Jon couldn't do anything but watch as everything faded away from him.
It's the worst feeling in the world, to realize you never really had a choice at all.
Well that wasn't completely true.
Barry saved him. Barry wanted to help everyone, as did Jon. They chose to do that, they tried to.
After Barry died, he became nothing more than a pawn.
He was only a pawn to Darius, he was only a pawn to Brendan... He found the one person he actually wanted to see, and he was actually given a choice again. Jon stayed with him because the choice sounded nice, it could've been peaceful. They should've drowned at the docks that night.
Then that was taken away, and then he chose to get revenge.
That choice was removed from him by Michael's killer.
He found Michael again on the other side, he chose to stay with him, he didn't want to be here anymore.
That choice was taken away by the same person that shot him just now.
She's the one who wanted him to live, and here she was, shooting him for Brendan.
Jon made another choice, he chose to shoot at Brendan, he chose to get him to chase him. He thought he was the one leading the ambush, but it was all in reverse.
In a way, Jon knew he deserved this. With all the choices his second chance granted him, this was the one he chose, but it didn't make it hurt any less.
He closed his remaining eye, hoping the pain would cease, him leaving with it.
It didn't. It just started throbbing.
It hurt worse the more he laid there.
When you're dying, it's supposed to stop hurting, not hurt worse, and that's when Jon realized it. He wasn't dying.
His eye trailed from the body of his partner to the two laying down the hill nearby.
Jon tried to get up, to shoot them with his revolver. It was out of his hand and he didn't know where it was.
He slowly started flopping down the hill, it was pathetic in a sense, you could've been forgiven for thinking it was comedic even. It was like a fish out of water, his limbs felt like jello.
The static slowly left his body as he forced his way down there. The pain wasn't subsiding, but it was getting overshadowed by something else.
Anticipation, anger? Jon didn't know. Energy.
That's what it felt like.
He tried to help people, but he just wasn't good at it.
They wouldn't let him even if he could.
Maybe... just maybe, he wasn't here to help people.
He was close enough now...
Jon lurched forward, he shot up. His arms gripped Amanda's rifle, yanking it away from behind her.
She didn't even get a chance to turn around before the trigger was pulled.
She did that time.
She finally hit the ground. The barrel was pointed towards her now prone body.
Jon's head turned to look at Alessio, he was running away, too far to shoot from here.
He looked back towards Amanda and Brendan.
He shifted the barrel from the now red-stained girl and shifted it towards the one who caused him so much pain...