A Visit

     The room was nice. Wood walls, carpet floors, thick rugs. There were pictures hanging everywhere; family photos both new and old. He was happy in all of them. At the corner was an empty bird cage.
     If it hadn't been for the sounds of the breathing machine and the heart monitor, it might've been a cozy room.
     Jackson stood at the doorway for a while, breathless; quiet. Blue eyes stayed fixated on the figure laying in bed.
     He'd taken a fall, was what the young investigator told Jackson when they met. He'd taken a fall and never fully recovered.
     It weakened him, left him open for an illness, said the identical police officer. One came, and it wasn't leaving.
     Still, Jackson stood, and stared. He didn't move. He couldn't. His legs felt so, so heavy. Like stone. Every time he formed a thought, it would pop at the persistent beep of that heart monitor, or the slow rasp of the breathing machine. It left him with a blank mind. There was only one thing he noticed there, one voice, one phrase that lingered at the far back:
     I'm scared.
     His legs reacted to it, trudging forward by a step. The figure on the bed heard it and slowly turned. Jackson stifled his breath. His legs moved again, and again. No, he heard his mind beg weakly, I'm not ready.
     Soon, he found himself at the edge of the bed. Only a thin, white veil draped over the bed stood between the two. His heart was beating so fast in contrast to the machine's slow beeps. He could feel a cold sweat forming against his forehead. A shaking hand slowly reached up and pushed the drapery away.
     On that bed was Cecil, aged and old. He didn't look like the small, young, irritated man he used to be, but now an elderly one tired of running, and ready to rest.
     Jackson said nothing at first, simply taking in the sight. You're not a boy anymore, he wanted to joke, but feared that opening his mouth would cause more pain instead. He swallowed it back, instead, and examined the wrinkles and the liver spots; the soft, white hair that replaced the once bright blonde they shared.
     Then the oxygen mask.
     It covered so much of Cecil's face, obscuring it from the thief's view. He hated it, he wanted to rip it off. A deep breath reeled the tingling emotions back for just a bit longer.
     Veiled, brown eyes opened just a crack, then grew wider when they recognized who they were looking at. "... You..." Cecil whispered, his weak voice slightly muffled by the mask. The heart monitor grew faster just a touch. "Jackson... It's you..." He was happy, and he was sad. "Not a day older... than when you went missing..." For a moment, his voice had grown distant, as though he were talking to himself.
     The heart monitor slowed, and silence settled. Jackson hated the feeling, he couldn't stand it. Fear goaded him, he opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced when Cecil smiled at him once more. "I'm still so happy to see you again," he breathed. Jackson froze, Cecil continued, "Still so happy and energetic... I bet you're... causing havoc with all the angels..."
      Jackson didn't say anything, he couldn't. It was getting harder to breath, and to see. He blinked rapidly to avoid tears coming, not wanting Cecil to see them. I don't know how much longer I can do this, he told himself.
     "Are you here... to pick me up...?"
     Jackson's eyes widened slightly. Cecil stared back with that small smile, waiting patiently for his response. The silence came back.
     He took a silent, shaking breath, then smiled. "... Yeah," Jackson answered. He moved closer and sat at the edge of the bed, setting a hand over his uncle's. "I came to get you. Thought it'd be fair since it's been a while." He paused. "M-Mom's there, too! She's better now, and said she wanted to see you. Grandpa's also there-- Everyone is! Don't... Don't tell them I told you, but they're planning a party. Got your birds there and everything!"
     Cecil's smile widened. He slowly put his other hand on top of Jackson's, and squeezed it. "I can't wait..." he breathed.

     The slow beeps turned into a dull buzz.
     The hand on top of his stopped squeezing.

     Jackson sat there, alone, tears rolling down his trembling face.
     "I-I'll meet you th-there, C-Cecil."