A/N: I have absolutely no idea where this came from, I woke up this morning and there it was. Not destined to be a long story, just a few chapters.
Disclaimer: The characters, with the exception of those not in the original line-up, don't belong to me they remain the property of Paxson Entertainment and Pebblehut. I'm just having a bit of fun with them.
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Into The Light
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He was in a strange place, neither hot nor cold and completely devoid of colour. He'd had strange dreams before but nothing compared to this. The ground was white, he assumed with snow… The sky was white, cloudy he guessed. The walls, if there were any… In fact everything was white, leaving him with no way to tell where one part ended and the other began.
He seemed to be separate from his body, as though his mind had taken on a life of its own and was trying to break free to soar into… who knew where. It wasn't frightening or exciting, it just was… and he felt an overwhelming desire to give in and let it take him where it would. He tried but something was holding him back, anchoring him in this strange world; a gentle female voice was begging him not to leave. It was a whisper, an echo, as though it was coming from a long way away and he wondered why she wouldn't let him go but he had no voice to ask.
Flashes of colour began to appear, dazzling him… Blues and reds, then after a while they turned into vivid white squares. He was looking up at them, their regularity hypnotic; their brightness hurting his eyes and forcing him to close them. He started to drift again and the warm hand gripped his even tighter, he assumed it belonged to the disembodied voice. He wanted her to let him go but there was something else… An almost ethereal shadow cloaked in white ordering him to hold on; the urgency in the tone telling him this wasn't right and he felt panic welling up inside him as he tried desperately to wake himself up without success. He was tired, too tired to fight, so instead he made a supreme effort to focus on his surroundings and pull images out of the stark whiteness that was beginning to swallow him again.
He was lying on his back, he assumed in bed, but his mattress was hard and unyielding and seemed to be moving, the sensation making him feel sick. The anchor that only moments ago he'd wanted to shed, had relinquished its hold and he'd started to float and now he wanted it back... the sudden feeling of being lost and alone, terrifying him. There were figures coming out of the walls, beckoning him to join them and he felt powerless to resist their silent call.
As they drew closer, he realised he knew them... His grandmother; his favourite Uncle from childhood; a friend from university and Kristen as she was before she'd fallen victim to cocaine… All people that he'd lost years ago. They wanted him to go with them and where would be the harm? They were friends and relatives and they would protect him, help him. He took a couple of tentative steps towards them and then stopped. The warm hand was back in his, holding on tightly, the touch only lasting a few moments but enough to make him hesitate and the ghosts from his past disappeared back the way they'd come.
He was alone, adrift in a sea of whiteness with no idea which way to turn…
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