Author's Note: A relatively short one, this time. I really loved Blacklist since it was the best Splinter Cell (in my opinion) since Chaos Theory. This idea had been bouncing around in my head for a while, but I had honestly forgotten about it until a couple of weeks ago for some reason. In any case, it's just my take on what would have happened at the end of the "Abandoned Mill" mission, after Sam has planted the bug on the nerve gas. There are a lot of similarities to the game, but I promise it is quite different overall. As always, I hope you enjoy! :)

Chapter One

Sam headed up the ladder. He was so close. He just had to take Sadiq out and it would all be over. But with every ascending step, his limbs grew heavier. His focus wandered. Grim's voice drew him back to reality.

"Sam, your vitals are all over the place. I don't like this. You need to get out of there."

Fighting back a grimace, Sam stuttered out, "I'm fine."

Finally reaching the top of a ladder that had seemed a lot shorter when he had started climbing, Sam hoisted himself over the edge less gracefully than he would have liked and landed in a heap on the floor. Though blurred, it was apparent that a lab was situated just ahead of Sam's position, given away by its white, plastic tents and occupants wearing outfits to match. His health deteriorating, it took Sam a few attempts just to stand up. The world swam around him as though he were caught in the middle of a shimmering mirage.

Sam headed towards the lab, now in a full-on daze. He stumbled onward, unaware of the people around him, and uncaring as to whether they saw him. He simply couldn't form a coherent thought. All he could do was blindly move forward in an effort to complete his one objective, the only thing left for his failing mind to grasp—to kill Sadiq. From far away, he heard a voice. It was somehow familiar though he couldn't identify its owner.

"Your O2 Sat is plummeting. Sam, get out of there now!"

Some ingrained convention dictated a response, but being reduced to a primordial being, Sam couldn't form any intelligible words, instead just mumbling a few syllables.

He had made it halfway through the lab, quickly being surrounded by confused technicians sounding the alarm. The lights around him blurred together with the faces popping in and out of his view. His footsteps faltered as his legs gave out beneath him, leaving him lying on his back. The moment he hit the ground, the voice called to him again in its seemingly endless effort to keep him awake when all his body wanted to do was fade away.

"Sam? Sam, do you copy? Sam?! Briggs, move in on Sam's position. Now!"

But Sam's body had won the battle, drawing him downward into darkness as masked faces closed in on him, arms outstretched.

Sam was jolted awake by the butt of a pistol colliding with his face. He groaned at the shock of it. By some miracle, his mind had returned, though his senses were still fuzzy. Whether it was the adrenaline surge caused by the blow or just some strange circumstance that allowed him the luxury of thought once more, Sam didn't know. He was simply thankful for it.

Unfortunately, there was nothing comforting about the situation Sam found himself in. He was seated in a folding chair, hands tied behind his back. On any other day, the restraint would have been insulting. Having his hands tied was child's play by Splinter Cell standards. But Sam was still in bad shape from the nerve gas exposure. He could feel himself breaking out in a cold sweat, his hands and feet growing clammy. Breathing became more and more difficult. There was nothing he could do about his situation and he knew it. Not in the condition he was in. However, though his mind had been addled before he passed out, it had still registered Grim's last words. Sam knew help was coming. He only had to last long enough for it to arrive.

A pair of fingers snapped in front of Sam's face. It had taken Sam mere seconds to assess the situation, but it appeared that the man holding the gun had no time to waste. The fingers placed themselves under Sam's chin and forced him to look into the eyes of their master. It was Sadiq.

There were other men in the room as well, stationed at the doors. They were all heavily armed and armored. This was in stark contrast to Sadiq, who held but a pistol and whose leather jacket was his most protective layer of clothing.

"You're not looking too good, are you?" The words were laced with an English accent and a mock concern. "It seems you've sampled my product. I'm impressed. I doubt there are many people who would still be conscious at this point."

Despite his best efforts, Sam couldn't force his eyes to focus in on Sadiq's face. His pupils were dilating and contracting beyond his control, making the lights situated behind the man brighten and dull in rapid succession. Sadiq continued with his monologue, circling Sam, oblivious to his discomfort.

"I knew someone was following me. And here I find you, delivering yourself to my front doorstep. Did you think you could just sneak in here and dismantle my entire operation in one fell swoop? How naïve. You're not the first person to try to stop me and you certainly won't be the last. Normally, I would just kill men like you, but I admit to being intrigued. You see, I've searched every database known to man and you show up on none of them." Sadiq came to a halt directly in front of Sam, leaning over so that their faces were mere inches apart. "You don't exist. You are a ghost. And so I ask you this question. Who are you?"

Although it was a question, Sam saw it for what it truly was, a threat. This was an interrogation, plain and simple. And there was no such thing as a cordial interrogation. And so Sam responded in kind, glaring into Sadiq's eyes. "I'm the man who's going to kill you." He put as much validity into the words as possible, but Sam's voice still hitched as though he were in pain.

A second later, Sadiq slammed a knife into Sam's leg. Sam cringed, but swallowed his cry, spit flying from between clenched teeth as he fought to control the pain. The knife was expertly placed, hitting nothing vital so as to prolong the torture. It was not Sadiq's first time using such a technique.

"Amusing, but pointless." Sadiq stepped back a pace, laughing at Sam's audacity. "An interesting knife, that," Sadiq mused, pointing at the knife still lodged in Sam's leg. "A karambit. Very interesting. Not standard issue, even for a black ops agent. Yes, I may not know your name, but that doesn't mean I don't know who you are. You are American, that is clear enough. With specialized, black ops training. No doubt top of your class. And highly experienced judging by your age. I should be flattered that the Americans sent such a man after me. And more than one too."

At those words, Sam's eyes found their way back to Sadiq. The motion didn't go unnoticed by Sadiq who flashed a winning smile before rounding on Sam. Sam berated himself for giving such an obvious affirmation. Maybe his mind wasn't as clear as he had thought. In any case, he should have realized that Sadiq had found his earpiece since he was no longer wearing it. And an earpiece could only mean one thing.

"I know you have a team and you're going to tell me where they are."

Angry at himself for falling for such a novice tactic, Sam let his fire fuel his retort. "Go to hell."

Sadiq struck like lightning, seizing the karambit and twisting it mercilessly in Sam's thigh. The curved blade only added to the agony. Sam cried out, unable to control himself this time.

"Where is your team?!" Sadiq roared.

The knife twisted still further. Sam knew his body couldn't take much more. It was failing. Not from the interrogation, but from the delayed effects of the nerve gas. He had been hiding it as well as he could from Sadiq, but his fortitude was giving out. And the blood loss only served to send him over the edge.

Nonetheless, Sadiq had shown his hand. When he dropped his composed demeanor, he had betrayed the real subject of the interrogation. He didn't care who Sam was. Despite his show of bravado, Sadiq was worried about who was still out there.

With Sam's head sagging forward, Sadiq would have missed Sam's answer were it not for the fact that their faces were so close. The answer was not in the form of a verbal reply, but a smile. Sam gave a half-hearted smirk with what remained of his strength and its effect was more powerful than anything he could have said.

Sadiq's surety faded in an instant and was replaced with doubt. Squinting in confusion, he anxiously turned to each entrance to the room in turn, searching for some unseen threat. Finding none, he turned back to Sam only to pause a moment before looking to the window.

It was then that Briggs came crashing through the glass, his weapon already firing.