Crossover with George Orwell's 1984

The mask was removed from Winston Smith's face. Hecate brushed his cheek with salt water once, then twice. And then - no, it was not relief, only hope, a tiny fragment of hope. Too late, perhaps too late. But he had suddenly understood that in the whole world there was just one person to whom he could transfer the one on one - one body that he could thrust between himself and Hecate. And he was shouting frantically, over and over.

"Do it to Julia! Do it to Julia! Not me! Julia! I don't care what you do to her. Tear her face off, strip her to the bones. Not me! Julia! Not me!"

He was falling backwards, into enormous depths, away from Hecate. He was in the basement of the Old Lincoln School, but he had fallen through the floor, through the walls of the building, through the earth, through the oceans, through the atmosphere, into outer space, into the gulfs between the stars - always away, away, away from Hecate. He was light years distant, but Hecate was still standing at his side. There was still the cold touch of her hand against his cheek. But through the darkness that enveloped him he heard another metallic click, and knew that the door to her private room had clicked open.

"Does this mean you aren't going to find my ring?", Hecate finally asked. "Because that's doubleplusungood."