TLJ 3: Don't Let's Tarry To Thine Own Death.
Tommy Lee Jones' Grandmother slides in and out of his memory as he treads water. His scissor kicks lift his head ever closer to the ceiling. He sees his Grandmother in Britain. She is outside of a cafe, sipping lukewarm tea with a laptop blaring a familiar overture. She says: Don't let's tarry, now, Thomas. He replies: What? She says: To thine own death be true young man. I expect to see you with promptness. The clarity and sting of death are for those with malice. Yours is swollen and beautful heart. Don't let's be too late now, young man.
His head grazes the celing. The life of the room revolves around the top of an empty bookshelf where Tommy Lee Jones imagines his movies filling the shelves. What titles would he regret? Which would he be proudest of? What is Ashley Judd doing right now? What will she wear to his funeral?
He imagines his funeral procession. This is the first time he has allowed himself to consider death as the only option. He imagines a strong wooden box filled with sand. He imagines his mother, her hazel eyes filled with tears, awaiting the news that he is not home; not rescued or escaped from the clutches of captors undefined. He ingests a bit of water and coughs violently.
Tommy Lee Jones was sitting quietly when they attacked and kidnapped him. He never saw his captors. He saw the spraypaint on the warship before passing back out. Or did he? It doesn't matter now. Immersed in water, he is quiet again. His eyes, watching warily as his life refuses to flash before them, dart around. Then they rest. He answers his Grandmother's call. I'll not tarry, Grandmother. I'll join you, so long as I lived, I've missed your touching words and warm embrace. I'll be there soon. Soon, Mammy, soon.
He slips into that warm embrace. The water's weight is more palpable, as though he, or it, is sinking. Arms around him hold tightly, a grip he does not remember his Grandmother having.