Twelve Minutes to Midnight, October 2009
Rating: PG
Summary: Drabble - Sam's next leap is 'as usual' an extreme one...
Disclaimer: I own nothing, I profit from nothing.
Warnings: Brief violence
AN: I love and miss Sam Beckett. A crossover_las entry that had a backside story where Jack attacked Al
Al was tapping away on the interface to Ziggy smiling around his cigar. Mrs McLoed had been exonerated and was hugging her family. Sam, in the body of lead ADA Jack McCoy smiled and gave himself a mental backslap of well done. And sure enough as expected the scene faded out in a flash of blue white energy as Sam jumped to the next soul in need, the next life to help.
He'd had some pretty intense leaps over the years, leaping into people in the middle of the worst moments of their life. War. Crime. Riots. Jumping out of planes. You name it, he'd probably done it. As Sam coalesced into the next life, the next year, reality flooded in as the white light disappeared and he came to with the very distinct sensation of someone shoving a gun into his mouth.
Neurons firing at full speed, Swiss cheese effect be damned, Sam blinked furiously as his surroundings cleared. He was on his knees, hands cuffed behind his back, the sharp pain of a bullet wound in his shoulder, heart racing, chest heaving with pain and adrenalin. Still blinking, sweat dripping into his eyes, Sam Beckett could only stare up at the man pushing the barrel of his gun further into his mouth. Gagging and trying to just frigging think through the pain and panic, Sam groaned.
"He cannot answer you like that, Georgi." The voice was off to his left, unseen, heavily accented. Russian? Ukranian? Georgian? Georgi snarled, his smooth bald head covered in scars and ripped the gun out, and slammed it into Sam's head.
Stars and bursts of white light were the least of his worries, as Georgi grabbed him by the hair, yanking his head back, gun now pressed under his chin. "Where are the detonators, Agent Bauer? Where?" The questions were accompanied by a brain rattling shake, the gun cutting off Sam's air, pressed deep into the skin.
Gulping, trying to breath, Sam scanned his immediate memories but as usual, nothing was available. Where was Al? If there was ever a time for Al to get his holographic ass here pronto, this was it.
"The detonators, Agent Bauer!" Another crack across the face with the gun, another groan and Sam truthfully moaned, "I don't know."
The sound of a round being chambered, a gun prepped for use, echoed through his aching head and the small room, and the sensation of a smooth, metal barrel being pressed into his temple, hard, brought everything into startling clarity. "No more games, Bauer. Where are the detonators?"
All Sam could think was, "Shit. I am totally screwed."