Irene sat in the elevator for ages. Her blood soaked the carpet. She didn't move until someone needed it on the first floor. A young girl opened it and shrieked at Irene. She didn't blame her, Irene looked like she just came out of a battle. Well, you could say that. Irene hit the button again and cut off the screams. It opened up to the lobby and Irene burst out of the elevator, ignoring yells of surprise and protest. She threw her weight against the spinning door and fell out, slowly getting back on her knees. But it was too much. Irene gasped and fell again, breathing heavily and painfully.
"I don't want you to go."
Jim sat on the stool, face blank. The room was white, bright and bare. Jim was dressed simply, in a shirt and shorts. Irene sat in an armchair, legs crossed. She didn't trust his words, she never did. There was always double meaning, another layer underneath them. But... there was something odd, she couldn't place her finger on it. His face was blank, free of slyness or cunningness. His eyes looked sincere.
"Please, come back." He said again. Irene looked away and said nothing. "Please?" Jim pleaded. Irene sighed.
"What do you want?"
"You." His reply came instant. She smiled a bit.
"Of course." She scoffed.
"I mean it!" Jim objected. "I don't want Sherlock having you. You're mine." Irene snapped her head up at his words.
She narrowed her eyes. "Yours? Jim, we've tried that before. It's not going to work." Jim looked away.
"But-but I..." He looked into her eyes. "Just don't."
"I don't want to do this anymore. I'm tired." Irene laughed and scratched her head. "Of everything." Jim smiled.
"Me too. Life's just so boring, isn't it? Not worth the effort sometimes?" Irene smiled.
"Yeah, quite a lot. Although, it does get a little better with you around." Jim titled his head. "Yeah, I'll admit it. You are quite entertaining." He beamed.
"A compliment. Big coming from you."
"Hold on to it, another won't be coming for a while." Irene laughed. He smiled.
"I miss this. Us, everything. Why must you go?" She curled her lip.
"Because of things."
"You don't belong there. With Sherlock and John. They belong together, in their own little way. You don't." Irene frowned and looked away. "Why do you? Why do you want to be with them?" He looked into his lap. "Was I not enough?"
"Jim, I-" She stopped. "You were plenty. Too much actually. I just needed to escape. Breathe new air."
"Then come back?" He asked hopeful.
"It doesn't matter. None of this does." Jim smiled and stood up.
"Of course. This is just your imagination running wild during a coma. But tell me, why on earth should any of this not mean anything?"