He was lying in a snow bank, staring up at the sky, and he was freezing but he didn't care. It wasn't going to storm anymore, the sky told him, even though it was gray and dark and looked more than ready to. There would be no more snow falling on him, trying to bury him alive while he made no effort to stop it. His lips were turning blue, he could feel it, and his teeth were chattering and he couldn't feel his fingers and toes. Why the hell was he in a snow bank again?

If his brain would work he could remember how he had ended up buried in the snow, he was sure, but his brain wasn't working like he was sure it was supposed to. He remembered running for what seemed like hours and then...nothing. Nothing until the sky was looming above him, gray cloud shapes drifting above him like a movie, and realizing that he was buried nearly completely in snow. Everything before the running was blurry too, he wasn't quite clear on why he had been running at all. It had smelled like blood and death and frightened him, he realized, and so he had run as far and as fast as he could and then, apparently, collapsed in the snow.

He raised one hand, disturbing the snow lying like a pristine white sheet atop him, and looked at it. There was dried blood under his nails, it looked like dirt now though. His blood? No, not his, someone else's...Maria? He couldn't put a face to the name, it had simply jumped to the front of his mind and it was drifting away again even as he tried to grasp onto it, think about it, remember who the name belonged to. Only a shadow of guilt came to him as he thought of the name, as though something had happened long ago. But the blood on his hands was only from a few hours ago. And he had no idea how he knew that, either, because he didn't know how the blood had gotten there.

His lack of memories was getting more and more frustrating as he tried to search farther back and still came up blank. It seemed as though things were fading away even as he looked fo them, slipping through his desperate fingers like the melting snow in his fist. Letting out a scream of frustration he slammed his fist down in the snow, it sunk three feet before it hit something solid and even that wasn't the ground, it was just ice.

Something cracked loudly off to his left and he bit his tongue to hold back another scream, freezing in place, only his eyes moving. He couldn't see anyone, only glittering white snow in ever direction around him until pine trees closed in twenty feet away in nearly every direction. Nothing moved after that, and nothing made a single sound, which he found odd. Forests were supposed to be full of happy little animals (and not so happy little animals getting eaten) and noise in general, and it was completely silent. Then again he was a city boy, how would he know?...wait, he was? Where the knowledge had come from he had no idea, once again, and he couldn't find an answer in his disturbingly blank mind.

There was the crunch of snow under something heavy just behind him, and then a warm hand closed over his face, muffling his weak cries of protest. Grey eyes met cold brown ones for a moment before something pinched the side of ihs neck and the world spiraled to black unnervingly quickly. His attacker, if it could even be called that, dragged the now unconscious teen out of the snow easily and threw him over broad shoulders. I've got him, Chuck.

Good. Make sure he remains unconscious.

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He drifted in and out of troubled sleep, never becoming quite aware enough of his surroundings to hazard a guess at what was going on. Once he thought he could hear jet engines, though that didn't make any sense, hadn't he been in the snow? He certainly wasn't anymore, unless snow had suddenly become warm and comfortable or he was just that out of it.

The seat was soft, he noted another time he awoke. It smelled like sweat and metal and a little bit of blood, a different time.

None of it pieced together in his sleep addled brain however, vague confusion ruling his thoughts and dreams.

The one time he truly did wake he saw the same eyes he had before, this time accompanied by a rough face with five o'clock shadow. He tried to protest, to get away, but his limbs didn't seem to be functioning properly. "Sorry, kid." The man grunted just as there was another pinch in the side of his neck. The last thing he saw was the man's back and cloudless blue sky out of what looked like a windshield beyond. Except it definitely wasn't a car, not that he could tell with his brain shutting down as quickly as it was.

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Mmkay, that's random. I promise there is a plan...of sorts. Review whether you liked it or not!