Title: His Mistake, Part 5/5

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Warnings: Character Death (duh)

A/N: Written for impromptu50. Final chapter of the 'His Mistake' series. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed, and not just for this story. Every review I have ever received is like a little gift in my inbox. And I love gifts. Thanks everyone! :)

Speaking of the reviews I've been receiving recently, I just want to assure y'all - I am not a psychotic serial killer. :) Seriously. I know I write crazy, morbid things (which involve lots of people dying), but I am a totally normal person. Just want to make sure y'all know that . . . ;-) M'kay.

Summary: Perry wonders about life after execution.

He used to hate quiet time.

Every Sunday from the time he was born until junior high was declared 'quiet time'. Mostly it was so his parents could have angry sex without interruption, but sometimes it seemed to serve no purpose except to slowly bore him to death. He wasn't even allowed to play with his legos. Those bastards . . .

During college he had developed a tolerance for quiet time. Sundays were 'quiet days', and the dorm mods were quite strict in their discipline. Parties were for Friday nights and Saturdays. Sundays were for recovery. Didn't he know anything? Turn that music down!

After Jack was born he had learned to love quiet time. He now understood the significance of angry parental sex on the weekends. Very important in maintaining a healthy relationship with the witch he called his not-wife. And if that child touched his legos there would be hell to pay. Those things were noisy.

Perry sighed and looked around his new home. He had been transferred to a special set of jail cells, those reserved for the condemned. His execution was scheduled to occur in four days. Wardens kept him on round the clock surveillance, in case he tried to off himself before the doctor did it for him. He shook his head. That didn't make any sense. Why waste precious man hours to keep someone from dying if you were just going to kill him later?

He was learning to hate quiet time again.

He felt nervous. His remaining days were few.

The only good thing about the transfer was that he had a window now. He hadn't seen the sky in months. It was nice to watch the clouds drift by, become storms, rain themselves out and repeat.

Perry sat on his bed, his back resting uncomfortably against the rough cinderblock wall. He noted how everything in life tended to go in cycles. Everything. People, plants, weather, governments . . . Things only lasted for so long before they were torn down, just to begin again. He didn't understand why life was like that. Why get rid of a good thing just to start over?

He cocked his head to the side and stared out the window, running through his list again. Well, maybe most things that died deserved to. But not plants. They didn't do anything bad. Not really. Unless you hate . . . oxygen. And shade. And food, and wood. Then they were terrible.

Perry rolled his eyes at himself. He wondered what these cells were lined with. He felt like the intelligence was slowly being sucked out of him. He'd been having strange thoughts recently, all circling around in his head, constantly coming back to touch on the same subjects.

Stretching out, he lay down on the cot. He turned his eyes momentarily to the officer posted to guard him during the day. The elderly man sat hunched over in his chair, eyes closed, chest rising and falling at a slow, rhythmic pace. Perry offered the man a small smile and closed his eyes. He had recently found a new love for sleeping. The best part about it was waking up. He wouldn't get to do that much longer.

Perry wondered how literal the life cycle was. If he died here, would he be born again somewhere else? Would he come back? Did it work like that? Perry had never given much thought to the afterlife. Somehow he had always expected he might live forever. Maybe you do live forever, just not in the same body.

He stood at the window, staring up at the nighttime sky. A hand came up to rub over his face. Thoughts like these made his head hurt.

Perry had never put much stock in the idea of a Heaven. All that religious crap did was make him angry. Good people are rewarded and bad people go to Hell? That didn't make any sense. Good and bad are purely subjective terms, human-made descriptions to categorize people in an attempt to control them. Surely God didn't work like that. How do we know that his/her/its idea of good and our idea of good are actually the same thing? People waste their entire lives speculating on this crap.

And here I am, he thought to himself. Wasting the last day of my life. He wondered if his sister would be proud.

But honestly - would someone like him find his way to Heaven? He had dedicated his life to saving others. He had been a good father. A good husband, kind of. And he had truly cared about . . . well. Him.

So he went a little crazy for a moment! So what? Everyone did that at some point. Not the killing, necessarily, but everyone did things they regretted. Should one mistake really keep him out?

Granted now, Perry countered himself, that there is somewhere to be kept out of. Maybe it's just a big black . . . nothing. Maybe it's nothing. Like being unborn. There was nothing before him. Why should there be something after? No one can prove there's anything after this. Insects probably don't have a Heaven. Why should we have one? Because we stand upright and have opposable thumbs? Because we can think and reason and speak? Why should any of that matter?

Groaning, Perry slipped down the wall, curling himself up into a tight ball on the floor. Some might mistake his ranting as a prayer. He hoped he hadn't been praying. Too cliché.

He rested his forehead on his knees. He wondered if JD was up there. Or somewhere. Anywhere. He trembled slightly at thinking his name. He had tried to keep the kid from his thoughts while here. The young doctor had strayed into his dreams occasionally but eventually Perry had managed to quash those as well. But now he missed him. He buried his suddenly wet face in his hands.

If there was anything afterwards, he knew JD would be a part of it. There wasn't anyone more innocent and purely good than him. He deserved it. He deserved eternal happiness and . . . whatever else there was. He wondered if JD could see him. He craned his head back, peering out the window at the pricks of white amid the black sky. He wondered if JD would be disappointed in him.

Probably not, Perry chuckled to himself. The kid loved me too much. Too much.

Perry's smile slowly faded from his face. He wondered if JD had actually loved him. He'd never given it any thought before. He shook his head. Now was not the time. It was too late for thoughts like that. They would be coming for him soon.

Perry lay back on a table. A light shone above his face. He felt like he was in a dentist's office. There was even the hideous floral wallpaper ringing the room to complete the illusion. It was supposed to relax him. He felt his muscles clench slightly.

The flowers weren't working.

His wrists and feet were bound to the table. A small circular pillow had been placed beneath his head. He tried to steady his breathing. It would be just like falling asleep, Frank had said.

A face hovered above his. A mask hid most of the face from view. "Just relax," the doctor murmured. Perry heard someone behind him preparing a tray. Something clanged loudly.

Perry kept his eyes on the executioner. "I killed one person," he said. "How many have you killed?"

The doctor's eyes were unreadable. "Just relax," he said again. Perry grunted at the words. His eyes flicked down to his arm as a latex finger swabbed an alcohol patch over his skin.

"Futile effort, don't you think?" Perry asked, surprised at the soft tremble in his voice. The doctor glanced at him, then moved out of Perry's line of vision to throw the swab away. He returned holding a syringe. He pushed on the depressor experimentally, noting the drops squirt out of the needle. The doctor brought the needle to his arm. Perry wondered if he should watch.

Suddenly Perry wished desperately for a Heaven, or even a Hell. He didn't want to die. He didn't want this to be the end. He wanted to see his son grow up. He wanted to see his childhood home. He wanted to see the halls of Sacred Heart. He wanted to see spiked black hair and bright blue eyes.

Instead he saw a needle slowly slip into his skin. He felt the death serum entering his vein. The doctor pulled away and turned to dispose of the used instrument. When he came back, he simply stood beside Perry, hands folded. Waiting.

Perry closed his eyes. Frank was right. It was . . . just . . . like . . .

A/N: hahakhasldfhl! I'm done! Please, please, dear God please tell me what you think. :)

Big A/N for those who've been following along with this story: I'm planning on a sequel - sort of. The story will kind of be a continuation of this story, picking up where this chapter ends. How is that possible with everyone dead, you ask? It just . . . is. It features Cox and JD, so if you liked this story I hope you'll stick around with me for the next one. If anyone wants more details on it, I'll be glad to tell you. I just don't feel like typing more right now. Gotta go to work.