SHOUTOUTS:
jsumptersgirl - hehe… now which island would that be? Far-away isn't specific! Far-away from where?
What Lurks in Shadows - I think this one took a bit longer…. But that's 'cause I lost half it in my backpack -
Alexandria Queen of Dreams - Curt is a good boy. Such a lovely lovely muse, he is…
wiseupjanetweiss - ha. We aren't the only ones who feel sorry for Maxwell! -looks around- I hope.
Miss Loaf - oooh thanks that's one killer compliment. I like to know that people like it, but I LOVe to know that people love it! ;)
Brownie/Melody - ahh hey- I wonder when we'll get edits back from that German story we wrote? 'cause I don't want to post it all stupid-like. Ha. We can post it in the "Gänsebraten"-LOTR crossover section. hehe

Chapter Twenty-Two

I was released. I had no further purpose to the doctors, no medical reason for being there.

Maxwell's condition faded into "terminal." I knew the only way to save him now would be to get him out of here once and for all.

So I made my plans. Slowly, carefully. I couldn't afford to fuck this one up. I became a regular visitor. I learned who was there and when and where and what was going on at that time. I figured out the down times. I figured out who was a little more lenient with the rules, a little more friendly with me than everyone else.

It was slow work, and I was getting anxious. Every time I saw Maxwell he'd slid just a little more. I saw it. And he knew it, too. They stopped running tests; he was too unhealthy for that now, it'd be a bad mark on their stinkin' fuckin' records. Still they wouldn't let him go. But I was ready now.

As you can imagine, the press bugged the shit out of me every time I went near that building. Not even a goddamn Area 51 or anything, just a plain old building. No windows, but still… not very secret for a government thing. But I had to act like everything was normal. So I had to face them like every day even though I was about fuckin' sick with fear from what I was about to do. Take Maxwell away.

The reporters called out their questions and I just scowled and pushed on through. They knew Maxwell was dying, so it wasn't all that abnormal behavior for me. Everyone knew he was dying, even if nobody had formally admitted it. Just like everyone knew I had intentions on suing Jack Fairy for every goddamn thing he was worth. Nor for the money, just to make him as miserable as he'd made me. This hadn't been said officially yet, but the tabloids were right in their guesses. Nobody knew what was about to happen next.

I walked in, all bitchy as was usual for me. It was one of those perfect times I had chosen. When no one was closely guarding anything, people I liked were tired and getting ready to change shifts. Everything good and quiet. But I still had to hurry. My window was shrinking quickly.

I almost blew it all when one of the doctors stopped me and tried to start a conversation. I was impatient. I was bitching. But he let me go, finally, and I practically fuckin' sprinted into the inner labs, I walked that fast. I got to the locked doors and made sure no one was around before talking.

"Maxwell, what's the code?"

I received a blank noise back that told me that he'd heard, but was either confused or didn't know the answer. This had started happening more and more, he just wasn't even up to the mental effort of comprehending what you said sometimes. No matter. Jackson passed by just then, one of my more "buddy-buddy" doctors, looking pretty damn happy indeed.

"Hey Curt! What's going on?"

"Uhhh nothing really. The usual…"

"Yeah- I've worked all night and I'm finally getting to call it quits. They wanted me to stay another two hours, but I said 'hell no'!" he paused. "You need in?" Idiots. What kind of security was this? Jackson was going to be fired for sure when I was done with all this.

"Uhh… yeah, if you can."

"No problem, just don't make any trouble. Not that I think you would, him being like he is…" he sighs.

I shook my head somewhat grimly. And he opened the door and was gone. I slipped inside and the door vacuumed shut behind me and I became aware of a rising panic that I had to suppress before I got any closer to Maxwell. I was afraid he would be able to feel it, would doubt me.

The second set of doors was again open and I went in and then up to the glass of the cage, looking in at Maxwell all curled up into himself. I glanced again at the stat-ticker running along one of the walls. 25 breaths per minute, 105 beats per minute, 102.6 degrees Fahrenheit. Slowly declining day after day.

But I had to hurry. I moved to the glass door, calling his name as I came through.

"Maxwell."

He turned his head weakly towards me, his eyes gone silver-black like mercury in a thermometer from half-blindness, searching a moment, then relaxing, going still.

-Curt.- his voice was fuzzy, a radio that you don't quite have tuned to the right station.

"I'm getting you out."

I came closer.

"I'm not going to let them do this anymore."

He sighed. I'd said it so many times before; I think he'd stopped believing me.

"I promise… this is all going to end."

I was up beside him on the bed then, kissing his face.

"Give me your hand."

I asked, and he didn't move,but I took it anyway, and I look in his eyes and saw that he knew I was lying and I plunged the needle into his arm.

It was the most beautiful and horrible thing I'd ever seen as the heroin slammed into his system. Overdose three times over, and I saw the shine return to his hair and skin, the fight back in his eyes as he gripped my hand tighter, stronger.

And I pushed the plunger down further, saw him fade, but quietly, into death. One moment he was beautiful, the next he was gone.

I pulled the needle out and let my grief catch up with me.