Everything was fuzzy. He could not see and he could barely hear. There were voices, but Shane could not identify them. Every once in a while, he thought he heard a woman. Kayla perhaps. But where was Kim?
What was happening to him? He had no idea, no sense of time or place. His vision was of a grey haze with blurry figures moving about. There was some distant sensations. Pain, maybe. Cold, definitely. And he was moving. Or being moved. He could tell that from the blurry figures.
Was Kim okay? He had a dim sense that she was supposed to be there, but wouldn't she be with him if she was?
In his head, he saw her. Them. Walking through St. James Park on a warm spring day.
The image disappeared and a new one appeared. He was watching her through a lens, no through a telescope. She was crying and he wanted to wipe away her tears.
It changed again. Halloween, and she was Cinderella in a golden dress.
And again. A cabin in the middle of nowhere. He was holding their son, the son they had just brought into the world.
Then he was making love to her. For the first time at Donovan Manor. In front of the fireplace. In their bedroom in Salem.
Kim. He tried to call out for her. Where was she? He needed her.
He needed Kim. More than anything, he needed her.
He realized that the blurs had stopped moving. He had stopped too. But he still had a sense of motion, like they were moving together.
A sound broke through. A siren. An ambulance siren.
Then he remembered. Cal. Being shot. Kayla had been there; he remembered hearing her calling to him. But he could not remember Kim. Had she been there? Was she even alive? He needed to talk to Kim, needed to see her. He tried to say that, but the blurs didn't hear him.
Now he was moving again, or they were moving him. He could see white lights flashing overhead and faces, still blurred, staring into his. There was a lot of noise, but he could not make out the words. Hands pushed him and he was being lifted onto something hard, a bright light blinded him. He tried to jerk his head away, but someone held him still.
"Hold still, Shane." Words finally broke through the haze. The voice. A woman's voice.
"Kim?" He was not sure if he actually formed the word.
The voice did not answer his question, but someone touched his face. It was a softer touch than the others around him, but her voice had an urgency. "You've got to hold on. Fight this."
Fight what? He was no longer aware of the pain. He no longer felt cold. All was calm.
Peaceful.
Slowly, he realized what was happening. He was letting go.
He looked up and saw the woman, now clearly in focus. Kayla. Shane fixed on her, giving her a desperate glance, begging her to listen to him - begging for a chance to say something before he died.