The quiet, rhythmic beeps from Kolton's heart monitor lulled Dane into a deep trance, his eyes fluttering as he could feel the exhaustion. Thoughts of the gate, however, swirled with thoughts of goodbye, keeping him conscious by a thread.

"You'll never believe you're ready," I said, appearing in the far corner of the room.

Dane pulled his head from his pillow and rubbed his eyes. "But, I need to be. For him."

His voice cracked under the weight of the words while he stared at his brother, appearing so fragile in his bed. Dane reached over, placing his hand on Kolton's. Pain and disappointment was all Kolton knew, but now a hope for something worlds away from all of that presented itself.

"You're a much stronger mortal than most I've come across," I said, moving closer.

"He's much stronger than me," Dane replied, eyes still focused on his brother. "And that's why he doesn't deserve to be left alone."

Slowly, silently, he brought himself to his feet and took a few steps towards me.

"I know what you're thinking," I said.

"Then, tell me how I can also save Jenna."

"I'm telling you now that it's not possible."

"Is it not possible because it's never been done?"

"No, it's never been done because it's not possible."

Dane turned away from me, beginning to pace, his head down, his hands folding and unfolding as he searched his mind for logical alternatives in an illogical scenario. He mumbled, combing through every idea he held in his mind.

"The price for a saved life is paid through service, correct?" he asked, turning in his pace.

"Correct."

"And when my service is completed, another person will pay the same price?"

"Also, correct."

Dane stopped in his tracks, lifting his head. "What if you took out the need for a successor?"

I furrowed my brow, for the first time not knowing where he was headed. "I'm not quite sure what you mean by that."

"What if I wasn't just the next Gatekeeper? What if I was the last Gatekeeper?"

"You're willing to trade an eternity of servitude for a pair of fleeting mortal lives?"

"Call it 'the curse of grace'," he responded. "Neither of them have had the chance at a normal life and I know they are both capable of great -- amazing -- things." He took a step closer to me.  "This is what I want, Herbert."

His conviction sparked my question, "Do you have any idea how long an eternity is?"

"I've built a career on helping people get to where they wanted to go. And you said that was the job of the Gatekeeper -- being the guy at the door to the hereafter. Give me this chance." He lowered his eyes once again. "Everything I've done -- I've done it because I was good at it, not because I was motivated. Now, I can be both. If you'll let me."

I shut my eyes, reaching out to the farthest distance, beyond time, beyond the fabric of reality. The ethereal rejoice of a commitment with this kind of gravity was wondrous to behold. It had been an age since such sentiment had been shown. I had become numb to the mortals who were plagued with entitlement and ego. This was different. This was special. And the angels sang for Dane Dericaan.

"You have a beautiful soul," I said, smiling before my voice flattened. "For such an average looking guy."

"Are angels able to look in the mirror, Herb?"

Chuckling, I continued, "You will be the last Gatekeeper."

After a quick flash of joy, Dane's grin melted away. "Now, I suppose I'll need to say goodbye."

"You'll have the rest of your life to do so."

He tumbled into a pregnant pause, absolutely speechless and marked with disbelief.

"Wait. What?"

"I told you I would give you what I was given: all the time in the world to say goodbye. While you'll never believe you're ready, you'll find that when the time comes, there's a certain peace which washes over you, cleansing you of all doubt."

Dane started to connect the pieces. "The house fire with your wife. You didn't die in it."

"No," I affirmed. "That was the night I accepted my post, not the night I took it. I had a lifetime to prepare."

"So, all of this, everything that's happened tonight, it was what? Preparing for preparation?"

"Precisely."

"But, what happens to you while I live out my life?"

"Oh, you're worried about me now?"

"Think of it as more of a professional courtesy check," he said. "Really -- haven't you been waiting to see your wife again?"

"I have," I answered.

Dane slouched slightly. "Then, why don't you seem angry about all of this?"

"Because I thought there was a time when I was like you, but as it turns out, you're much more than I ever will be. Nevertheless, there's something you need to know -- the truth about grace...

Kolton's heart monitor began to beep over my fading voice.

"It's not a curse."

The beeping grew louder and louder, a crescendo that jolted Dane awake as I vanished from sight. He clutched his chest, looking from side to side, breathing softly, but erratically.

Nurse Urie stood at Kolton's bedside, taking a tube of blood. "Look who's up. Good morning, Dane."

"Morning, bro," Kolton said, squeezing a stress ball.

Dane's eyes shot all over the room. "What? Who? Where?"

"Morning," Kolton said again, this time emphatically. "You. Dane." He then motioned to the walls and windows. "This. Hospital."

Dane groaned, standing. "All right, smart ass."

"Not just a smart ass," Kolton said. "A smart ass who's now in remission!"

"I don't believe it..." Dane whispered.

"It's true," Urie said as she took the knot out of the rubber band around Kolton's arm. "Preliminary tests look good and we're very hopeful."

"That's... amazing..." Dane mumbled, still awestruck.

"He's a little out of it, Urie. You'll have to forgive him," Kolton said, grinning. "As soon as he's able to get back to work and lather himself into another funk, he'll be all moody and brooding again. You know -- his old self. He's the Raphael to my Michelangelo."

"Are you talking about the artists?" Urie asked, an eyebrow arched.

"No, he's talking about the Ninja Turtles," Dane said, shaking his head.

"Oh, bro, you're not going to believe this," Kolton began. "Apparently, the craziest thing happened to Jenna last --"

"Jenna..." Dane interjected, racing out of the room before his brother could say another word.

He rounded the nurses' station, accidentally knocking over a precarious stack of charts from the elevated desk. Apologizing quickly, he then dashed to the doorway of Jenna's room, only to find it filled with other people, smiling and conversing with her. She had his Montblanc pen out, atop a stack of papers, all filled with scribbles in blue ink.

"Hi, Dane," she said in the middle of her exchange with those in the room. "Come on in. I'd like you to meet my family."

"Ummm... hi," Dane muttered, a small wave to her mother and father, sister and brother.

"I spoke with Urie a little earlier," she said, beaming. "It seems like the sixth floor ward is filled with good news this morning. Remission must be contagious."

Dane sighed deeply, feeling a warmth he had never felt before, but gladly welcomed. Jenna extended a small green cup.

"Jello?"

//// The End