Eric Cartman Must Die

Okay, this is it – the last chapter, hope you enjoy it.

Oh, I forgot the disclaimer in the last chapter, so before I get into trouble: I don't own South Park – Matt'n'Trey do.

Chapter 7 – Revenge and Redemption

He could hear voices. He could hear them clearly, but he didn't know what they were saying, or who they belonged to. They were talking in hushed tones, but he could still hear them. He strained, trying to understand them. Then, a word poked through his subconscious, like a pinprick of light in the dark.

Cartman.

Cartman? Cartman. Wait, I'm Cartman! That's me!

He tried to speak, to let them know he was there, but nothing came out. He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids merely fluttered, then shut again. He gave a howl of frustration that came out as a hoarse gurgle. The voices stopped. Cartman gurgled again.

All hell seemed to break loose. The voices started again, only more excited this time. Someone shouted something. Then a woman spoke to him in soothing tones, and removed something from his mouth. Feeling began to return to various parts of his body. His eyes flickered again, and then opened. He stared blearily as everything blurred into one, and everyone began talking incessantly again. A familiar voice penetrated the haze.

"Finally, he's awake. Can we go now?"

"Screw you, Jew," Cartman rasped.

"My baby, my sweet baby came back!" Liane Cartman cried, and fell on top of her son, sobbing uncontrollably. A nurse dragged her off with difficulty.

"Well, Eric, you're a very lucky young man," the doctor said, as he entered the room. "If it weren't for your friends' quick thinking, you'd be dead."

Cartman just smiled. What did doctors know anyway? "How did you find me?" he whispered.

"Through Butters, actually," Stan said. "We ran into him – almost literally – out on the highway. He was a wreck, but he managed to tell us what had happened. He led us up there. You were in a bad way when we found you. I called your name and I think you called me Jesus." He smiled wanly. "You stopped breathing and we couldn't find a pulse, so I gave you a blast with Uncle Jimbo's taser. I had to do it a couple of times, but it worked. We got you back. Then we stemmed the blood flow as best we could until the paramedics arrived."

"Thanks to me," Kenny said. He was leaning against the doorframe. "I called them from further back."

"Where's Butters?" Cartman asked hoarsely.

"The police have him. That lunatic won't get you now, sweetie." Liane smiled through her tears. "Oh, it's so good to have you back. You'd been asleep so long; I didn't think you were going to wake up."

"How long?" Cartman enquired.

"3 days."

"3 days?" He stared at her in amazement. Surely there was no way he'd been in Limbo for 3 days?

"Okay, time to go, everybody," the doctor said. "Eric needs to rest. He's had enough excitement for one day."

The boys filed out first, each saying a quick goodbye. Stan paused in the doorway.

"You owe us big for this one," he said seriously. Then his face broke into a grin. "Let's call it a pizza at Shakey's."

"Asshole."

Stan waved and left. Liane promised Cartman she'd bring in all his favourite treats the next day to help build his strength up. Then, after about two dozen kisses and an interminably long hug, she left, too. Cartman lay awake for a while after everyone had gone, staring at the ceiling and listening to all the comings and goings outside his room. Stan and Kyle were probably out there now, telling everyone what heroes they were. He smiled. Let them have their little moment. Even though his memories of Limbo were hazy now, he knew exactly why he had come back. He remembered clearly the one thought that carried him back to life.

Revenge.

*

Several weeks later…

Cartman stepped out of the bus, and then stretched as much as his bandages would allow. The journey had been long and cramped, but finally he was here. He gazed up at the modern looking building in front of him: Silverwood Psychiatric Hospital. The best of its kind in Cali, the website trumpeted. The only one of its kind in Cali, Cartman thought. He smiled ruefully. His mom would have a fit if she knew he was here.

He headed inside, feeling nervous. He had no idea how this was going to go down, or if it was even going to work, but he had to try. He'd spent weeks in hospital planning for this day. He couldn't turn back now.

He smiled at the woman behind the front desk and fed her the cover story he'd been practicing on the ride over. She checked her computer, smiled back, and handed him a visitor's pass. She got up and beckoned him to follow her. They walked to a lift and got in.

"You know, we don't normally allow visitors in at this stage of a patient's treatment," she said as they went up. "But the doctor thought it might do him good to see a friend. And you sounded so nice on the phone, Kyle."

Cartman smiled at her. Stupid, gullible bitch. He looked nice too, he knew. He'd bought a brand new suit for the occasion, just the sort of gayass thing Kyle would wear. His hair was slicked back in a neat weave, rather than his usual Shockwaves look.

They left the lift at the third floor and walked along a corridor. It was light and airy, and there were even a few potted ferns along the way. A few doctors and nurses passed them, obviously on their rounds, and a couple of security guards sat at a station nearby, drinking coffee. Cartman had suspected there would be guards. This was a nuthouse, after all.

They stopped outside a door near the guards station. On the door was the patient number (32b), and a clear plastic folder taped to the door with sheets of paper inside. There were all sorts of long words that Cartman didn't understand on the top sheet, along with two words stamped in big, red letters: HIGH RISK.

"He is restrained," the receptionist said, noticing Cartman reading the sheet, "but there is a panic button on the wall if you need it."

Cartman could hear patient 32b singing a song to himself: "Loo loo loo, I'll have some apples, loo loo loo, you have some too…"

"Thanks, I'll take it from here," Cartman said to the receptionist. She nodded and left.

He put his hand on the knob and eased the heavy door open gently. He stepped inside and gazed at the boy sitting cross-legged on the bed, singing to himself and doing a jigsaw. He was restrained, as the receptionist had said, by a couple of leather bonds around his wrists that were connected to the wall. He looked up, smiling, as the door clicked shut, then his mouth fell open in alarm.

"Hello, Butters."

Butters leapt off the bed, scattering his jigsaw, and tried to run for the panic button, but his restraints pinged and pulled him back against the bed. Cartman moved quickly across the room and hauled him up. He pushed the struggling Butters down onto the bed with one hand, and produced a switchblade from his pocket with the other. He put the blade to Butters' throat.

"Listen to me," he hissed menacingly. "In a second, I'm going to let you go. And when I do, you're not going to scream or do anything to attract the guards' attention. Try anything, and I'll do you right now, got it?"

Butters nodded with difficulty.

"Good." Cartman released him and he sat up shaking, and hugged his knees. "You know why I'm here, don't you, B? You and me have got some unfinished business."

"I'm real sorry, Eric," Butters babbled. "I tried to stop him but he got too strong and he took control and he hurt me because I wouldn't hurt you because…" his voice trailed off. The unspoken words hung in the air between them.

"Oh yeah, Chaos," Cartman said grimly. "Is he in there? I wanna talk to that asshole."

"Well, yeah, but I'm trying to learn to block him out," Butters said. "It's all part of my re-ha-bi-li-ta-tion." Butters had always had trouble with words of more than two syllables.

"Doesn't matter anyway," Cartman said casually. He advanced on Butters again. "I only came here for one reason."

"No, Eric, please don't do this," Butters whimpered as Cartman pushed him down onto the bed again and brandished the switchblade. Cartman leant down over him, his stomach pushing heavily into Butters' chest.

"Bet you like this, dontcha, bitch," he whispered, his breath hot on Butters' cheek. He pressed the blade against the boy's abdomen. Butters' body suddenly seemed to relax beneath his.

"Believe me, Eric, you don't want to do this," he said, calmly and quietly. "You'll be paying for it for the rest of your life."

Cartman pulled away slightly. He watched Butters carefully. "Professor Chaos?"

"Nah, still me," Butters replied. "I think the Vicodin's kicking in." He sat up a little, being careful to avoid the blade. "I know what its like to hate someone so much you wish they were dead, but it's not worth it. Really, its not. Hate twists you and turns you into something you're not. Hate destroyed me. Don't let it destroy you too." He gazed up at Cartman. There was indecision behind his dark eyes. Butters took a deep breath and put his hand on Cartman's. "I'm not worth throwing your life away over." He gently pushed Cartman's hand, and the blade, away.

Cartman stood still for a moment, unsure about what had just happened. He felt the anger that he had nurtured inside him for weeks begin to drain away. He sank down into a beanbag seat beside the bed. His chest began to throb angrily, reminding him he hadn't had his painkillers.

"Damn, that's some good Vicodin," he said slowly.

"Yeah," Butters said. He stared off into chemically enhanced space.

Cartman took in Butters' room for the first time. Lots of blues and greens. Gay, hippie earth colours that were probably supposed to be calming. He breathed deeply and tried not to contemplate how close he'd come to actually murdering someone.

"Thanks for not pressing charges," Butters said suddenly.

"It was all part of the plan, B."

"Huh?"

"I wanted to dispense my own brand of justice. I knew I couldn't get to you if you were inside." Cartman grinned. "You should've seen me: 'Don't put him away, he needs help, not prison'. Those detectives were such assholes."

"Juvie wouldn't have me anyway. Too crazy for juvie." Butters giggled. "And they've got Trent Boyette."

The two boys fell silent for a while. The tension between them had all but evaporated.

"How long have you been a fag?" Cartman asked matter-of-factly.

"Well, all my life, I guess," Butters said. "But officially, two years."

"How'd you find out?"

"Do you remember the last time we went to Raisins, all of us together? No? Well, it was to celebrate Tweek finally going through puberty. We had a super fun time that day." Butters smiled at the memory. "Nothing happened there, it was afterwards, when I was at home, in bed. I was dreaming about the Raisins girls dancing for us, and then suddenly they changed into boys! There was Craig, and Clyde and – "he paused, glancing at Cartman, "other people. All dressed up like Raisins girls and dancing for me. I woke up and found…things had happened. With my penis. That's when I realised I was gay."

"You're a sicko, dude."

Cartman stayed with Butters for another hour, and then announced he had to go, or he'd miss his bus home. Butters looked disappointed.

"Come see me again soon?"

"Maybe."

Cartman stood up. "It was true, what I told you in the wood," he said. "I don't hate you, B. I never did." He started towards the door, then turned around as though he'd forgotten something. "Can you give Professor Chaos a message from me?"

"Sure. What is it?"

Cartman walked back to the bed and punched him hard on the nose. Butters pinched it, trying to stem the blood.

"I'll make sure he gets it."

*

That night, Butters lay in the dark, listening to the silence. It wasn't just silent outside, but inside his head, too. Professor Chaos' constant chatter and threats had stopped. He lay still, savouring it. He finally felt at peace with the world, and himself. The visit from Cartman had a lot to do with that, he knew. It seemed to have helped Cartman as well. Maybe they had both found…what was the word? Closure.

He closed his eyes and turned over as far as his restraints would allow. He sighed happily.

Alone at last.

Well, that's it, the end of the story. As always, thanks for reading!

The ending is a bit sappy, I know, but I couldn't have Cartman killing Butters. It didn't feel right. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the story, and if you could review it, that would be great.

Ta-ra for now!