Title: Mind Games
Summary: "It's my game now, Flannery, and the rules are quite simple. If you survive, you win." It's a deadly game that Matt is forced to play- and Emily is right in the middle of it. ME, very dark and angsty.
Characters: Matt, Emily, the team, OCs
Warnings: Dark, very dark.
Rating: At the moment, PG-13/T. But I might have to move it up to R/M, if it requires it.
AN: Another Standoff fic from me. I seem to be currently obsessed with this show at the moment. Not sure whether that's a good thing or not... Anyways, this fic is me coming back to my angst and dark filled roots that I've been ignoring for the last year- and therefore is extremely angsty, and extremely dark. I don't even know if I can promise a happy ending... So, I do hope you read and enjoy and review, but seriously, if you can't handle dark fics, then stay away. This is also going to be strange- at least some of the chapters. So, yeah, be forewarned.
And since it's late now, and I think I've rambled enough- I hope that if you do read, you at least are somewhat intrigued and I would love to hear from you. Thanks you.
Chapter 1: Fear
It's his worst nightmare.
He doesn't even know if she's still alive.
She's lying on the floor, covered in blood, motionless. He doesn't even know if she's breathing- but he can't move. He's frozen in his own fear- unable to move, for the terror he will find if he does.
She can't be dead.
She can't be.
He won't let her.
He forces himself to take a step closer, to kneel down beside her, to touch her pulse.
He doesn't know what he'll do if she's dead.
It's his fault, after all.
Hesitant fingers reach out to lightly caress her flesh. It's cold, ice cold, but the silent beat is there- she lives.
She lives.
"Oh my God, Emily, no, no, stay with me, wake up, wake up, I didn't mean for this to happen to you, I should have listened, it's okay, please wake up..." He runs a hand across her neck, across her cheek, paying no heed to the words coming from his mouth. He's desperate for some recognition from her, some sign that she isn't hanging between life and death, as she seems to be.
She's so cold.
So lifeless.
He has no idea how long she has been like this, and how long she has left. Blood is smeared on her lips, and he traces them with a finger, feeling only the most shallow of breaths pass through them. He then lifts up his hand- and it's covered in blood.
The blood is recent, his mind puts together, she can't have been like this for long, there's still hope left.
Hope.
She can survive this.
She will survive this.
He won't let her die. Not like this. Not ever.
She looks so broken...
He closes his eyes, remembers the last time he saw her, before she was taken- before he let her be taken. He can't let her current state influence him, let him think that she's already dead, that there is no chance of revival.
"Come on, Emily," he pulls himself together, feels for her heartbeat once more. He can't make a mistake. He needs to be calm, collected. He can't let his emotions get in the way. He needs to survive, in order to save her. "Let's get you out of here."
He reaches down to cradle her to his body, to somehow move her out of there, to somehow get help...she can't stay here, in this cold, unforgiving place. She needs warmth and comfort and he can't leave her. Not now, not after this. He can't force himself to go away, even if it means getting help. She must come with him. He just prays that her condition won't worsen after her being moved.
But it's a chance he has to take.
Slowly, his arms grasped around her torso, he attempts to stand. It's not going to be easy, moving her-especially since he has to be extremely careful of her current state. But he'll manage it- he has to.
It's fault she's on the brink of death.
And then he hears a sound that will haunt his memories.
Click.
Suddenly cold metal is pressed up against his ear- and he freezes.
"Congratulations, Special Agent Flannery, you've made it this far. Now comes the next part of your little challenge."
Another click, and he instantly knows that it's a pistol that's currently being trained at his head.
He swallows.
"And what would that be?" He fights to keep his voice steady. He has to remain calm. He can't risk getting her hurt even worse. There has to be something he can do...
But the answer sends a chill down his spine, and he realizes there's very little hope left.
"Death."