, but nothing makes sense, with Her gone, Rachel gone, everything is wrong.

From some corner of my mind, somewhere deep where I'm still coherent, where the pain hasn't reached yet, I can hear a voice telling me calm down. It's my own voice. Calm down Tommy, you are having a panic attack, breathe. My father's voice.

There is a sudden noise, louder than the ringing of my ears and the sound of my breathing. It sounded like a car hitting concrete, and then something crushing, snapping, breaking. Someone groans too. But it's just me here. It's me groaning. I'm facing the wall now, the same wall that was holding me up seconds ago. And my hand is embedded in the wall, I realize the car was my hand, the breaking snapping thing too.

My right hand it's now deep into the wall, like it belongs there, only I know it doesn't. Only I know it's wrong. A second later the pain registers. It shots up my arm, like an electric current. It makes me grit my teeth and I groan again.

Without thinking about it, without my brain giving any conscious order I hit the wall again. And again. And again.

I know it's not a solution, but the pain, this pain, makes me forget about the Other. I welcome it. It makes me forget about my heart ripped apart, about my world spinning around without an axis. It makes me forget about Rachel, and about the last two minutes we just share. Oh god, she can't go.

Something filters through my pain-induced blindness. I'm hitting the wall, crying. I don't remember crying. But there is something else. A humming noise. It's the elevator, the guy in my head says. My dad's voice, or maybe me, maybe it's my voice. It doesn't matter. I almost forgot about him, but I'm glad he didn't forget about her.

Rachel. Rachel took the elevator. With that thought I put my hand out of the wall. And it's like it spits me out, I stumble backwards a little, but somehow I manage not to fall. I manage to stay up while everything it's still sinking down.

She took the elevator, so I take the stairs.

As I run up, military training kicks back in. They don't just teach to think ahead, they also teach you to think forward. To plan.

And I realize this is not my last chance. In every scenario there is always something that you can do to win, to walk out alive. Breathing. When someone points a gun at your head, you don't sit down and wait for him to pull the trigger. You grab the gun and point it back at him. Or you do one of the other three thousand things you can do. But you do not get a bullet in your head.

You can call it plan b, c, d. It doesn't matter. They could call it plan X for all I care, because that means this is not my last chance. I still have one more shot. One last shot.

I reach Rachel's floor, and when I open the stairway doors a sense of dejavù invades me. She is staying where I was, at her door, one hand at the handle. She is looking at me, no, not at me, she is looking through me, behind me.

"Rachel" somehow my voice gets buried in a bigger sound. That car snapping breaking hitting concrete kind of sound. But this time my hand is not the car. This time I'm the wall. I'm the one being hit. One, two, three. No, four. Four times.

Oh god. It's like fire on my chest. My face is on fire too. And I can't think. Everything explodes and I can't think. I'm paralyzed again, just standing there, while the time bleeds out and everything runs backward. Only, the time it's not bleeding out, I'm the only one doing the bleeding.

"Rachel" I try again, but I think I'm the only one that heard it. My voice it's not working, it's not loud enough. I need to get to her, I try to. But she is already there. Holding me up. And I'm falling, I didn't know I was falling. But somehow it doesn't matter, I know that, that it doesn't matter.

I feel myself slipping away, into the darkness, but not yet, because she is here, and she is holding me up, holding onto me. Her hands are around my waist, searching for something. I think she found it, because one of her hands it's leaving me, the other is still holding me up.

The hand that left, it's around my back now. There is that sound again. Three, four, five times. Careful Rachel, the guy on my head says, you only have nine.

Somehow I know what he means, but somehow I don't, because it doesn't matter. Nothing does. The world it's tilting and I'm slipping away.

My vision is blackening, like everything is losing definition, I try to focus, I'm trying to breath too, and to think. Think Tommy, think says my dad.

I'm on the floor now, and Rachel is over me, pressing and saying something. It hurts. Fire and heat are everywhere and I just want it to stop. I try to make it stop. Please make it stop. She is saying something but I can't listen. I have to listen, the guy tells me to listen. And I try, I try so hard to focus on her, on her voice. I try to breath, to think. I don't even know what all the trying is for. Somehow it's not working. You are trying not to die the guy says.

"Tom! Tom! Look at me, you can't sleep now, look at me Tom!" She is holding my face now, and I can hear her, but it's like she's talking underwater. I can she her mouth forming the words but the sound it's not coming through. Everything hurts, she's still holding me, holding onto me, and I try to move away, try to scape. I close my eyes. I slip away again, I like it here, in the darkness, it's painless there. Fire explodes again. She'd just hit you, the guy helpfully tells me, you have to open your eyes. He is ordering now. I guess he's right cause She is saying the same thing. Rachel is saying the same thing.

She's still holding onto me and is not letting me scape, the guy on my head tells me we should be glad for it. We, me and him. Us. Although I guess it's just me.

"Tom! Listen to me!" I'm listening, oh god Rachel, I'm trying to listen. But it hurts. It hurts so much. "Open your eyes Tom, do you hear me? Do NOT go to sleep!" She is panicking. Why is she panicking? Everything is good now. I try to tell her. To tell her not to worry. It doesn't hurt so much anymore. But I can't. I can't talk and, at some level, I know I should be worried about that, but I can't worry. Not anymore. "Do you have a radio Tom? We need to call Tom"

It doesn't make sense, nothing it's making sense. But I do have a radio, and she needs it. Give her the radio Tom, don't die. It's that guy again. My dad. Me. The three of us? Where is him? Where am I? I can't see. I can't move.

Rachel has the radio. I can hear her calling. But I don't see her, and I panic a little. It's alright, he says, everything It's dark, and there is no pain.

"Listen to me Tom, don't die! You can't die!"

I'm sorry Rachel, for everything, I'm sorry.