A/N: Hi everyone. I know I haven't updated this story in ages. Life's become…. let's just say complicated. Anyway, I wrote this chapter about a year ago but I totally forgot to post it. I was looking at my stats earlier and I saw that a lot of people have me on author alert for this story, I assume for this one anyway, so I decided to answer your questions and satisfy some cravings.
This was not intended to be the last chapter but seeing how much I've updated recently I think it's best if it is. Though, I may decide to write some more. I dunno. But this chapter can stand alone as the end, so here we go.
Chapter 15: A Gift From A Breeze
He had seen this too many times. He had stood back as families said goodbye to their loved ones. He had waited with his fingers poised above that large red button as lovers sobbed, as mothers refused to let go, as children clung desperately. He had ended lives by simply pushing a button. But, for Dr. James Young, this time was different. Whether it was the slight similarity in appearance between Ephram and his own fifteen-year-old son, thestifled sobs slipping without permission out of the mouth of the young womenwho obviously loved the boy, the tears cascading from a fellow "untouchable" doctors eyes, or the little girl who had smiled through her tears and thanked him for taking away her brother's pain; Dr. Young had never felt this deep sadness with any other patient. But he knew what he had to do. Drawing in a shaking breath, he removed the key from his pocket. Weighing the thin piece of metal in his hand, he was suddenly struck with the irony that such a small thing was about to end a life, a life that hadn't even yet been allowed to live.
"No. Stop." Andy placed his hand on the doctor's shoulder, halting his motion towards the ventilator.
"But, Dr. Brown, I thought you had decided." Dr. Young was surprised to hear the small sigh of relief escape his own mouth.
"I'll do it. It's my decision. I should be the one to carry it out."
Again, James felt his shoulders slump and with a quick nod, he stepped aside to give Andy room, room to reach the ventilator, room to unlock the box under which the red button lay, room to get closer to his son's deathbed.
"Simply take this key." Dr. Young handed the small object to Andy, "Unlock the plastic case-,"
"I know how to do it. I've done this before."
Andy gripped the key in his hand so tightly that he felt the sharp grooves bite into his flesh. Going around the back of the ventilator, he unlocked the plastic box and placed his fingers on the large button. Gathering the last shred of strength he had left, he closed his eyes and begged one last time for his son's life.
"Please Julia. Let him go, let me keep him." Andy whispered, eyes squeezed tight.
He raised his head and watched, one last time, as his son's chest rose and fell with life. Then he closed his eyes. He pushed.
Andy waited. He waited to hear the long beep of the heart monitor to tell him it was over. His eyes clenched tight, ears strained to find closure, to hear the confirmation that he had, in fact, just killed his son.
Minutes later, he realized that the beep had yet to change. It continued on, slow but steady. Cursing the gods who had tricked his ears into hearing the deceitful sound, he forced his eyes open, knowing that he would have to see it, have to see that Ephram was gone.
Andrew Brown had seen many beautiful sights in his life. He had seen the lights of New York from the top of the Empire State Building. He had seen the snows of Colorado as they showered a majestic mountain in the dawning hours of the day. He had seen the smile of a woman who loved him. He had seen the green-gray eyes of a newborn. But he had never seen anything like this.
Dr. Young had removed the tubing from Ephram's mouth. The white plastic was gone but somehow, the teenage boy's thin chest continued to rise and fall. Slowly, rising and falling, it moved.
In denial, Andy's logic called to him, and he turned towards Dr. Young, question in his eyes. The white flash of a jacket tail was all that remained of the running doctor as the door swung shut.
Slowly, Andy once again turned back to look at his son. There he remained, same as before, eyes closed, covered in bandages and bruises, completely still, except for the gentle up and down motion of his chest.
"Thank You, Julia."
THE END… or is it?
Thank you so much for all your feedback. I really enjoyed writing this story, even though I kinda forgot about it for a long time. I'm sorry. I hope this answers some of your questions, I know it won't answer all, but I'm sure you can fill in the rest.
Thanks again.
