Disclaimer: This never really happened and will probably never happen… Duh. Oh yeah, this is set in the near future. Questions, comments and death threats are more then welcome since this is my first KoRn fic.


It started as a soft tickle in the back of his throat. Just that. Just a simple tickle. Jonathan coughed absently into his hand to relieve it and went back to gazing at the road though the tinted glass of the tour bus. Off to the side of him he heard Fieldy’s gentle snoring as the bass player slept away what was left of his hangover from the previous night. In a way Jonathan envied the man. He envied the way Fieldy could drink himself drunk, but not do it to overkill at the same time. He had a special kind of control that Jonathan lacked. He wasn’t an alcoholic.

Jonathan watched, fascinated as Fieldy continued to snore away. Suddenly the tour bus hit a slight bump and Fieldy’s jaw popped open just slightly, just enough to allow the beginnings of spittle to form at the corner of his mouth. As Jonathan watched the spittle began to collect and slowly cascade down the other man’s chin.

** Fuck, he looks like my son. ** He thought, smiling to himself and turning his eyes back on the road. There wasn’t much to look at... There never was at this part of the country. Yellow line, yellow line, yellow line, yellow line... Ohhh... Was that a tree?.... Nope... Fence post. Then some more yellow lines. Eventually Jonathan’s dark eyes glazed over and his head bobbed a few times as he tried vainly to stay awake. Sleep won out after all and soon the singer soon joined Fieldy in the drool fest.

"WAKE THE FUCK UP!"

"Ahhh!" Jonathan and Fieldy screamed at the same time, both jumping to their feet. Fieldy was the first to unclog his sleep gunk filled eyes. "Damnit David! I otta kick your ass."

The drummer just grinned boyishly at the two. "We’re here!" He replied in a sing song voice, pointing outside the window to show that the bus had indeed stopped.

"Great!" Fieldy said sarcastically. "How long we got till the show?"

David rolled his eyes. "It’s tomorrow you idiot. We’re just stopping at a hotel to sleep. Duh." Then he turned around and walked away to go pester the other members of the band.

"Duh." Fieldy said in a high pitched imitation of David. "Oh look at me, I can play drums. I’m so fucking special. Duh." Jonathan gave a half smile at his friend but still felt like he wasn’t fully awake yet. His head buzzed like he had hang over but he hadn’t drunken anything and the Prozac usually didn’t give him this kind of a side effect.

"Hey, you okay?" Fieldy asked, noticing the spaced out look in Jonathan’s eyes.

"Huh? Oh yeah... Yeah. I’m fine. Little bastard scared me is all."

From the other side of the bus the two heard Munky’s tell tale scream and then the yell. "What the fuck do you think you’re doing, David?" The half smile on Jonathan’s face became a full toothy grin. He and Fieldy and Head were the three easy going guys... When it came to David at least. Munky wouldn’t let the drummer get away with that, however. Sure enough a few minutes later Munky came to their side of the bus with a very superior grin on his face. Following closely was a rather humbled looking David. Jonathan breathed a sigh of relief. It looked like David wouldn’t be pulling any more of that for a while.

"Anyone seen Head around?" The drummer asked with a demented grin on his face. Jonathan stood corrected.

"Here!" A muffled voice called out. The curtain to one of the bunks twitched and a very sleepy looking Head poked his... head out. "Why’d we stop?" He asked around a yawn.

"Hotel. Sleep." Munky explained.

The guitarist nodded and rolled out of his bunk. "Hey, I heard the roadies are going to have a end of tour party. Stan’s car is supposed to be filled with cases of beer. Anyone wanna go?"

"Beer? I’m there." Fieldy said quickly.

"Yeah."

"Sure."

"Naw."

Everyone turned around and stared at Jonathan with various degrees of surprise plastered on their faces. "W-what?" Munky asked, sounding shaken. Jonathan gave them an annoyed look. Usually he was right in line to go to any party even though he didn’t drink at them any more... But tonight he felt tired and disconnected. Like his mind and his body were in two different rooms altogether and really couldn’t hear each other that well. But he doubted that they would take that excuse. They would just nag at him until he agreed to go, so Jonathan’s little mind thought up a plausible excuse. "I gotta call Nathan tonight... I want to see how he is, you know.. Be a father." "Oh." The group readily accepted this. They knew how attached Jonathan was to his son... After all, it wasn’t every guy who would punch out Marilyn Manson because he insulted his boy.

"Come on. Let’s get OUT!" Head yelled, grabbing a duffel bag to carry in the hotel and lightly punched Jonathan on the shoulder. "Good luck with your kid."

Jonathan smiled back in response and absently rubbed his shoulder, wishing that calling his son were the real reason he wanted to stay in. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. What was making him so lazy all of a sudden? As he exited the bus Jonathan lightly coughed into his hand.

****

Ah sweet mattress! How he missed it! Softness... Unlike the brash stiffness of the bus bunk, enveloped him and made him sigh in relief. The sheer glory of being in a real bed was beyond description... It didn’t even matter to him that he knew the bed was probably covered with a ton of lice and God knows what stains (Yes, he had seen that one Dateline episode). All he cared about was shutting his eyes and letting the soft mattress around him take him into sweet nothingness.

But sleep didn’t come. After a few minutes Jonathan reluctantly opened on eye to see what was going on. Oh, the lamp was still on. Quickly switching it off he settled back into the bed with another contented sigh. An hour passed and still he wasn’t asleep yet. He was simply too tired to sleep.

"Fuck!" He cried, sitting up in bed and turning on the TV. Maybe a good home shopping thing was on that would put him right to sleep. Or better yet... A nice porno flick.... Unfortunately there wasn’t any porn or shopping networks to satisfy his urges and Jonathan was forced to watch the news instead.

"Our top story." The too perky reporter with the obviously fake boobs, said. "A new report out rates America’s educational systems as second to last on the world ranking. Under us is the newly established country of Joicohalla whose single school was destroyed recently in the country’s first civil war."

Click. The perky reporter disappeared from sight as Jonathan pressed the power button. He had forgotten how much news depressed him. "Maybe I should write a new song." He mused out loud. "A.D.I.D.A.S. two. All day I dream about sleep."

He could just count sheep or something stupid like that but Jonathan always hated when he counted too many sheep. The sheep that he collected in his mind always seemed to get together and plot against him and once he got into the hundreds of sheep he practically had a riot on his hands. Fortunately as Jonathan was thinking about how much he hated those turn coat sheep his mind decided it had enough and promptly turned itself off, allowing him to sink into blessed sleep.

****

"Honey, it’s time to go to school..." Said a sickly sweet voice.

"Huh? Mom?" Jonathan wondered sleepily. This brilliant comment was met by a burst of very masculine giggles. Either Jonathan’s step-mom just had a sex change or... "Munky!"

The guitarist just laughed again and shook his friend’s shoulder. "Get up man, the bus leaves in a half hour."

"Good thing you weren’t David again. I would have to kill you." Jonathan muttered, sitting up and realizing that his back was sore. He must have slept funny.

"Naw, we didn’t want to get waken up again so Fieldy, Head and I got David real drunk, tied him up and threw him in the closet. He won’t be bugging us."

Now it was Jonathan’s turn to laugh. "Fuck! I missed that?!" "Well... We let him out after a few hours. So how did your call go?"

"Huh?"

"You know... Your call to Nathan."

"Oh yeah!" He just then remembered the lie. "Fine."

Munky peered closer at Jonathan until the other man squirmed self consciously.

"Are you okay?"

"I’m fine!" Jonathan snapped, getting a little irritated. All he wanted to do was to get up and get dressed before the bus left, not play twenty questions.

"Just wondering. Better get dressed, Fag." He used the nickname he knew that the singer hated as a subtle message that he didn’t like getting snapped at. Then Munky turned around and left the room.

*****

"Wow. I can’t fucking believe it." Head said deeply as he and the other band members crowded into the greenroom. "Our last stop this tour."

"Didn’t think it would ever end!" Fieldy laughed, taking a sip from his beer then paused for a moment and almost sadly added, "Don’t want it to end."

"It never really ends." Jonathan said in a strangely happy tone. He didn’t really feel happy at that point... Last concerts of tours always kind of depressed him... Actually they depressed everyone even though no one would admit it. It was the fans that drew them, the fans that they played for. When they were away from their fans, away from the adrenaline rush that came from playing live, life felt somehow empty. Incomplete.

"Oh come on... There will be more tours." David said.

"Yeah, you think you might actually play next time?" Head teased.

"Maybe."

The door opened and some mysterious guy poked his head in. "Five minutes until showtime, guys."

The band immediately became tense and weary. Nervous glances and equally nervous laughs were exchanged between them as the seconds ticked away. Jonathan coughed into his hand and instantly all eyes were upon him. "What?"

"Getting sick?" David asked.

"No!" Jonathan stopped for a moment to cough again. "It’s just the fucking dust in this room. I’m," cough. "Fine." A band of nervous sweat broke out across his forehead... Was he getting sick? No... Impossible... And even if he was he could hold out for one stupid hour. Yeah, he would be fine. Yeah.

Again the mysterious guy poked his head in the room. "Time." The five instantly picked themselves out of their chairs and headed out to the stage. On their way they passed a whole multitude of tech people who wished them luck. They also filed by a small group of medics with an oxygen tank. In previous concerts Jonathan had to stop for a moment between songs and get some oxygen... Normally he would say hi to the guys on his way out but today the singer ignored them. This was their final concert and he wasn’t going to let himself get sick or stop to get treated.

This tour was going to go out with a bang. The audience roared when KoRn appeared on stage and the band members quickly went to their places and picked up their instruments and/or stood in front of the microphone. Jonathan began to speak, thanking the crowd for being there for them and so on... But even as he said his little speech he found his mind wondering off track, thinking about other things entirely... Like how much his back was starting to ache and how much the funny tickle in his throat was increasing.

Then the speech ended and as Jonathan looked out among the crowd something weird happened. The whole mass of people simply dimmed out of focus. Blinking his eyes he looked at the crowd once more and found that they had magically shifted back into focus again. A new band of sweet broke out all over his body as the whole arena seemed to heat up. Jonathan was suddenly boiling under the dark trench coat that he wore.

Stop it. He commanded himself. It’s just stage fright! Pull yourself together. Everyone is watching! So engrossed in his thoughts, Jonathan almost missed his intro to Dead. Quickly getting his wits back together he pushed everything aside and began to sing. "It seems funny to me .... how fucked things can be...."

By the end of the short song the urge to cough bubbled up again and he quickly pushed it down. He couldn’t let himself start coughing now... He might not be able to stop. It’s just an hour. He told himself grimly after the third song left him panting for air. He clutched at the microphone stand and stood with his head bowed for a moment or two, his dark hair running into his watering eyes. Just an hour. Just an hour. Just an hour...

The rest of the set flashed by in a kind of a blur to him. The end of the second to last song found Jonathan a former husk of what he used to be when he first started. His eyes were firmly shut. They had watered too much and he had just given up on trying to look though them a while ago. His body needed air, craved air and his lungs couldn’t seem to pull in enough to sustain him. He seemed hunched over the microphone as little muscle spasms raced up and down his back.

Three times now Head and Fieldy had asked him if he needed a break and each time he shook his head no. He was almost done... Almost done... Almost done.

Strangely enough the crowd didn’t appear notice Jonathan’s state. Instead they almost seemed electrified by the seemingly new dimension of depth that their favorite songs suddenly had. The already loud roar of the sheer mass of humanity suddenly in creased ten fold to become completely deafening.

Fieldy grinned at the crowd’s response and mouthed something to Munky who nodded and grinned back. This was truly a great ending to a great tour. They were on the final verse when Jonathan’s health finally broke. Dizziness and the urge to throw up hit him fast and hard. He lost his grip on the microphone and sank to his knees with a low moan. At first the other band members did nothing... They had grown used to Jonathan doing weird shit on the stage and simply went on with wrapping up the song. Only when the singer started coughing violently did Head throw down his guitar and went to his side. "Jon... Jon?!"

Jonathan opened his mouth to answer but another coughing spasm tore though his chest and it was all he could do not to cry out from the burning sensation left behind. Automatically his hand shot to his mouth to keep himself from coughing all over his friend. When the spasm stopped he realized that his hand felt wet.

Taking it away from his mouth he held it up and realized it was covered with sickly red blood... His blood... Head saw this too and turned around to yell at the backstage tech people and his fellow band members. "Get the medics! He needs help!"

Unfortunately he couldn’t be heard over the roar of the now surprised crowd. Head cursed and got up to tell Munky and Fieldy to help him get someone.

Jonathan couldn’t stop staring at his hand... It seemed coated with blood. He could feel the stuff dribbling out of his mouth too... Could feel it dribble down his chin... Could feel is splash around inside of his mouth, giving his tongue a salty bath... How had things gotten this bad? He only felt a little sick earlier... How could have things gotten this out of control? Was it the concerts? The constant touring with no rest at all? There had to have been signs before this... he must have just ignored them. Put them off. Now it was too late...

Things were getting very fuzzy to him now... He was vaguely aware of laying down on the stage as yet another coughing fit seemed to tear his chest apart with each new gasp. It was getting harder and harder to breathe as more and more blood came up... There were voices too... Very far away... "Fuck! His lips are blue!"

"Jon?! Can you hear us? Open your eyes."

"Where are the fucking doctors?"

He was drifting further and further way now... So this is what it felt like to die... He had always wondered... Strangely enough Jon only felt two regrets: That he would never see his son grow up and he would never be able so say good-bye to his band mates. The one’s who were clustered around him now. He didn’t have a happy life on his short time on earth, but he had a full life. And that was enough for him. That was enough.

***** The next thing h

e knew Jonathan was looking into a bright white light. And it hurt his eyes like a mo’fo. "Ow." He tried to say but a tube sticking out of his mouth inhibited his speech. A tube that felt like it was going right down his throat. Jonathan lifted up a hand to tug it out, but was stopped by some guy who suddenly walked right into his vision and smiled down at him.

"Finally awake Mr. Davis?"

No. He thought. I’m only pretending, asshole.

The guy smiled again and unplugged something before turning to Jonathan. "Doesn’t look like you need this anymore." He said, fingering the part of the tube, which was not currently shoved down Jonathan’s throat. "Take a deep breath and then exhale."

He did so and when he exhaled the guy firmly pulled the tube out, making him gag a little. Finally free of his apparatus, he turned his head and looked around... He was in some kind of a hospital. He wasn’t dead. That was a good thing.

"Are you feeling any pain, Mr. Davis?" The guy asked.

Jonathan looked closer and realized the guy was wearing a doctor’s smock. Nodding his head he realized that his throat was pretty sore. Probably from that stupid tube they put in there. "Throat." He croaked, realizing that his voice was all but gone.

The doctor nodded, "I’ll have a nurse bring in some ice chips."

"What..." Jonathan swallowed and tried again. "What... hap...hap.."

Luckily the doctor had a lot of experience talking to non-coherent patients. "You have tuberculosis. Fortunately it’s treatable."

"I... know."

"You know?" The doctor’s brow furrowed. "How?"

"Coroner." During his time as a coroner’s assistant he helped cut open one or two cadavers who had died of tuberculosis. Later in life he learned that in America at least, not many people died from it.

"That’s funny... I was under the impression that you were some sort of a rock star." The doctor said and then shrugged. "Well anyway, I have you on an anti biotic drip so don’t mess with your IV. I’ll be back with those ice chips."

By the time the doctor came back, however, Jonathan was already asleep.

*****
Three days later...
*****

"Hey!" Munky called as he and the rest of the band walked into Jonathan’s hospital room. It was the first day he had been moved out of ICU and this was the first time any of them had seen their friend since that awful night.

"Hey guys!" Jonathan said, glad that his voice had come back. For the first time in days he found himself smiling again. Being confined to a bed with only doctors and nurses for company depressed him... It was too much like being in some sort of insane asylum for his taste.

"You’re looking a hella lot better." Fieldy noted, plopping himself down on the bed with out even asking. "Not every day I see you ralph up your own blood."

That actually made him laugh. "I wasn’t actually throwing it up, you know." Then he noticed something strange on Fieldy’s arm... Almost like a red patch. "What’s that?"

David scowled. "They tested us for tuberculosis too and we all got it. You gave it too us." Another scowl. "But it’s inactive."

"Which means we get to take pills for the next six months." Head jumped in.

"Thank you soooo much, Jon."

"Hey, who says I even gave it too you?" Jonathan asked, in too good of a mood to feel angry. "I think it was David. He’s always rolling around in some shit or another." This comment was rewarded by a thrown pillow the drummer in question.

Munky rolled his eyes. "Anyway we got you something...." He pulled his hands out from behind his back and presented Jonathan with a wrapped square thing. "Have fun." This last comment was received by a few snickers from some of the guys around him.

Curious, Jonathan took the package and opened it. Instantly his face lit up. "Porn magazines! Ah, thanks guys."

"It’s the gift that keeps on giving." Head said deeply.

Abruptly the doctor came in and ordered everyone out, saying that the patient needed rest and not the company of hooligans like them. The band scoffed at that and made rude gestures when the doctor’s back was turned before saying good-bye and making their way out.

Jonathan sighed and put his porn magazines to the side of his bed, ignoring the doctor who was fiddling with his IV. Maybe he would look at the magazines later but right now he wasn’t in the mood. His gaze drifted from the erotic covers to something a little more plain: A telephone.

After the doctor was done doing what ever he was doing Jonathan was going to do something very important. Something he should have done days ago before he almost died. He was going to call Nathan. Be a father.