Chapter 68

A Chosen's Desire

"Why…? Why did you...?" A twelve-year old Elena stared at Fisk, a young man of twenty-two.

"A child should never be subjected to that pain. To that torture." Fisk grunted, crouching down and looking over the two bodies that lay at his feet. "I… apologize for your mother. For your father. Ya nadeyus', chto oni zhivut v mire."

"I don't know you…" Elena sniffled, rubbing her nose with a sleeve, breath coming out like smoke from the freezing weather. "I have never seen you… are you friends with… mama and papa?"

Fisk wearily smiled. "No. I have never seen them before. I have no reason other than seeing a child such as you being threatened by death." Fisk looked to a third body, slumped against the wall. Searching through this man's pockets was Detrikov, face set in stone as his friend talked to the girl.

"But… your arm…" Elena pointed at Fisk's bloodied shoulder.

"A small price to pay, molodyye odin."

XXX

Back then, the bullet wound had felt like fire. It was the first time he was shot, and shot protecting the person he would grow to later love and marry. Fisk had told Elena to follow him to a clinic, but they never separated after that. Elena, Detrikov and Fisk together survived the harsh winters in the seediest places Russia had to offer. In fact, they proved quite a team. Fisk's cunning and intelligence, Detrikov's limitless and effective attacks, and Elena was more than willing to act innocent or sad when the time came to lure enemies over.

Fisk had watched Elena grow into a teenager, then a young woman. By the time Elena was eighteen, they had both fallen in love. Every time Fisk had looked at Elena, he was reminded of the bullet wound in his arm, felt the pain, but was glad that he had stopped it from destroying a life as pure as Elena's.

Now, the bullet wound felt more like he had been lightly punched in the stomach, much the way two college students would play around. He barely noticed the blood from the bullet wound. He was analysing his body. The bullet hadn't exited; otherwise his spine would have been in pieces. The bullet was somewhere either inside or behind his stomach, ripping apart more than a few vitals. He didn't feel the pain, merely a small heat like warming hands on a fire.

Behind him, both Cray and Nick watched, wide-eyed, unable to move. Cray knew Detrikov and Fisk enough to know they trusted each other more than any other man, and Nick – in the short time he had known them – knew they were comrades in arms.

In front of him, Detrikov stared, his usual stony look turned over by shock. His arms still hung limp, the pistol slowly slipping from his hand. It fell to the ground with a faint clink, sounding over the quietness in the room.

"…Gregory, I…" Detrikov could hardly speak. He had felt that seed in his mind, but he had fought it. He thought he had won when Detrikov spoke to him. The next thing he knew… he had shot his life-long friend, shot the person Elena loved, shot the person he trusted… shot him.

"Do not speak my friend." Fisk said, his shoulders slightly slumped. "But more than that… do not blame yourself. For this was the work of Gerald Myers, and no-one more."

"My own hand did it… my mind told me to do it… I tried to resist but…" Detrikov grew paler. "I thought I did but I shot you. I did… I did it."

"Do not believe that. Neither I nor Elena would want you to believe that. We would want you to fight. Want you to keep on going." Fisk motioned lightly towards Cray. "Help the people that need helping. Continue our operation, our plans. Help those that risk their lives for me and you, allow them to grow into something more."

"Don't… don't speak like that…" Detrikov muttered. "Do not speak like that, Gregory…"

Fisk didn't seem to listen, but stared at a point over Detrikov's shoulder, his recently open eyes staring into nothingness. "How many orphans did we pick up? Like Elena? How many children did we see, starving and thin, chilled to the bone. How many more were frozen statues of their former selves, souls frozen in place within their husks of bodies. Children. Men. Woman." Fisk took a step back and his leg knocked against a wooden seat. With a sigh he sat down, wincing as he did. "I told you my wish of making something bigger. To help those that needed helping. You supported me… Elena supported me… and we made it happen." Once again Fisk motioned to Cray. "Some of the brightest minds of the planet, brought together for a single purpose… peace of mind… of body… of soul…"

"We knew it wasn't exactly legal. But what could the police do? We grew more powerful. We had people in high places. Slowly we tried to create peace for those that needed it." With one hand on his stomach, Fisk used the other to pull the rose from his jacket pocket. He stared at it, as if mesmerized by the way the petals formed. "Then this happened. Death. You knew how angry I was when I first talked to him. Elena had died, I had gone blind to the world. I was angry because I was meeting with the embodiment of all those frozen souls. Once more we were given a chance." Without moving his eyes, Fisk motioned to Nick. "To save those who were tested by Death. To guide them. Joshua had the right idea. He did. But he is young. We were wise. We helped and we did… we got the information, we've finished off the important men of Myer's reign…"

With a weary sigh, Fisk closed his eyes, looking once more into the blackness he had stared at for many years since the accident on the bridge. "Sometimes I think… that Myers isn't the only problem. Sometimes I think to myself, why would Death test people with these… often unavoidable accidents? He knew they had aspects he wanted. Why did he not find those that had the best and simply choose them without any accident, without any bloodshed, without killing the many hundreds of innocents he so often kills… People like Elena…"

Detrikov was listening intently, without a word or sound. He knew this was important. More important than anything else in the world. A dying man's last words.

"So I came to think about what Gerald was doing… how we could solve both problems… and I think I have it… at least a wish…" Fisk leaned back in the chair. "I believe Death is a simple human. Or was. I believe that Chosen become Death. From the very beginning of our world. The last Chosen survivor will become that which he works for." Fisk placed the rose back into his pocket and pulled something from inside his jacket. "Vladimir… I believe that… that we need to choose a Chosen. We need to make someone not allow all the injustice in the world, so that our dream can be realized… be it… be it Nick here, or Dorothy or David… or even Joshua or Lisa… any of them… let them understand our reasoning, allow people to die by their own choice or by age or illness… when they are ready and prepared. No more murder, no more starvation, nothing… the world will thrive, but death will still happen. It must, for that is nature." Fisk opened his eyes once more, looking at the object he held in his hands. It was a locket with a golden chain. He opened it, and looked at Elena for the first time in ten years.

"Still she is beautiful… I no longer see her death… I now see her waiting with open arms… Now I will get my answers, on if Death if a Chosen or not… But my death will not go in vain. As Miles did before me, I will make a trade… For if am to die, why not bring somebody else back?"

"But who…?" Detrikov whispered.

"I believe that… for us to succeed we need Joshua and Lisa. Joshua will come back if Lisa can forgive him for Miles' death… but Lisa… she is furious, she is sad and perhaps she thinks she should end it. The only way to bring Lisa back is to bring back a man she loves…"

"But… the trade only works for those 'unfairly' killed." Detrikov kneeled down and grasped his friend's hand. "Isaac died due to Death's design. He is not legible."

"I… know this… But a man died for us… beaten by Myers' men for information that he never revealed… Beaten to death…" Fisk closed his eyes once more, and hung the locket around his neck, allowing it to hang open. Detrikov couldn't help but stare at the picture. It was on a particularly chilly day, with Elena hugging Fisk, kissing his cheek. Detrikov himself was in the background, a shadow in the back alley. "…I will bring him back… for he is the only person to persuade Lisa… and perhaps… perhaps my dream... my wish… our wish…" Fisk put his arms on his lap and gave a small smile. "…It shall come true…"

Detrikov felt the hand stiffen, and then loosen. He took a breath and looked up from the locket into Fisk's face. "Gregory… Gregory." Detrikov closed his eyes in pain and stood up. Looking up to the ceiling, Detrikov opened his eyes again, allowing a single tear to slide down his cheek. "Ya poprobuyu moye samoye… luchsheye…" Detrikov spoke with a hoarse voice. "For Elena. For you."

A/N:- Thanks to Princezzshell101 for your reviews (Sorry!)

I hope this came across as I wanted to. I definitely think I'm getting better at 'emotional death scenes' so to speak, and this is probably my favourite death thus far in the story. Not the last, alas, but… perhaps he is near the last death? Sadly, no.

On that note, I would like to give you a list of all known survivors (and main characters): Just so you know who is eligible to kick the bucket (Not including two very important characters referenced last chapter, and you-guess-who Fisk was talking about)

Lisa Valentine

Joshua Valentine

Vladimir Detrikov

Nicholas Casey

Dominika Matveev

Lukas Solveig

Jeremy Edwards

Chloe Marvin (And the baby!)

Jay Blackstock

Alexander Randall

David Trayce

Dorothy Louella

Oh ho, I nearly forgot, we're nearing the end of the act. From the looks of it, the last act will either be the longest, or second longest just before the first act.

FINALLY, it's going to get more Final Destination'y next act, with my added flair. 'Till next time.