Prologue
The bullet, he thinks, was probably never really intended to hit him in the first place. However, it had done an excellent job of doing just that, piercing his back just about level with his navel, and slightly to the left. Oddly, it had caused no pain as it ripped cleanly through his stomach- unlike his harsh, persistent coughs, which tore at his throat and his chest and some other place deep inside him that he couldn't even name, all the bullet did as it emerged from the pale unresisting skin at the front of his body and drove into the casing of the machine in front of him was to cause a strange coldness to spread out from his stomach and through his limbs, along with a sickening red wetness.
His vision drained away in uneven patches and the floor swam blearily upwards to meet him. It was warm, heated by the flames of the rocket, and he felt strangely comfortable as he lay there, lazily watching the product of all his years of work disappear through the blinding portal while light disappeared from his sight. Eventually sound faded too, and he was floating dreamily in a dark dense sea, almost- but not quite- unaware of the chaos around him.
He is uncertain now, but he almost thinks that he felt two warm arms holding him tightly, and a quiet voice sobbing dryly into his ear as he lay there. If he did, it didn't bother him much. He lay still and calm, feeling pleasantly sleepy and vacant.
Later, he would wonder whether, just for a second, he died while he was lying there.
He felt a touch, this time on his shoulder, and he lost contact with the floor once again. Confused, he moved, although it was almost too much effort, and opened his eyes a fraction.
He caught sight of a young astonished face with wide eyes and slack jaw and brimming tears-
- before it was snatched away from view, to be replaced with a blindingly white light punctuated with writhing black tentacles.
He opened his eyes, and he was in a cool white room that beeped at regular intervals, with bandages binding him together so tightly that he could barely breathe. Opening his eyes he saw that the room was large and filled with white starched beds- like the one he was lying in, he realized- all of which were empty. There were white curtains hanging from railings that dissected the room into eight neat squares, but the curtains were drawn and hung in perfect concertina folds. There was a small square cabinet beside him, with a glass of water and a small bouquet of flowers on it. And there was a clear plastic tube extending down from somewhere above his head, eventually becoming a needle, which was lodged deeply beneath the skin of his forearm, and which hurt him when he moved his fingers.
The light was sharp and intense, and he had to close his eyes after a short time. It didn't matter. He had already seen all that he needed to- all that was necessary to show him that indeed, he was alive and in surprisingly good health considering the circumstances, and, it appeared, in a hospital.
He felt better able to sleep, now that he knew that much.
Author's notes: Ok. This story was commissioned by Don't Make Me Blue, who came up with a very interesting idea requiring a lot more thought and experimentation than most of my fics. As such, this story will be a long one. As of yet, I have no idea how long it will end up being, but suffice to say there will be a number of chapters to come. I know it's kind of evil for me to put up the prologue (which seems like more of a teaser to me) directly before leaving on holiday, but that's how life works sometimes. It will be between one and two weeks until the next chapter is up.
I hope you like it so far! It's a very interesting concept to work with, and to be honest it's well out of my comfort zone, but I've tried hard with it.