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March's leg muscles burn as he scrambles off the table, the table tipping from his weight. The film reel was tucked safely in his arms, his plaster wrapped fingers clutching it so tightly it hurt.
His entire body hurt, actually. It had been one hell of a week. But he couldn't stop, not yet. Adrenaline took care of most of his pain, sending him shooting forward as gunshots rang through the room. Johnny boy (or whatever the fuck his name was) was on his heels, firing round after round.
March whips around before he reaches the window, another gunshot ripping through the air. He feels the bullet hit the film reel, the force knocking him back with a grunt. The glass behind him shatters easily. Sure, it isn't deadly but fuck did it hurt.
He rolls, and so does the film. It bounces off the roof, sailing down to the ground. He moves before he can think, hurling himself off to follow it. More glass awaits him, the sound of it shattering incredibly familiar at this point.
March lands hard on top of the car below, a groan of pain leaving him. He slowly rolls off the car, blinking hard to reorient himself. A pinprick of pain joins the ever growing mountain of aches.
He hardly has a chance to orient himself before a man shoves past him, sending him stumbling. He sprints after him, after the reel, but a gunshot stops him. A brief look upward shows John boy being tackled by a figure dressed in black. Healy.
March ignores the way his heart squeezes at the thought. No time, not right now. He turns on his heel, resuming his chase. If you asked him what happened next, he honestly couldn't tell you. A mixture of car doors, windshields and rolling around a lot. He swears he hears an explosion while hes wrestling the man to the ground.
The film skitters past, he stumbles after it. His hand lands on top of it as he falls, then he sees it. It's smudged. The writing that haunts him day and night. The words he can never seem to bring himself to scrub off.
" You will be happy :)"
A groan is all he can manage. Though his thoughts are much happier.
They won. He has it, he finally did something good with his godforsaken life. He didn't break his promise.
March lies there for probably much longer than he needs, before dragging himself to his feet. He can't help the giddy smile and tears in his eyes as he trudges back towards the building. He sees Holly and Healy standing together, smiling.
He raises the film reel triumphantly when they look his way, smile widening.
But something was wrong. The smiles on their faces vanished the moment they saw him, replaced by a look of horror. He'd never seen Healy look like that. Did he have something on his face?
He furrows his brows, looking down briefly over himself. Nope, all normal. His red - no, burgundy - shirt and pants were a little worse for wear, sure, but they weren't that-
Oh.
Hadn't he worn cream colored pants today?
Blood. It was blood, too much of it. He feels dizzy suddenly, gagging. Was it coming from him? Oh god. He wobbles, pressing a hand to his abdomen.
Mistake. Bad, bad mistake. His shirt is sticky, soaked with warm blood. It was definitely his. Another gag. He looks back up, but Holly and Healy are gone. Probably on their way, he hopes.
He teeters to the side, stumbling over to a car. He unceremoniously collapses beside it, a quiet whimper escaping him. He fumbles with the buttons of his shirt, peeling it away.
Another mistake. A hunk of glass is embedded into the skin, blood oozing out around it. He has to turn his eyes away, dry heaving. His breathing becomes rapid as the fear sets in, his hands trembling.
He was gonna die. His luck had run out. Maybe he really did jinx it with his stupid words to Healy earlier. He was so fucking stupid. Stupid, stupid March. Can't even get a stupid film reel without dying.
Couldn't keep his promise. He promised he would stay, for Holly. Even on the days he wanted to simply drink until he didn't wake up, he stayed. Now, he couldn't even do that.
Hot tears spill from his eyes, a quiet whimper following. "Fuck. Shit, god dammit!" He hisses the words to himself, trying in vain to scrub his tears away. All he manages to do is smear blood on his face. He gags again. He shouldn't cry. Holly would be here soon, she shouldn't have to see this.
Moments after the thought, Holly and Healy appear in his sights. Racing down a flight of stairs, sprinting to his side.
"Dad!" Holly cries before she even reaches his side, dropping to her knees beside him. Her hands — far, far too small to be coated in blood — press against his abdomen lightly. A whine of pain leaves his lips before he can smother it. "Dad, no — nononono-"
"Shh, shh- 'sok, Holly, don't cry-" March rushes to comfort her, forcing a weak smile onto his face. A bloody hand raises to touch her cheek, but she flinches away at the sight. "'m sorry, lost.. Lost my handkerchief.." His words were beginning to slur, his mind foggy and heavy.
Healy joins his side soon after, hands hovering over Holly's. "March- Holy.. It's ok, you're gonna be ok. Just- One second, ok? The ambulance is coming. Ok March?"
March can tell by his expression. Its too much blood, too fast. But he still lies. March appreciates it, a little. He always knew how to make him feel better.
He blindly grabs for Healy's hand. God, he was woozy. Had it always been so hard to think? He blinks hard, forcing his eyes to focus on the man. "Healy, Healyhealy-" The name comes out slurred, jumbled. Frantic. "Holly, you have to- Don't leave her. Please. Please, Healy-"
Healy's face scrunches, shaking his head quickly. There are tears running down his cheeks. Huh. He never thought he'd see Healy cry.
"No, March- You're gonna be fine, just.. Just hold on, ok, fuck-"
"Healy, please. Promise me, please!" He insists, squeezing his hand with as much strength as he could muster. Holly lets out a sob beside him, hands still pressing against the wound in her best attempt at pressure.
Healy relents, lip quivering. "…. Ok. I promise. I won't leave." He whispers it, squeezing March's blood slicked hand with his trembling one.
March finally smiles, nodding a few times. Holly would be safe. He hated to leave her, he still had so much to apologize for. So much to tell her. He wouldn't see her grow up, wouldn't see her get married one day. Wouldn't see her career, wouldn't get to be by her side through it all. Maybe it was better this way.
He hated to leave Healy, too. He never got to tell him, huh? He doesn't know if saying it now would make it harder. He tries, anyway. He raises their connected hands slowly, pressing a shaky kiss to Healy's knuckles. Used to hurt so many people, yet now they trembled and held his hand so gently. Healy lets out an ugly sob.
He wants to say more, but he's losing time. He was having a hard time keeping his eyes open now. He looks back to Holly, putting his free hand on her cheek. He carefully wipes the tears away as best he can, mumbling to her. "'msorry, Holly. You look so much like your mother, y'know." Holly sobs harder at the words, shaking her head frantically.
"Dad, don't go. Please, just a little longer, it's -" A gasp for air. "The ambulance, it's almost here. Please, please.."
March shushes her again, tone still frantic. He had too much to say. "I love you. I love you, ok? You're my whole world. Everything."
Holly hiccups. "I love you too, just.. Please, just stop saying that stuff!"
March couldn't think straight anymore. Is this what dying was like? Fear, guilt, a floaty feeling? God. This sucked.
He can't help the whimper that leaves him. "'mscared- sorry, I'm sorry, I can't -"
He trails off, eyes flicking between Holly and Healy frantically a few more times, before they settle straight ahead. His rapid breaths slow to a stop.
—
Healy feels the hand in his go slack, his jaw clenching hard. He was gone. He'd seen the light leave enough peoples eyes to recognize it. But this was different. March wasn't supposed to be so still, so quiet. He was always moving, talking, something.
Holly begins to wail the moment his hand falls from her face, her hands finally leaving his wound to shake his shoulders. "Dad! Dad, no! Dad, please, pleaseplease-" Her voice is shrill, panicked.
Healy needed to get her out of here. He carefully grabs her arm, gently tugging. "Holly, he's gone, we should-"
"No! No, no! We can still help him, Mr Healy please!" She shrieks, ripping her arm from his grip to cling to her unmoving father. She throws her arms around his shoulders, sobbing hysterically as she pleads with him.
Healy inhales a shaky breath, his own tears making it hard to see. He grabs her arm again, voice quiet and borderline begging. "Holly, please. You shouldn't see this anymore."
Holly wails, her words incoherent at this point. Healy manages to peel her off eventually, though she goes kicking and screaming. Healy tries not to look at March's blank eyes as he drags her away.
When they're a few feet away, he bundles her in his arms. She fights that too, pounding at his chest with her fists with all the strength a 13 year old could muster. Her fight lasts for about one minute, before she relents.
The girl collapses into his arms, sobbing into his shirt. Healy keeps her tightly against him, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. They cry together for god knows how long, Healy stops keeping track.
By the time the ambulance appears, they're sat on the sidewalk together. Healy still has one arm around her, keeping her pressed to his side protectively. She stares straight forward, hiccuping occasionally. Her hands and cheek were still streaked with blood. March's blood.
Healy won't let her look while the paramedics load March onto a stretcher. He watches the body bag zip up, eyes straining to watch his face. Like if he looked hard enough, he would move. His nose would scrunch up, like it did when he laughed. His lips would move into a smug little smirk, before he jumped off the stretcher to announce his clever prank. But no movement came. His arms were too pliant when the paramedics moved him, and it made Healy's stomach churn.
He gently taps Holly's shoulder, whispering to her. "C'mon. We'll meet the ambulance there." His voice was hoarse, exhausted.
Holly simply nods silently, her expression blank. She was too quiet, but so was Healy. The world was too quiet, he thought.
Everything would be, now that he was gone.