Disclaimer: "Se7en", and all canon characters and characteristics remain the property and rights of Alliance Atlantis. All I own is the writing itself, and any original features and / or attributes portrayed within said writing.
A/N: I needed to take a small break from all the anime fic I've been writing, so I came up with this. xD Enjoy!
I'm sitting inside the interrogation booth, staring out the bulletproof glass. Station's not very busy at the moment. I guess they're all preoccupied with me and my current 'situation'. They told me to wait in here until they figured out the next step. You know, sort out the paperwork.
Paperwork was all there was left to sort out now that John's brain was splattered all over the side of the fucking road.
It feels like I've been sitting in here for hours. I really don't know what they'll do with me at this point. Maybe they'll ask me to plead guilty. Maybe they'll try for insanity, defend it with 'emotional trauma'. Hell, maybe they'll even try to get me off scott-free.
I buried my head in my hands, ran my fingers through my hair. My mind was clear. Barren of thought, free from worry, emptied of any traces of regret. Or any emotion I may have had left, for that matter. Anything I could have salvaged after the incident...was just...gone.
It didn't matter to me, to be honest with you. I really didn't give a shit what happened to me next. Nothing that happened could possibly take anything more away from me. They might send me away for life, but that's already been taken from me because you're gone. What would I even do with the rest of my life if I was set free? Continue on with my job, working endlessly with the monotonous routine while pretending everything's just fucking dandy? Live my life? Meet somebody else?
I couldn't. I couldn't find anyone that meant as much to me as you. No one could replace you. Finding 'someone else' would be disrespectful to your memory.
So this is in your memory.
I stood up and walked over to grab my coat off the rack by the door. I knelt down on the floor to hide it from view before reaching into the back pocket. A quick glance out the window to see if anyone's watching. Somerset's walking out the station entrance. He was in here a few minutes ago, talking to me, trying to empathize. I appreciated the effort, but no words of wisdom would minimize the shock. Not this time.
I think he knew it, too.
Somerset put on his jacket, flipping his collar before he headed out. He glanced at me for a split-second before he walked out the door. I could see it in his eyes. He knew.
Good old Somerset. He knew everything, didn't he? But he didn't try to stop me. Wonder why.
I turned around and slid to the floor, sitting up with my back against the wall. I pull out the wallet from my coat pocket, and continue my search. I find it.
I unstrap the emergency .45 from my ankle and pull back the hammer.
You're dead. My child is dead. The herald is dead, his grand cry left unheard. I guess there's only one left now, isn't there?
This is the only way out of this hell, the only way I can ever see you again. The final ending, the last resort. Hopefully, where you've gone, I can follow.
I hope God's in a good mood today.
I quickly put the gun to my temple. My finger's shaking against the trigger. I hold up the picture of you in my other hand, the picture I pulled out from my wallet. Your smiling face will be the last thing I see.
That's fine with me.
It's kinda funny, you know? We vowed to be together until death did us part, yet promised to love each other through eternity. I think I'd rather keep the latter.
I'll see you soon, Tracy.