Disclaimer: I own nothing... except for some apples and a half block of cheese... oh wait a dog just eat the cheese... that can't be good.

Fortune's Fool

Part III

By Toblerone

A tremendous effort is made. Hands flutter over my body, metallic utensils glint in the florescent lighting. I don't know if the lack of pain is from drugs or if I am so foregone that I am past all sensation. I think we ran out of drugs a month ago.

Someone is talking to me. Saying my name. Attempting to rouse me, keep me awake, alive.

"Logan," they say. "Logan can you hear me?"

Logan… Logan… Logan… Who is this Logan you speak of? Is he a man or a fool? Perhaps both. Does he love in vain? Yes, I think so.

NO! No! She loves me. That's right, I almost forgot. She is mine just as much as I am hers. Does that us both fools then? Fools is a fun word to say. Fools, fools, foooools. Foully foolish fools frolic in the flaming field. The field is soaked in blood and wine. Very strange. Very strange indeed.

For some reason I can't think stop thinking about my mother. Her image flashes across my mind's eye and I remember about the way her red hair had blond highlights in the summer, and her fake smile she only used around Jonas and Margo. I think about how we used to go on bike rides together when Dad was away. She had the same bike helmet my whole life, purple and white.

There are tubes coming out of me now, in strategic locations. I can make out certain features in the different people hovering about. I can tell that one of them has too much feline DNA, and another has two different colored eyes. They work in a fluid motion, passing instruments and shouting out instructions to each other. It's all very repetitive and tiresome, but I am glad I am coherent enough to witness their efforts.

Sometimes I drift away and it's nothing but swirling unconsciousness and my mother's eyes flashing in my head. I have her eyes, I think of her every time I look in the mirror.

I wish I had have kissed Max before, when we were alone. I would have liked that. Now, don't get me wrong, I would nothing more than to live through this. I want this to be just another scar to add to my collection. A kiss would have meant death, sure, but that's going to happen anyway. A kiss would have been nice. Poetic. Thus with a kiss I die or any other classic lovers-separating/dieing-kissing-for-the-last-time citation. Plus, I haven't kissed her in a while. A long while. Too long.

I wonder how long I've been on this table. It's seems like it's been hours. It's probably only been a few minutes. Fifteen at most.

The feline transgenic is wiping my brow with a wet cloth. It seems a pointless gesture, but it feel nice and I'd thank her if I could. I find her whiskers oddly comforting. I wonder what her job is here in Terminal City. Does she cleanse all who near death or am I special? I realize she has a long black tail and I watch it sway back and forth behind her. Surely a tail must get in the way sometimes. It could get caught in a door or whack into the person next to you in an elevator.

Keep your eyes open!

If you find this all very confusing, think about how I must feel.

Keep your eyes open!

Fuck, that hurt! What the hell was that? Jesus Christ, I'm already dieing do they really need to poke at me? Wait, I felt something. What the hell does that mean? Is the situation getting better or worse than before?

Keep your eyes open!

I groan and turn my face away from the lights above me. I'm sweating. When did it get so hot? I want to keep my eyes open, but everything is so disorienting.

Keep your eyes open!

Part of me wishes that I was still out there, wherever it was I fell out there. At least I was with Max there. I could have watched her breathe until I died or enjoyed the whole kissing thing. Now I'm just waning in and out of consciousness, waiting for inevitable, thinking of her.

Keep your eyes open! KeepyoureyesopenKeepyoureyesopenKeepyoureyesopenKeepyoureyesopen. Stay alive! Don't die.

She's in shadow, leaning heavily against the wall. Her face is perfection, but her tears are terror while her eyes still hope.

I didn't realize she was still in the room.

There's someone next to her. Tall, shaggy. Joshua.

He pulls on her arm, but she shakes her head. She's staying.

Don't torture yourself like this Max. I watched you die once, it wasn't something I enjoyed. Breath left your lungs and there was nothing I could do. I'd never felt so helpless. Never.

I tried to save you.

"Max. Max. Max. No. Max. No."

"She's gone."

I sat on my couch and observed, in mild fascination, my own destruction.

Why did it feel like this? We only knew each other for a little while. It was only one year.

It only took one minute.

I tried to avenge you.

A long finger caressed a computer screen. A blurry picture was all that remained of you.

But you had your own plans, as always.

On the third day you were gone I sobbed like a little girl for five hours. Then I was empty inside. Then I was angry. Then I was going to destroy them. Then I was The Mighty Eyes Only, avenger of his beloved. Then I was just a man who missed you.

I missed you so bad.

I want to fight this. I want to emerge victorious over the reaper and fate. I want to smile at you again and tell you I'm sorry and hold you and love you and make babies and be with you. That's all I want.

But, but.

I try to focus on your form but my vision is blurry without my glasses.

I hope you'll be okay.

I hope this won't stop you, that this won't destroy and you'll move on. I hope one day you'll just be another old lady who glances out the window of one of those tall buildings and thinks of a bespectacled, scruffy bearded idealist in a wheelchair who cooked you pasta sometimes and loved you always. I hope you'll be happy.

I hope I don't die.

All I can do now is hope and since hope is for losers, my dear, I suppose I don't have much of a chance.

Okay, Important Question Time:

Am I to die?

I know not.

Am I to live?

Who can say?

Was I yours?

Of course.

Were you mine?

Yes, always.

Well then, I'll be alright. It's you I'm worried about.

FIN.