Chapter 70

No More

"You are an idiot." The doctor, a man in his forties from England, said through the cigarette that hung in his mouth.

"So says the doctor smoking in front of his patient." Detrikov grunted, staring hard at the wall as the doctor dealt with the amputation wound.

"This-" The doctor tapped the wound, causing Detrikov to wince slightly. "…Isn't smoking. Amputating your own arm? I'm surprised you didn't up and bleed out while walking down the street. Christ knows how the police didn't pick you up." The doctor pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and stubbed it on a tray, before standing up and grabbing something from the table. Detrikov eyed it wearily, causing the doctor to smirk. "Don't you look at me like that. If you wanted proper treatment, you'd go to the hospital. You came to me." Raising the blowtorch, the doctor continued to smirk. "It'll only burn for a while."

XXX

Seconds away from knocking on the door, Nick heard the yell from the room, a yell of pain. Thinking something bad had happened to Detrikov, Nick pushed the door open to be confronted with the smouldering stub of Detrikov. Both Detrikov and the doctor looked to the former policeman.

"Can I help you?" The doctor said. "Unless you plan on dying any-time soon, I'm dealing with a patient. Besides, haven't I just patched up your shoulder?"

"No, I just heard…" Nick shrugged slightly, embarrassed. "I thought-"

"Don't worry, kid, it ain't the worst scream someone's had under my care." The doctor said, trimming off some blackened skin with scissors. He placed a wet cloth of icy cold water over the stub.

"What did you want?" Detrikov asked as the doctor cleaned more of the blackened skin flakes off. "You cannot just pass by the end of the corridor."

"I… uh…" Nick started to scratch his shoulder, causing the doctor to glare daggers at him. Nick stopped immediately with a small 'sorry'. "You're the… leader, now, right?"

Detrikov looked to the floor for a moment before answering. "I guess."

"So when are you going to call the other survivors over?" Nick asked. "I mean, it's all over, right? It was hard, people were lost but the fact of the matter is Myers is gone… he was the bad guy, wasn't he?"

"I guess it is over." Detrikov confirmed as the doctor started to bandage the stub of his arm. "We still need to find Jason, but otherwise, yes."

"So you need to gather the other survivors." Nick said. "They need to know that they don't need to worry about their lives anymore."

"Everyone needs to worry about their lives." The doctor put in. "You get careless, thinking your 'safe', you'll get hit by a truck crossing the street without looking." The doctor pulled another cigarette out and lit it. "Don't take off that bandage for a while, otherwise you'll accidently rip the wound right open again."

Detrikov nodded, standing up. "Thank you, doctor."

"Next time, just cut off a finger?" The doctor smiled as Detrikov guided Nick out into the corridor.

Shutting the door behind him, Detrikov looked down at Nick. "I'll let the survivors know via the radios."

"Okay…" Nick nodded before chewing on his lip.

"What?" Detrikov asked bluntly.

"It's just… well…" Nick couldn't help but smile. "We don't have to stay here anymore. We can go back to our previous lives."

"As much as you are able, yes." Detrikov confirmed.

"Then I guess we won't be meeting again. Probably." Nick almost offered his right hand, but considering the injury of Detrikov's, offered his left for a handshake. Detrikov grasped it quickly before letting go. "I want to thank you and Fisk. Without you guys… well, I doubt many of us would be alive right now. Myers would be doing all sorts of things."

"No point thinking about what could have happened. What has happened, did happen. That will never change." Detrikov paused his walking. "The survivors needed help. Gregory offered that, and by extension me. It was nothing personal. Merely business." Detrikov blinked. "Just remember, you can forget about this whole organization as much as you want. But we'll never forget about any of you. Because if you decide to open your mouth about us, you'll find a bullet to your head."

Nick chuckled slightly after a tension filled second. "I think I, uh, have had enough bullets involved in my life thank you." With another slight shrug of his shoulders, Nick left Detrikov on his own.

Nick walked all the way to the outside before taking in his situation properly. It had been… a surreal experience, ever since Willingboro. He was a simple beat cop with his partner, and now he was saying goodbye to a no doubt illegal organization. In only a matter of hours he had killed more men than in his career. Myers was dead, the survivors were free… he was free… Nick frowned. He should have been happy, ecstatic. But now he really thought about it…

Their innocent eyes took in their father being shot in front of their eyes.

Nick grit his teeth and clenched his fists. No matter how he looked at it, he had killed a man in front of his family. He should have done something else, taken Myers outside or… or somehow got the kids and wife into the other room and locked the door. Even if it was just the wife he may have gotten over it, but two children… how bad would they grow up? Knowing that a man from out of nowhere killed their father.

"Now that's a weird expression."

Looking up, Nick saw Lukas raising an eyebrow. "What is?"

"You. You look like you can't stop smiling but are trying to grimace at the same time." Lukas took in the sling that Nick's arm was held into. He frowned. "Did I miss something?"

"No… No, not much…" Nick scratched his chin. "Well, actually, that's kind'a an understatement."

"Why?"

"Well, it's over." Nick said.

"…Over?" Lukas clearly wasn't catching on.

"The list, the vision, everything. The person threatening death is dead, therefore he has no need for us, therefore we have been freed from that godforsaken list." Nick said quickly, a smile coming to his lips again. How come it's easier to smile when others are around, but you see those eyes when you are on your own?

"We're…" Lukas blinked. "Like that? Just like that? Are you sure?"

"Couldn't be more certain." Nick nodded. "We go back now."

Lukas glanced at the sky a moment. "Wow… that's… kind of sudden. I mean, one moment we're watching out for 'accidents' and now we're told, 'Hey, head on back to your previous lives.'"

"What else can we do though?" Nick asked.

"I guess nothing." Lukas blew out breath. "How can we just go back though? Do we... like, do we try to ignore what happened? Think of it as a nightmare? We can't just say 'that's that' and head on back."

"We have to try though. I mean, I haven't paid my bills." Nick chuckled, before frowning. "Although, my house is kind of… gone."

Lukas wiped a hand down his face, a smile slowly growing on his lips. "So we are able to just head on back… That is pretty… that is pretty unbelievable…" Lukas turned to Nick again. "I am finding it really hard… say it again, 'cause it's hard to register."

"Sure. I find it hard to believe too, but it's really over. We can go back to our normal lives. No more worrying about death. No more fighting for our lives. It's over. It's simply that… well, simple."

XXX

The note, the simple piece of paper, ink and paper, nothing else, was like an addiction. No matter how much she tried to look away from it, her eyes were drawn from her sleeping daughters back to the note. Beatrice frowned, her hair hanging loose over her eyes. It was a question of: why? Why would he leave that note? Why would the man who caused her husband's death leave it?

Beatrice turned away from the paper again, looking at Abby and Mary. Abby was murmuring slightly in her sleep, while Mary was on her back, mouth open, one hand scratching her belly. God knows how they did it. Sleeping. Beatrice had tried but the nightmares kept her awake. Were they having nightmares as well? Were they constantly seeing their father's brains blown out the back of his head? Would it come back to them later in life? Be in their heads forever?

Shaking her head, Beatrice stood up in an attempt to get rid of the pins and needles that had invaded her legs. Walking over to the window of her sister's apartment, Beatrice looked out over the darkness. It had just hit ten o'clock, although the lights were as bright as ever. Vehicles moving in a futuristic anthill. Where was he? Beatrice's thoughts turned to the man. Dressed in jeans, a white shirt. Simple enough. But striking. He was tall, short hair. Beatrice placed him as possibly a policeman or a fireman.

What was the man doing right now? The man had looked so full of regret as he pulled that trigger. As if he really didn't want to do it. At this thought, Beatrice looked back at the note, her face drawn with a lack of sleep and relative shock. It wasn't really that bad, all things considered. There was a faint dull roar in her head, but otherwise, Beatrice wasn't all that affected about Gerald's death. And that positively scared her. He was my husband… I should be weeping and frantic… Why aren't I?

Beatrice picked up the piece of paper once more and read it for what had to be perhaps the twentieth or thirtieth time.

I'm sorry. I know this isn't enough, but what else can I say, especially on paper? What I did, I did with a mix of regret and decisiveness. I had too. Gerald Myers was an evil man. I know that will be hard to stomach, but it is the truth. The reasons would occupy far too much space. He has killed an innocent boy, dictated a disaster that killed many innocents. But he would not tell you any of this. Chances are, he has been into your minds. But you don't want to hear that. You will be grieving, I know, I realise this. Just know that… just know that if you ever want revenge. If you ever want to give vengeance to your husband, then come to me. I'll be easy to find. I left the gun tucked under Gerald's arm. Use it, if you see fit. I will not argue with that decision. For I shot a man in front of his wife, in front of his children. No matter how evil he was, you never should have seen that.

If you need to, find me. Deal with it as you see fit. Just know that it needs to be your decision. Not Myers. But yours.

I'm sorry.

-Nicholas Casey

Reading this again, Beatrice's eyes turned to the pistol that lay on the table. She hadn't even touched the thing after bringing it here. The object of her husband's death. It was then, staring at that pistol, that her thoughts seemed to clear. She no longer felt that dull roar. Instead, it had opened into a particular anger she had never felt before. Somehow, and this scared her, she could envisage picking up that pistol and firing it through that man's head in a mirror image of her husband.

Bringing her arms up to her shoulders, shaking, Beatrice forced herself to look away from the gun and back to her daughters, her sweet daughters. Beatrice found her mind going to one place.

He did this. Nicholas Casey did this to them. I could handle it myself, but he has ruined their lives. He took away their father.

Beatrice felt a cold shiver up her spine at this thought and immediately shut it down. Feeling a lump in her throat, Beatrice continued to watch Abby and Mary, before her eyes slowly strayed back to that pistol.

Can I really do that?

…

I want to.

A/N: Thanks to Princezzshell101 for the review!

Okay, I have a dilemma. The next Act is looking… well, long and epic. It will be true to Final Destination roots and of course, my final section of writing on this site. But, here's the thing.

Should I put Act 4 in Final Destination Revelations, or should I make Act 4 it's own story? It'll be up to you guys, since I really don't know which I should do. It'd be nice for suggestions, please? If I don't get any, I'll just go with doing it in this story.

Anywho, I'd give it two more chapters until the end of this act. 'Till next time!