Kettering

"I wish that I had known in that first minute we met, the unpayable debt that I owed you.
'Cause you'd been abused by that bone that refused you, and you hired me to make up for that."

-"Kettering" by The Antlers

"Good afternoon, Mr. Johnson," Caroline said. She smiled at him and pulled up a chair next to his hospital bed. She pulled out a stack of papers and a clipboard and folded back the first page. "I've brought the daily reports."

Cave Johnson just stared at her.

"The daily reports," she tried. "You love hearing about the facility."

Cave grunted and looked away.

"Come on," she said. "Where's that old Cave Johnson smile?"

"Caroline," he whispered, and then wheezed.

Caroline looked up, setting down the papers full of red numbers, of loss reports, of failed tests. "What's wrong? Do you need more pain pills?" She reflexively reached for the ones on the table beside his bed. She checked the clock in the room and frowned. Not time yet for another dose of morphine. The pain pills would have to do.

Cave shook his head, instead gesturing to one of the nurses with a finger. A blood oxygen monitor hung limply on his index finger, the cord streaming down to the rest of the cords hooked up to his hospital bed. "Get her outta here," he grumbled.

"Yes, sir," Caroline said softly. She stood and moved over to the nurse, touching her arm gently and giving her a quick smile, then asked her for a moment alone.

Cave wheezed. Caroline reached in her pocket and pulled out a well-worn handkerchief. She handed it to him and he heaved again, but this time she realized that there were tears in his eyes. He took a shallow breath, closing his eyes and then pressing his thumb and forefinger at the inside corners of his eyes.

"Sir," Caroline whispered, floating a hand on his shoulder. "What's wrong?"

Cave just shook his head, struggling to breathe. He scrambled for his oxygen mask and placed it over his nose for a long few moments. Caroline moved to his side in an instant, placing a hand on his shoulder, ready to help him shift into a better, more upright position.

"I don't know if I can do this anymore," he whispered. "I'm so cold."

"Then I'll get you another blanket," Caroline said. She gave his hand a quiet squeeze, then stood up to call back in the nurse. Maybe he just didn't want the nurse to see him cry, that was all.

"It's not that," he said. "I mean, I don't think I can do this. Being sick."

Caroline felt a spike of fear crash through her. "Sir?"

"Every day it's the same damn thing. I wake up. I can't breathe. The doctors say-"

"The doctors are doing their best."

"The doctors are just telling me what I want to hear, damnit. They know I pay them. And you know what? I don't believe a damn thing that they say anymore."

Caroline pursed her lips, and looked away. She then reached for his hand again, gently rubbing at his palm.

"It's over for me, isn't it?"

She looked down, not wanting to make eye contact with him. She couldn't bring herself to say it. None of them would be a surefire way to get fired. No one wanted to be the person to say that they couldn't save Cave Johnson.

"I'll get you that blanket," she said instead. She got up and left for a moment, coming back and spreading it across his lap.

"You didn't answer my question," said Cave. "You don't know what it's like, being here. I used to be healthy. I used to walk these halls of science every day. People respected me. And now you won't even look me in the eye. You of all people, Caroline. I thought I could trust you."

She fiddled with the edge of the blanket. "Sir, I'm afraid it's not promising," she said, swallowing. "The doctors say-"

"Fuck what the doctors say. I want to know what you think. And be honest with me."

"No, sir," she said. "I don't think you're going to make it."

A great heaviness fell over Cave. He sunk back into his bed and closed his eyes. Silent tears streamed down his cheeks and he didn't even bother to wipe them away. Instead he just lifted a forearm across his eyes, blocking the harsh light of the room. The beeps and hums of monitors filled the air.

"Every day is just a little bit worse," he said. " The coughs hurt more. My body hurts more. And my lungs-every time I breathe, it's like they're on fire."

"Oh, sir," Caroline said. She wanted to do something to comfort him. She wanted to take him in her arms, to squeeze him, to reassure him that everything was going to be okay. "We're doing everything we can for you."

"When we first met-you remember that? I knew there was something special about you."

Caroline gave a sad little smile. "And I knew there was something special about you."

"Who woulda thought we'd end up here, huh?" he said, and then coughed into the handkerchief that Caroline had given him. He glanced down at it, frowning for a moment. Embroidered on the side was C. J.

"Hey, this is one of mine," he said. He thumbed the familiar embroidery.

"Don't you remember? You gave it me," said Caroline.

"I guess I did, didn't I?" he said. The hint of a smile upturned the corner of his mouth. "Caroline, I-" he swallowed. "I'm thinking about something. Long and hard. And I need you to hear me out on this, okay?" he said.

Caroline nodded, folding the handkerchief in her hands.

"I've been thinking about this a long time. Ever since I got sick, really. Ever since I got worse. Every day is torture. I can't even breathe anymore on my own," he said, looking over at the oxygen mask beside him. When his lungs failed completely, the next step would be the ventilator. Cave knew that it was just around the corner-the machine was already parked off to the side of the room. He gave a shaky breath. "I don't want to live anymore," he said.

"I don't understand," she said finally. "You want... to die?"

Cave Johnson shook his head. "No, no," he said. "I don't-it's hard to explain. I don't want to die. I just don't want to live anymore."

Caroline pulled away, shaking her head. "No," she said, firm. "No. You can't do that."

"It's my choice, Caroline."

"No," she repeated again. Tears started to well up in her eyes. "I can't lose you."

"You already have," he said. "Look at me. I might as well be dead."

"That's not true. I need you. "

"Look at me. I can't run my facility. I can't do anything but sit here and waste away. At least if I was dead, we could start to move on. Could start to do science again."

"Aperture needs you."

"Oh, Caroline," said Cave. He reached and gently touched her face, tracing along her cheek. "They already have you." He brushed a curled strand of gray-flecked hair behind her ear.

"It won't be the same," she said. "We can't-I can't do this without you."

"I've heard what they say, around the facility. That you're doing wonderfully. That it's like you've already taken over. That things are running even more efficiently than ever. And it just makes me think-why didn't I put you in charge before?"

"Mr. Johnson-"

Cave wheezed, and blood stained his handkerchief. He looked at it and felt like laughing at the absurdity of it all. He was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.

"I need you to do this for me."

Caroline took a long look at Cave. She got up, folding her arms behind her back and looking over at the picture window that faced the rest of the facility. So they could watch the world as it moved on without him.

"There's no saving me," he said. "But I think there's something that could save you."