Johnny looked to the ceiling, taking in a slow breath. He could remember his vision getting cloudy, even before Ponyboy and Dallas had gotten there. It had been quiet, then. The silence, weak and everlasting, was broken only by the occasional beep of a machine, or the fumbling of a tube as the nurse changed his IV.
He was weak and his energy was slowly draining from him, and it was taking all his effort, all his energy, to fight this. To fight this...disease. Because, in essentiality, that's what this all was: a disease. The death that was crawling over him, threatening to claim his entire body and spirit, was like a disease.
Then again, he could look at it the opposite way. It was finally going to end. He knew this. Soon, he knew. He couldn't heal from something like this. But maybe it was him who was finally escaping the pain. No more would he have to see his mothers beautiful black eyes hazy and full of anger, anger at him and the world. He wouldn't have to see her, like a broken angel, strung out in her funeral clothes on the floor, or hear her shrill cry. He wouldn't ever see his father, feel the familiar ache of another beating, smell the alcohol on his breath as he spat another insult. What was it Edgar Allen Poe had once said?
"Thank Heaven! the crisis --
The danger is past,
And the lingering illness
Is over at last --
And the fever called "Living"
Is conquered at last."
That poem, that verse, was stuck in his aching head now. It tossed itself around and the words replayed. Maybe he was being saved this way.
After a few minutes, the feeling of pain was fading, and he became more and more tired, losing the ability to care about whether he was winning or losing. Was there a heaven and a hell?
Would he fade into blackness, just cease to exist?
Would his family...not his mother, or his father...his family...would they miss him? Would Darry still set an extra plate for him on thanksgiving, even though he'd never dine with them again? Would Two-Bit, laughing, silly Two-Bit - ever find himself in the solemn graveyard to pay respects? The thoughts where so strange to Johnny, but he did not want to be completely forgotten.
'We beat the Socs!' Johnny could see the excitement in his best friends eyes, but it was replaced quickly and swallowed up by worry. He stared for a few minutes, and Johnny could almost read his mind, read the thoughts running through it. 'What's wrong? Is he okay? Maybe it's the medicines. Is he in pain? It was an obvious sort of worry, one that made him feel loved. Ponyboy cared enough about him to worry, and right now, lying on his deathbed, that meant a hell of a lot - Especially because after tonight, he was on his own.
"Fighting...is useless," He choked out. Was that really his voice? It sounded so far away. He felt his head burning up, and he felt like he was on fire... He couldn't do anything about it, though. He could only lie there tiredly, taking in slow breaths, delaying the inevitable as long as he could. "Will somebody get a doctor in here?" Was that Dally? That voice, so full of anger that hid fear.
"It won't...do any good," He managed, turning his head to the side. It hurt just to move, but he didn't care. No, his ability to care was fading away, just like his life. And he realized this was it. He was dying. Slowly but surely, he was dying. The conversation to him seemed miles and miles away...
He guessed that after a few minutes, Pony and Dally had figured out what he had moments ago, because they where talking to him, begging him to stay awake, asking him to hold on and that he'd be alright. Asking him where it hurt, the way a concerned doctor would... But his doctor had only asked that question after he'd gotten out of the operation, with cold eyes and a face that was still. He showed no emotion, no pain, no pity, no joy. Where all doctors that way? Would he ever find out? He guessed not, because this was the end. No hope.
The blackness was getting closer and closer, and he could feel his limbs starting to stop. He couldn't lift his arm or move his head anymore. "Johnny! Come on, don't..."
Don't what? He wanted to laugh. He wanted to laugh because he knew he was going to die. It was so ...ironic, wasn't it? Johnny Cade had been kicked around, beaten up, and rejected by his family. He'd wanted nothing more than for his life to end.
Now, as it was drawing to a close, he realized how wrong he was. He didn't even have the strength to cry, anymore. And that cut like a knife, to realize he'd really wasted so much time, so much energy, on absolutely nothing
"Ponyboy..." The voice was his own, loud and clear, betraying his complete lack of strength. The room seemed to stop, time even, as he took in another breath to finish the last words that where so important to him.
The younger boy looked at him with watery eyes, biting his bottom lip. The thoughts seemed to be shared between both of them - 'No, no, no, no! Not yet!'
"...Stay...gold."
Smiling weakly, because he knew Ponyboy would understand, he fell back onto the pillow. The smile was gone as quickly as it had come. He could hear the echo of a strangled cry and felt his heavy body, his heavy limbs lifted up, but he could no longer feel the sensation of flesh gripping flesh. Everything was black. His senses went one by one: Touch, taste, sigh, and lastly, hearing.
"God dammit!" Was the last thing he heard - It sounded a lot like Dallas Winston. My gosh, how he was going to miss that boy...
All thoughts suddenly screeched to a halt. Everything became unclear and all thoughts where incoherent. Everything stopped and then...
There was nothing for a long time after that.
Everything faded back in. It seemed to take forever before the flash of white overtook his sight, before he woke up, but it happened so fast...
He stared at his surroundings, mind blank. Where was he? Who was he? Confused, the young boy leaned against the nearest wall and stood.His legs felt like jello, like he hadn't used them in a long time, and he stretched for a moment to get use to them. He looked up through his bangs then, to study his surroundings.
'Beautiful,' He thought breathlessly, watching the white walls of the room. It was stunning, how clean, and how pure this place was. There was no door, no window in the room. It was small, without furniture, without anything. Johnny backed up, swallowing. How was he supposed to get out?
"Don't worry about that," Came a soft voice behind him. "And do not be afraid."
But Johnny jumped out of his skin anyway, swerving around. His eyes, for a moment, locked onto the eyes of the figure in front of him, before wandering. Mouth slightly agape, Johnny realized how beautiful he was...Or was it a girl?
Wavy black locks fell to the boys hips, long bangs falling in front of bright blue eyes. Smiling in a relaxed and comforting way, he reached a pale hand out to Johnny, resting it on the boys shoulder. Johnny's' eyes widened as he looked the figure up and down - He was clothed in a white shirt, light and long sleeved, and tight white pants clung to his thin hips. The edge of the sleeves and the bottom of the shirt where marked by gold designs that sparkled like jewels. An eerie glow seemed to emit from him - Slightly golden, and faded, so Johnny wasn't sure it was really there. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Who was this beautiful creature?
Something made Johnny cringe. In his hand, he was holding a silver staff. At the top, it looked like a large black rose had opened, leaving a grey skull in the middle, and the sight of the skull caused him to shift uneasily. "Johnny Cade," The angel said, and Johnny noticed suddenly the two wings on the boys back.
He couldn't help but stare. He could swear the angel had been saying something, but he was to distracted to realize what.
"...Hmm?" Suddenly catching on, the creature turned to follow Johnny's eyes. "Oh. My wings," He laughed, out stretching them and lifting slightly off the ground. "Johnny Cade, my name is Azrael. I am the Angel of Death." The words where soft, but Azrael held no sadness in his tone. Not even when he said 'death'. What a horrible word, Johnny thought, and that's when it hit him like a ton of bricks. His eyes widened fearfully, and he looked up slowly to the angel, who was watching him sympathetically. "I'm..."
"Dead," He answered, and Johnny turned away in disbelief. How could he...be dead? That night in the hospital, yesterday night, seemed like a dream. This, right now, seemed like a dream...So surreal. He didn't want to believe Azrael, but the older boy reached over to embrace him. "Don't be sad, Johnny. I'm here to help you pass on..."
I don't want to pass on, Johnny thought tearfully, I want to go home...
Johnny thought tearfully,"But you can't pass on..." Azrael said, unhooking his arms from around Johnny. "Not yet...You have a job to do. Of course, you don't have to do it..." Confusion was evident on the sixteen year olds face, which was tilted slightly to the side. What job?
And what about 'passing on'? The thought frightened him. He was in Heaven, wasn't it, since Azrael was an angel? ...Would he stay there?
"Dallas. You remember him, don't you?" And Johnny nodded immediately. He smiled at the mention of his best friend - He could still see him, perfectly, in his mind, like nothing had changed...
"Well...He's in trouble. After you died...He kind of gave up," Azrael said quietly, looking into Johnny's eyes. He understood everything Johnny was going through, every thought in his head, because he was the Angel of Death and doubt was his area of expertise. This made Johnny feel a little more at ease, and he nodded, urging the other to continue. "He's...not doing well. At this rate, he'll be dead before his next birthday. You're the only one who can get him out of this."
Since I died? Johnny mentally echoed, biting his bottom lip. 'But I've only been gone for a day...'"This can't be happening," Johnny thought aloud, putting a hand to his head. "I can't...I'm dreaming."
Johnny mentally echoed, biting his bottom lip. 'This can't be happening," Johnny thought aloud, putting a hand to his head. "I can't...I'm dreaming.""Johnny." Azrael said suddenly, seriously, and the boy looked up to meet the angelic eyes. "You've been dead for six months. There was a funeral, there was a wake, they put you in the ground...Dally was at your funeral," He added, frowning. "You have to believe this, if you want to help him get over your death." Johnny swallowed, nodding. He was having a difficult time wrapping his mind around the idea he was dead, and he'd been dead for months. "Will I get to see Dally again?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper. The weak smile on the angels lips answered him. "Do you want to?"
Johnny closed his eyes. Of course he did. Dally was his best friend, who loved him like an older brother, who would always look after him when he had been alive. Dally had given up, because Johnny was his hope. Even though Dally acted like he didn't care about anything, he'd always had hope, because that's what Johnny was - And once he realized that, Johnny knew he'd have to go back. "Yes," He answered, and Azrael reached to take his hand, leading him out of the room(how? a door Johnny hadn't noticed before, or maybe it wasn't there before, led them out).
Beyond the door, Johnny was shocked to find blackness.
Empty blackness. It wasn't cold or hot, or if it was, Johnny couldn't feel it. He stepped forward in the darkness, turning to look at Azrael, who was flying over slowly, ready to give instructions. "Are you sure you want to do this? It's a scary world down there." Johnny knew that all to well. It was a scary world, all right - Full of drugs, alcohol, murders, fights and broken bottles used to kill. "I have to. It's Dally," He answered, grinning weakly. Was this really happening? Half of him was still convinced this was a dream... And Azrael smiled back, widely, reassuringly. "You'll be fine, as long as you don't blow your cover..."
Cover? Johnny pondered that for only a moment before Azrael moved on. "And...you can only really talk to him in his sleep, when he dreams. You have to help him let go...But you only have a week." The time wasn't long, and Johnny was slightly dissapointed he didn't have more time on earth. It was hard to let go of his home, but revisiting it after death was most likely a rare chance. He wanted to make it worthwhile. "Johnny...It won't be as hard as you think, alright? There's no need to be nervous." His voice was so soothing, so calm, Johnny barely realized he was falling and slipping away. The feeling set in and suddenly fear dawned on him. He knew this feeling, of everything dissolving into sleep. This was death...This...
This must've been how it felt when you travel between the worlds of the Living and the Dead.
Johnny was still thinking when his eyes closed, and soon, everything went black. Nothing happened. Silence. But he could hear himself hit the ground hard a while later, still half asleep.