Reboot
At some point in your life, things just stop mattering. The hows, the whens, the whys – nothing matters anymore. He doesn't care how or when or why he got to where he is now, and he knows it would be foolish to waste his last few precious moments thinking about it all.
Jaime Reyes, the scarab murmurs in his mind, the mechanical whisper mixing painfully with the hollowed ringing in his ears. Full alert is recommended.
Like he doesn't know that. He wants to roll his eyes and snap back and tell the bug to shut up, but he can't. He has no strength, not even for such menial tasks.
When his eyes start to flutter closed – because, damnit, he's trying to stay awake – the scarab speaks again.
Biological systems failing.
He knows, he knows, he knows, and but all he really wants to do right now is sleep and cry. He still can't find it in him to argue back, and so he lets the tears come and his eyes close.
Jaime Reyes.
As his consciousness fades, he can't help but think Khaji Da sounds desperate. He wonders why, and then he wonders nothing.
Biological systems failed.
Initiating restart.
Restart failed.
Attempting restoration of biological systems.
Applying electric pulses.
. . .
Restoration failed.
The scarab glows and twitches under his skin. He can feel his host's consciousness is lost and unable to be regained, but he persists. He kneads at Jaime's spine, and continues to send shocks into his lifeless body, a vain and futile and completely illogical attempt to bring back his favored host. Because of all his hosts, of all the lives he ever stole and ruined and destroyed, Jaime had been different. Even though he had never been able to override his consciousness, the boy had come to mean something to him.
Something Khaji Da realized he didn't want to be without.
After hours of persistent attempts to restore life to his host, Khaji Da pulled himself from Jaime's body and fell, cold and drab, beside him.
Khaji Da: commencing full system shut down.