Author: rewritetime PM
The last thoughts of a dying man. One-shot.Rated: Fiction K+ - English - Drama - Words: 432 - Reviews: 4 - Favs: 4 - Published: 04-08-10 - Status: Complete - id: 5881100
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: Please forgive me any inaccuracies. I've altered some aspects of the scene to fit my story.
Dan Evans silently gazed up into the youthful countenance of his son, narrowing his eyes, attempting to distinguish the words that his cracked lips were forming, but to no avail. Sound had all but crashed out from his ears.
No matter. At least, the pain had seemed to subside.
William vanished from his sight, presumably to get help, but Dan knew that help was beyond his wounds. They were irreparable, slashed beyond the mere mortal fabrications of flesh and blood and bone. These lengthy, barren years had bleached his soul beyond recognition as well.
The sky above him was a soft blue, scattered over with dark clouds where the sun's rays did not beam through to warm his face. It must have meant rain. He gently shut his eyes, wondering if this was what it was like to be at peace.
His family would prosper. His sons would grow into men who would never bend to another man's will, men that he would be proud of. His wife would remarry and learn to smile again, surrounded by the dresses and pretty items that she deserved after such a difficult, trying marriage.
Dan sighed inwardly, sorry that he could not have been that man. But he had done what he could, to ensure its possibility. It was enough.
The sun's warmth leeched out from underneath his skin. The cold crept over him, an unwelcome intruder upon his happiness, settling upon his limbs and working its way up. Try as he might, it would not be warded away. It could not be warded away.
Not this time.
At length, bits and pieces of the world around him began to blur together in an indistinguishable line. And in his fading vision, he saw William kneeling over him with what might have been wet eyes. Dan wished he could lift a hand to wipe away those tears, but his arms seemed to be pinned down with invisible weights, slowly dragging him down into the awaiting mire.
It was becoming difficult to breathe.
But damn it all, he would have the last say. The numbness could not drown out the last words that Dan Evans managed to catch, as the darkness closed around him—
"You done it, Pa. You done it."
His eyes glazed over, as the train whistled long and low, resuming its journey along the winding tracks.
Ben Wade caught the 3:10 to Yuma. Dan Evans caught the 3:10 to Rest.