As K slowly sat down on the steps to Dr Stelline’s office, he dreams of before.
Before the fight with Luv.
Before he met Deckard.
Before evidence of a child born from human and replicant.
Before he killed Sapper Morton.
Before his world turned over on its head.
He doesn't remember the time of his creation but no ordinary replicant did anyway.
Things truly were simpler then. His words echo back at him from the past.
He dreams of the memories that were never his and the childhood he never lived. Seeking solace in the life of someone who's real.
Was he real?
He misses Joi.
Misses the times when they talked.
Misses the times when he read to her.
Misses the times when they danced.
Misses her eyes and her smile.
He loved her. Still loves her. He wished that things could have been different. That he could have done something to save Joi or at least keep her safe somehow. But she wanted to follow and he could never deny her.
She loved him. That love felt real.
Was she real?
The sky was a greyish white. It felt calm and serene, very unlike the turbulent waves of the sea the night before. The calm after a storm.
The snow felt cold but soft under his back. The blood seeping from his side turning the steps dark red, like spilled wine.
K could feel the gentle caresses of snow on his face even with the overwhelming feeling of pain throbbing in his side.
In the past, he never thought to stop and appreciate the world around him. Was this what people thought of when they die? How the world was perfect yet imperfect? How it simply was?
Even after everything that happened, he was grateful to have had the chance to have seen the things he saw.
Even when those moments will be lost in time forever, like tears in the snow.
Were they real?
K doesn’t know how much time had passed but he had made his peace.
There are no more pages. His history is over.
He wishes Deckard and Ana a happy life. Hopes that they get to live the life they always wanted.
(What he wanted too.)
He has nothing else to lose. What else could be more human than to die for the right cause?
(He doesn’t want to go.)
Time to die.
K feels arms forcefully lifting him up to his feet. He stumbles to right himself but he doesn’t have the strength to keep himself up.
“Shit, Joe. Why the hell didn’t you say anything?!”
He feels disoriented. The arms holding him up and guiding him to the spinner were firm but careful, trying to not jostle his wound. His vision starts to blur.
“Damn it. There’s a first aid kit in the spinner. Just hold on Joe! I’m not gonna let you go out like this. You hear me? Joe!”
As his vision darkens, K- no, Joe thinks that maybe it doesn’t matter whether anything was actually real or not.
That things didn’t have to actually be real to be.
It felt real.
And that was enough for him.