One Night Alone a reboot fanfiction by Mary Jane
Chapter Six: Final Words
The world seemed so much different around him. He had been still, as it seemed, for his entire life, and now that his life was undergoing a metamorphosis, one that he was unable to stop, his eyes seemed to tell his mind different things. He looked at things that he had been looking at his whole life, and he saw things that mystified him as they would mystify a tiny child. He reached out his hand, trying to touch the new things that he saw, but his fingers only drifted through the air, feeling the wind of his movements across them. He almost wanted to cry when he found that he could touch nothing, he could feel nothing. He saw beauty and wonder all around him, two things that it seemed he had never seen before, but he still could not touch them. And it seemed like they mocked him, as they drifted across the world in front of him, smiling down at him with their pearly splendor, always being mindful to stay out of his reach.
He had not moved at all for quite some time. Were anyone to walk into the room in which he lay, they would have looked down at him, seen his glazed over eyes and frozen face, and they would have thought to themselves that he had died in vain, with longing written all over his face. They also would have seen the tears in his eyes, and they would have seen the despair that they carried with them, but one thing they would not see would be the hope that had held them back for so long. He had almost been praying for what seemed like a lifetime, and now there was nothing left to pray for, as it seemed. Everything that he had cared about was plastered into his eyes, making them irritated and bloodshot, and everything that he remembered that had been lost to him for so long only made them freeze in their position. A person who knew him well could have, if they had the heart to look, seen his entire life written in those two eyes. As still and as dead as they seemed, they carried the burdens of a man who had suffered, and who had laughed, and who had cried and loved and hoped and shared and hated and denied and denied and denied. A powerful sight for any onlooker, but a sight that none could understand by only looking for a moment.
The other beings traveling with him had stopped checking in on him. They could not hate him, despite all he had done, and they could not be angry with him. They could only pity him. Some, even, were wishing for him to die, but they were not wishing for it out of maliciousness and fury. They were wishing for it out of mercy. They had seen his eyes for one tiny moment, and they forced themselves to look away, but they had seen a glimpse of more pain than they had ever seen before. They seemed to see him age in front of them, and as they saw all of this, they forced themselves to look away. As was said before, there had never been so much life written all over someone who looked like death, and their little hearts, as understanding and caring as they were, could not fathom the reason behind these eyes. They looked down at the ground, and they had left him alone, and some brave souls had checked in on him every once in a while to see if he was coming back to life, but they had stopped after seeing no improvement. It wasn't that they were giving up hope, although they were beginning to; it was that they were frightened, more so than they had ever been in their lives.
Matrix himself wanted to stand up, even though in his heart he felt like he had no bodily strength left. He wanted to walk over to the other chamber, where his only companion was dying, and say his final words. He had started out with hope that she would heal, and then his hope had changed to denial of the entire situation, and then he had moved into the idea that perhaps death truly was not far from this vessel. But he had always thought that he would be the one to die, if any one was to die, so he still had difficulty in coming to terms with the death of another. And he knew that time was running out, and he had gotten to the point where he admitted to himself that this was one thing that he was powerless to stop, that he could do absolutely nothing to prevent. He knew of ways to delay death, but there was a difference between delaying death and reviving life. So, he was still on his back, staring up at the nothingness that would never be tangible to him, and trying to think of the right words to say to the only one he cared for anymore.
His eyes remained open, but in his mind they closed, and he saw things flash in front of his eyes. He saw all of the things that he had hoped he would see again, except that he wouldn't have to see them alone. He thought of all the wonderful aspects of his childhood, and all the memories of his short adolescence, and all of the secret thoughts inside his head as he showed only gruffness and austerity to the outside world. He thought of the dreams that he had as he slept, unknowing but uncaring of where and when he would wake up.
They were all little things, things that he had not really taken an extreme notice to when they had actually happened, but they played out forever in his mind as he recalled them to life.
He had been lying on his back, with his arms outstretched on both sides of his body, his infant eyes staring up at the sky in wonder. He knew no words, so he could not write poetry or sing of the things in front of him, but his mind made up noteless, lyricless melodies that only played the music of peace. The sky above him had been black, with tiny white dots scattered numerously all over it, the tiny little dots of information that everyone knew something about, but no one really knew anything about. They had stayed still, and they had danced for him, accompanying the melody that played in his head. A silent ballet, as it seemed, played in front of him, only for him, made by him.
He had been young, but not that young. He stood with his sister, who was so much bigger than he, and he looked up at her with reverence and respect and love. She had looked down at him with an equal expression, smiling her beautiful smile as she reached out and took his hand. Then she looked away, at the adventure in front of them, but on her face he could still see the protection that she offered him. Every little feature, no matter how small, told him different things, but all these different things came together and made sense to him. She guarded him, and told him that there was nothing to fear, and that she would always be right by his side. He looked ahead to where she looked, and saw something that he had always wanted to do but had always been afraid of, took a deep breath, and looked back at her, waiting for her signal. And the signal came, when she took her own deep breath, and immediately afterwards her face twisted with delight, her mouth curving upwards, her eyes screwing shut. She clenched his hand harder, and they both took huge steps, running, preparing to jump into the water. He felt the wind as he fell, and then he felt the roughness of the slide, and then he felt the icy jolt of the water, but he also always felt her hand joined with his. And he could not help but smile.
He had been so scared. There he had sat, in the dark, with only one eye working. Everything hurt, but nothing hurt more than the feeling in his heart. The game had only just ended, and he had, in a desperate act, saved his own life and the lives of his companions by changing they icon modes. But he felt in his heart that he was to blame for everything that had happened, and more than that, everything that was going on happen. What was going to happen? He kept asking himself this question as he asked himself so many other questions: why did I fail, what did I do wrong, what will happen to everyone now that there is no one to protect them, what will become of my friends, will I still be able to protect them, am I a protector, or am I just a weakling, like everyone told me before? The questions spun around and around, driving him insane, and scaring him, greater than anything had ever scared him before. But as he wrapped his arms around his torn, bloody knees, he felt a little hand touch his shoulder. He looked up and saw her, and he felt both shame and joy at the sight in her eyes. Shame, for they told him that she still had faith in him, even though he knew that he was undeserving of anyone's faith. And joy, because they still possessed the look that had been there before. She still looked at him as her best friend, not as a miserable failure.
All of these little things, all of these occurances that really did not matter in the grand scheme of things, were the things that now he could not seem to take his mind off of. What made it even stranger, and yet what made it even more powerful in his heart, was that he had forgotten about all of them. He hadn't remembered the kindness that people had looked at him with, the joy that he had felt inside of himself when he saw the love in their eyes, the warmth of a simple embrace from someone he cared about. Or perhaps, he hadn't forgotten about them, but when he decided that all emotions both got in the way and also were a sign of weakness in beings, he dismissed everything about himself that was gentle. But whether he had forgotten or simply dismissed the feelings was insignificant at this moment, for now he had become a child again. He was the child who forgot about the pain of a wound as soon as someone placed a bandage over it.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
"Hey everyone!" a voice called. Everyone looked up from their meals.
One binome who had been assigned to the task of "watching for any civil disobediences, strange occurances, or chain saw toting guys that say 'groovy'" (all of which he was very proud of being the guardian for, so much in fact that if anyone were to ask him what he was doing he would have given a staged dramatization of his current responsibilities), ran up the stairs to the mess hall. It was dusk, and everyone was still in shock from the occurances of that one cycle, but they were beginning to lighten up, and the mess hall possessed a small quantity of noise. But all were silenced again when this binome ran in, huffing and puffing and looking like he was hyperventilating.
"He's up! He's up! I have seen him, and he is definitely up!" he panted out.
Everyone just stared, totally clueless as to what he was talking about.
"Oh, come on people, is anyone awake in here? Geez, he's up, dudes! Get with the program!" he shouted.
The Captain stood up from his place. "What in the web are you talking about, lad? And why aren't you at your post?" he said.
"Well, two- thirds of what I was supposed to look for is happening, and I don't think that the chain saw guy is coming any time soon, so I really don't need to be there anymore! Now, come on, do you think I would honestly abandon such a noble profession as guarding the souls below deck, with which you have so nobly entrusted me to guard and protect with my very life and soul..." he yelled.
The captain interrupted him. "Alright, alright, we get the picture. But tell me, what is happening?" he said. Then he added, speaking softer, "Has the woman finally left us?"
"No, but I was going to mention that too. She's not going to last the night, I can tell you that much. But what I came here to inform you of is the man. He's up, and he looks like he is in some sort of evil trance. He's very pale, and his eyes are almost closed, and he walks like he's a character in Myst! You know, the linear version, where you can only walk in straight lines? It's so weird looking!"
The Captain quickly walked past the binome, looking out in the hall, and sure enough, he saw Matrix almost immediately. Sure enough, he was walking completely straight, looking like death and drifting across the space in front of him like a ghost, but not raising his eyes to look at anything. The Captain was about to call out to him and find out what he was doing, but he felt something inside of him that told him to remain quiet, so he did. And everyone stood up, everyone watched Matrix as he silently walked past the mess hall, went down the stairs to the lowest deck, and disappeared into the shadows. Everyone knew where he was going.
The Captain turned around again to look at everyone behind him. He locked eyes with Ray, who looked like he was ready to run out of the room and follow Matrix, no matter where he went, but the Captain delivered his message to him with his eyes. Ray immediately understood, looked down at the ground, and slowly drifted back in to his seat. Then, the Captain delivered his message to everyone else.
"No one follow."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The door creaked open, then creaked closed as he entered the room. Even though it was almost pitch black, he could see her, plain as day, continuing to fight for her life. He knew that if he had seen her like this only a short while ago, he would not have been able to control himself. He would have either broken down in a crying mess, or he would have burst out of that room and taken his rage out on yet another being smaller than he. But not now; now he simply looked at her not with tears in his eyes, and not with fear either, but simply with remorse and sorrow.
He walked over to the side of her platform and sat down beside her. He wanted to say everything all at once, but he could not figure out where to begin. What do you say to your dying love?
His motions, after sitting down, were robotic. He reached out his hand and slowly touched hers, and he was not yet at the point where she was so far gone that she no longer was tangible, but she felt softer than she had ever felt to him before. Her skin almost felt like that of a baby's; so fragile, but so beautiful and gentle to the touch. The simple feeling of her against him stunned him, and he forgot everything that he had been thinking about before. He forgot about all of the things that he had been wanting to say to her, and now his mind was simply focused on the feeling of her, the presence of her in the room. It was a joy to feel; a joy he, like all other joys in his life, had forgotten.
"Hi Andi." he whispered as he raised his eyes to her face. She didn't move at all, not even a twitch of an eyelid. But in his mind, he saw her smile at him.
"I don't know why I feel this way, but somehow I know that you can hear me. And I know that you can't move to let me know if you can hear me, so I'll just trust how I feel right now." he nodded his head slightly, as if he had said that last thing to reassure himself of its logic and truth instead of reassuring her.
"There are so many things I have to say." he spoke in a detached tone, slowly. "I don't know where to begin, and I don't know if I can fit everything into the little bit of time that I have. But don't try to hold on until I'm finished, okay? Just, whenever it gets too hard for you, I want to you leave. I don't want you to feel pain because of me."
* * * * * * * * * * * *
What do you say to your dying love?
I, I guess the first thing I have to say is that I'm sorry for everything. I'm, I'm sorry for becoming who I am, I'm sorry for making you go through your life the way you have, I'm, sorry for not being there for you when I should have been. There are so many things I should apologize for, and there are so many things that I wish I could erase and remake in a way that doesn't bring any pain on you. I, never wanted anything like this for you. I never thought..."
What is this silence your love puts over you?
I'm not proud of anything. I'm not proud of the man I've become, I'm not proud of where we've ended up, I'm not proud of anything I've ever done in my life. I feel this, this shame inside, that makes me look at the world as if is covered in death wherever I go.
I have these dreams, where I walk around on this little plot of grass, and everywhere that I step the growth slowly starts to die. I've been having them for so long, and I've never told them to anyone, but they have made me lose so much sleep at night, and they've made me so tired...
Are you tired?
Are you tired? Are you still here because of me? Are you, holding out for something? I don't understand why you've fought for so long, because I look in the mirror and can't imaging why you would want to save yourself. I am nothing to come back to.
Or are you fighting for something else? It's crossed my mind that you've sometimes wanted to disappear, to leave everything that is familiar, and just go find an entirely different world for yourself. I understand that. I haven't had any luck looking for any kind of life in the unknown, but you are so much more than I am. So are so much stronger, and you know how to keep yourself alive...
I am not alive.
I don't know how to stay alive. I know how to keep myself going, keep my heart beating, keep my lungs breathing, but I don't know how to stay alive. I'm, inside, nothing. There's this hole in me, it makes me feel like I am a walking skeleton, rotting in front of everyone's eyes. I feel disgusting, and then I look at you, and see what you are, and it just makes me even more ashamed of everything that I am. Ashamed of keeping you with me, forcing you to live this way.
Do you know, I had so many nights like this one when I was young. I can remember these times when I sat up in my room and hugged my legs to me and just stared at everything in front of my eyes. There was nothing, and then there was everything. I saw all the world's colors at once, and I felt the warmth and the frigidity and the blindness and the emotions that everyone experiences throughout their lives. And I know why I saw it all, but I think that I was ashamed to admit it to anyone, even to myself.
I used to be such a dreamer. I used to dream about so many things, in so many different places. When I was little, I used to want to be everything. I would dream about growing up, and traveling, and fighting with all kinds of beings, except that I never used to dream about hurting them. And I dreamt of nights where the wind would be warm, and the sky was clear, and I was surrounded by all the people I had ever met, and we would play games as if it were some holiday that was more important than any other day. I dreamt of the excitement of capture the flag and ghosts in the graveyard and tag and water balloon fights where the balloons never ran out, and I used to see everyone's eyes in front of mine, smiling at me. They would chase me and I would chase them, and we would enter this totally different world where nothing mattered, and there was only us and the darkness.
And then we would go eat, and sit around a huge table, and talk about things of no importance, and we would laugh all the time. I would sit down under a huge tree, and it would rain and it would snow and the sun would shine and the stars would reach out and grab my hand. I would fall backwards onto the grass, and I would run in the rain, and I would be completely soaked with water from the clouds and from the balloons and I would get into wrestling matches with everyone. And everyone would feel strong. But no one would be hurt.
And then, we would go home. I would enter my dark house, holding my mother's hand on one side and holding my father's hand on the other side, and feeling Dot's arms around my neck. And we would all be exhausted, but we would still stay up, making hot drinks and sitting in the dimly lit room in the middle of the house, wrapping blankets around ourselves and the others. We would fall asleep together.
Why do you tell me this?
I don't know why I'm telling you all of this. It makes me feel so strange to say it, because I've been making myself forget about all of it for the majority of my life. I never wanted to feel weak, I never wanted anyone else to think that I was some little toy of my emotions. I ridiculed people who spoke like this, it's kind of funny.
Smile. It is funny. Smile.
I want you to know that I probably won't outlive you by very much. But right now, and for the rest of my time, I'm not going to be what I was. I'm not going to forget about all of this. I've forgotten so many things, and my carelessness with these memories is what makes me dangerous. I guess that's another thing I have to apologize for; I treated you just like I treated all of my memories. I've never really valued anything, and I've never really stopped to think about what it might feel like when something was gone. But now, it seems like everything is gone. But, I don't feel sorry for myself. I don't deserve it.
I'm crying. I've never cried before, not until now. It feels good. It feels so wet and odd on my hands, but it just feels good. I think that I've missed this feeling.
I've said too much. I'm sorry, here I am, pouring out my heart and soul to you when you either can't hear me or just don't care. I've been bothering you like this your whole life, haven't you?
Sometimes, I just don't know what to say to anyone. I've never felt like I can talk to anyone, even though I know that there are people out there who would be willing to listen. There's just these walls around me, and they make my whole life look like that room I was describing to you before. And in the room there are more things, like the memories of things that I have been thinking about for so long. Like that story my sister once told me, or that little girl on the playground that I almost killed once. I only remembered them recently, but it's like they are these moments in my life that now seem to define who I am. It's so stupid, living in the past and dwelling on things that happened so long ago, when I was a completely different person.
You're a completely different person too. You know, I look at you, and I can only imagine what is going on inside your head. I can't talk to you or even see you, but you've been there all along, and you've been all alone. It makes me feel so awful, seeing you, having to spend your whole life alone with me, and here I am, I can't even make it through one day alone. I feel like I've never been alone before, and now that I am...I don't know.
You don't know...what do you say to your dying love?
How much I cry...I can't control it. I've never felt like this before...I'm so lonely, I want you to come back so much. But at the same time, I want you to go...I want you to be free of everything that has happened to us, I don't want you to suffer any more. I care about you so much, I only wish that I hadn't been so afraid of everything up until this point.
I hate this, I hate seeing you this way! And I hate feeling this way, with this anger that I can barely control and this enormous awareness of how horrible I am! I hate this so much...why wasn't it me?
Why wasn't it you?
Why wasn't it me?
I don't know why it wasn't you...
It should be me, I deserve all of this, you don't deserve anything!
You don't deserve this.
God, I hate everything in my world, and I hate everything that I've become, and everything that I've ever been!
Don't...that's the anger talking. You don't know what anything means...
I hate this world, I hate everything in it! I hate seeing you like this...you're still here...why don't you just end your pain? Why are you putting yourself through all of this? I don't want to see you suffer!
But I'm not suffering. I'm with you.
I want to be here for you...
You are.
But I just can't do anything for you! I was so stupid, I should have been there, I should have protected you, I should have forced my way in front of you, I shouldn't have let all of my stupidity control me.
You are here, and you deserve no blame.
I want you to be happy! I wanted you to be happy, for the whole time! But I never could make you happy, I always made you suffer, and I always messed things up!
No you didn't...you were wonderful...
I fucking love you, alright! I fucking don't care about anything else in the God-damned world except for you! And here you are, you're dying in front of my eyes, and there's nothing I can do for you! There's nothing I can say, and I just want to die with you!
No, you can't die with me...you have so much life left in you.
And here I am, instead of doing anything I'm just crying and carrying on and being such a disgusting thing, but I can't do anything, I can't say anything...
There is so much you can say to your dying love. But none of it will ever leave your mind.
Just don't fight! If it hurts, don't make it hurt anymore!
It doesn't hurt. I'm tired, but having you here makes everything better.
Just live or die! Or tell me, send me some kind of message, telling me how I can touch you one last time...
I'll feel you with me forever, you don't need to touch me in order to make me feel.
I just, I don't know what I can do, what can I do in the world? What does the world need from failures like me? I have nothing left to give, and no one to give it to, and no one to talk to, and no one who will listen, and no one who will even scold me for being so self-piteous. There's just no one in my life anymore...what kind of life is that? Nothing left to give, and no one to give it to...
You have everything to give, and everyone to receive it.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Ray had waited forever, as it seemed to him. He couldn't wait anymore. It was now extremely late at night, and it had felt like seconds since Matrix had emerged and dissappeared. He had stood up three times, and he had made it to the door once, always with the idea in his head that he would go and see what was happening. He had a horrible fear in his heart that kept telling him that both of them are gone, and will never come back. But each time, he felt the Captain's eyes on him, and he turned around and sat down just as quietly as he had stood up. He was exhausted, both in body and in mind, but as everyone else around him slept, he remained as wide awake as a young child on a warm afternoon.
He looked around at all of the faces around him. They were all sleeping together, in order to get protection from whoever and whatever might emerge. Everyone around him looked like they were having the first good dream after a long line of horrible ones. It was a good night, warm and sticky and humid, but still nice. Ray thought to himself about what much be going on at every point in the world, where some people slept and some people enjoyed their lives underneath a black sky and yet others had troubles on their mind. Everything happened all at once, and his mind wandered, manufacturing ideas of what kinds of things other people thought about.
It drove him insane. The frustration, the discontent with the way that his life had turned, the recent thoughts about other people's problems and worries. And he kept thinking about AndrAIa...he could honestly say that he had never known anyone who died before. He had never known his family, for he had been alone for the longest time. But he wasn't lonely, in fact, he thought that he had loved the life where there were no attachments. He kept telling himself that he who has more in his life is the one who has more to worry about, and more to tie him down. Plus, this kind of thing...a death of someone in his life...he knew that he had been fearing something like this his whole life. He really didn't think that all the pain of loss was worth all the joy in receiving someone else.
He stood up very rapidly when his mind immediately turned to Matrix. He had only known the man for a little amount of time, but as much as he hated him, he felt a kinship with him. Matrix was completely the opposite of him, but Ray found it interesting to look at the things Matrix went through and ask himself if he was jealous. He wasn't jealous of Matrix's pain, or all of the losses that Ray really knew very little about, but he was jealous of the things that he had gotten a glimpse of that were good in Matrix's life. He had seen AndrAIa and Matrix together when they had thought that no one was looking, and they had been one of the closest couples, no, friends, that he had ever seen. Ray had no friends, and as much as he loved his freedom, whenever he looked at two people who really cared about each other, he couldn't help but want everything that they had.
He walked quietly, being sure not to disturb anyone around him. The Captain was actually still awake, and he could hear Ray's heart beating as he moved, but he didn't feel the need to stop him anymore. Matrix and AndrAIa could probably use a check-up, even though he felt the exact same way that Ray did: that neither one of them was really with them anymore. Ray opened the door, walked through it, and closed it, not making a sound, and the Captain finally went to sleep almost immediately after Ray was gone.
Ray tiptoed down the hall, then walked slowly down the stairs, and he could see nothing in front of him. There were no lights on, it was simply pitch black everywhere. He was worried that he would run in to something and make a lot of noise, but he actually never had any problems. He reached the door to the chamber, paused for a moment, then reached out his hand and pushed it open, agonizingly slowly. And while it moved, he silently prayed that the two were still there, that there was still a flicker of hope left.
Sure enough, he saw them. AndrAIa was dimmer than ever, so dim that she wouldn't be seen by anyone who wasn't looking specifically for her. As the door opened wider, Ray could also make out the sharp sillouette of Matrix, head bent down, hands folded in front of him, just sitting there. It was actually surprising to Ray; he was awake, and fully conscious, and wasn't upset at all. Could he have accepted reality, and now he was giving up on AndrAIa, and saying prayers for her? Was he saying his final words to the one he loved?
Matrix didn't look up when Ray walked in to the room, but he was aware of his presence. He didn't move at all, except for a slight little blink of his eyes, breaking a long stare that he had been holding for quite some time. Ray didn't see this blink, but as his eyes caught a hold of the other figure that was in the room, he could almost see everything that Matrix was thinking.
Across from AndrAIa, right next to the chair in which Matrix was sitting, there was a large box-shaped machine, with tubes stretching all over the room. The tubes wound around like enormous snakes, slithering around and looking silently for something to squeeze the life out of. One of them had actually come to rest in Matrix's arm, which Ray discovered by following it's shape throughout the room. His eyes were adjusting better, and now he could make out faint lines and colors. And when Matrix finally did turn to look at him, he could see every shade of color in his eyes.
The two men stared at each other, never saying anything. Ray didn't know what to say, and Matrix simply didn't have anything to say. He had poured his heart out to AndrAIa, and now, as it seemed, he was literally pouring his life out to her, by using this machine to some how give her his energy and his very life force.
They never did say anything, they just stared at each other for the rest of the night, and in the morning, the crew came down and made their peace with Matrix. They too found that they did not need words to communicate with Matrix anymore, for they now possessed the courage to look in to his eyes, and see exactly what he was feeling. His eyes said everything that anyone would ever need to say to anyone.
And in that room, everyone finally understood what their companions were about. They could finally tell themselves, with the knowledge that they weren't lying to themselves, that he was strong or that he was courageous, or that she had an incredibly ability to hang on to life longer than anyone else in the world possibly could. They didn't know what was going to happen, for it was no longer clear. Plus, they had thought that they could tell the future simply by looking at someone's face, but that had proved itself to be inaccurate. Matrix's eyes were still frightening, but they possessed a little flicker of light that confused everyone. What was that flicker? What did it mean? What was going on inside that restless heart of his?
Was he still alone? Did he still feel like he deserved not to die, but to live, and therefore not be given the pleasant solice and peace of death? Did he simply want to die? Did he still fear the world, and look at it as if it were simply a collection of evil people who do not know how to love? Or was he discovering that he had become exactly what he truly hated: people who care for nothing? And did he ever find the way to discover how to say, "I love you, and I will never give up on you" to his dying love? Does he now, after one night of solitude and hatred and emotional despair, possess the wisdom that would allow him, and indeed would allow you, to say what you feel to your dying love?
You'll know someday.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
that's all she wrote, folks! Please please please review and tell me what you thought of the story, this is the final chapter in this series. I think everyone knows where the story goes from here, at least from a factual point of view. Bye bye kiddies!