Wiffledust Creative Writing Challenge: Here's lookin' at you

He held her hand as hard as he could, knowing that all his strength now was but a feeble echo of what it used to be. He realized that his grip was not to keep himself here but to keep her from going, to make her stay and listen.

"Promise me," he whispered. "Promise me that you won't stop them from taking this shell." He stopped speaking to try to pull enough air into his weakened lungs to finish. "This shell I'm in now," he continued. "Fucked over by that damned disease and then by the treatments that were almost as bad. I'm ready to leave it and you don't need it but maybe it will help them to figure out how to keep some other poor son-of-a-bitch from going through this."

He felt her tears dropping slowly on his hand, and he paused to savor the warm wet tracks they left across his wrist on their journey to the sheet. He knew he only had a very short time left and wanted to get done speaking before he got done breathing. Gathering the last of his strength, he feebly went on.

"You know I love you. I've always loved you and I always will. I'll be with you as long as you remember me. And I know you love me, but now you have to let me go, to let go of this physical me, anyway. I'm ready to be done with all this pain and bullshit, and I need you to tell me that you will be OK with that when I do."

He felt her hand tighten on his as her tears continued to fall and then he heard her quiet reply. "I promise. I love you, and I know it's a good thing you're doing. You know I could never stop you from doing a good deed and this is just one more."

"Good," he rasped. "I'm tired now, so you can go in just a minute while I get some sleep." He smiled a little and finished in a barely audible whisper, "Here's lookin' at you, kid."

She smiled a little through her tears and replied with her half of their exchange, "We'll always have Vegas." His labored breathing faded as did the remnants of his grip, and she knew that he had finally left. She squeezed his now lifeless hand one last time as she looked up at the doctor standing on the other side of the bed and nodded. She had had months to prepare herself for this moment and although it seemed vaguely familiar because of that, it was still heart-wrenching. She stood and slowly turned to leave the room.

"If it's any comfort to you," the doctor said, "despite all he went through, his corneas are still viable and we have a recipient here that can use them."

Her smile got bigger and still facing the door she replied, "It's nice to know that part of him will still be looking at someone." As she walked out of the room she whispered again, "And we'll always have Vegas."