A/N: I've been having a really bad writer's block lately (at the time of writing this I still have it. This story has taken me three days to write, rather than the one day that it usually takes me), so I decided that I'll just write this. This is a short sequel to The Alleycat Ulan's Tintin fanfic, Wonder Boy. I felt that it needed another part, so here it is.
A Moment Too Soon
Tintin knew he was beat when he first heard the voice.
"You know, wonder boy," it said, mocking him to the bitter end, "I'd always picked you as the kind of person who'd go out with a bang."
Thanks for the terrible pun, he wanted to say, but didn't. A successful retaliation would involve a bit of a struggle, and the bullet in his lower leg wasn't helping. Just thinking about it made him cringe. Not to mention whatever had happened to his face while he was unconscious.
For a moment the sounds of footsteps was the only thing he noticed; they led away from him, disappearing with a blast of cold air from the outside. The sound of a car driving away faded into the distance. Then, silence.
Tintin risked a glance up. His surroundings were plain: a wooden cabin, with a small window looking over a string of mountains. Snow covered everything, from the winding mountain roads to the highest peaks.
Nowhere to run.
He could feel something happening inside of him, something that in all his adventures he'd never felt. It was almost as if his body was giving up, shutting down without another thought. He couldn't stand for that. He couldn't just sit here and die like this. He had to get down from here, get home to his friends. Even the car at the base of the mountain seemed familiar in a way. If he got down there in time, he could ask for a ride home…
Wait a second.
Tintin looked back out the window. The car didn't just seem familiar, it was familiar. Even though it was such a distance away, he could see the figures emerging from it, identifiable by one blue sweater and black hat, and two bowler hats and black coats. He could almost hear them calling his name, see the determination in their eyes,
Tintin tried shouting. He couldn't make a sound. He tried straining against the ropes holding him against the chair. But rather than finding any slack, the chair tipped forward, and he landed flat on his face, the wooden floor sending splinters into his cheeks. He ignored the pain. They're here, he thought instead. That's all that matters at the moment. I just need to let them know I'm here.
Fueled by adrenaline, he tried struggling once again, but this time his arms wouldn't move. The vague feeling of his body shutting down that he felt just moments ago was back, and more noticeable than ever. All of his pain seemed to dull in comparison. He suddenly felt weak, exhaustion replacing his adrenaline rush. He was just…stopping.
I refuse, he thought, trying without success to reason with himself. I won't let this get in my way. His swimming head made him rethink his threat.
"Tintin! Tintin! He has to be in there!"
He heard the voices just outside, the sound dulled by the wooden walls between them.
Captain! Thomson! Thompson! He wanted to call out to them, to tell them that he was all right, but even if he could speak, he couldn't say that truthfully. If only I could…The thought escaped him, his mind suddenly drawing a blank, and he slumped down and let the darkness take him.
-x-
By the time Captain Haddock and the Thompsons scaled the mountain and broke through the cabin door, they found the ginger reporter tied to a chair, facedown on the ground, unconscious.
Tintin was gone a moment too soon.
And they came a moment too late.
A/N: Rant all you want, Tintin fans around the world. I am not saying whether he died or not.