Buried Alive
Summary: There are worse ways to die, there are better ways to die but there are worse ways to die. For the life of me I can't think of anything worth dying in this hell. Benji's POV. Character death? One shot.
A/N: Most of this was written in the middle of the night as I deal with a cold, stupid British weather changing every five seconds, and recovering from an operation while also putting of writing an essay for Photography and Film, so any errors are completely my fault. I also have dyslexia so please criticism is appreciated but please not too hard. I've already been trolled on another story and I was bumped for weeks after (repeatedly reading it didn't help).
This is also an experimental piece. I've only written first person a few times in the past, one I've posted and the other too rubbish to think about, and wanted to see if I'm getting any better at it. Please let me know how I did.
Disclaimer: I don't own Mission Impossible I just mess the characters up a little and promise to put them back in the toy box for others.
Benji open your eyes and don't close them again. Keep them open or you'll die. The others will be here in a while and you'll get help but if you close your eyes who's to know what could happen.
How long have I been in here? Long enough to start talking to myself in the third person I guess. By ruff estimation I'd say it's been about thirty-forty minutes awake, which leaves only a few more minutes left of air, I don't know how long I was trapped before I awoke.
My leg has started bleeding again but for some reason this stupid box has become comfortable enough for me not to notice all the pain. It's unsettling to think that someone has to test this thing out and put so much effort into the craftsmanship before there used.
Breathe Benji, breathings good breathing means life, but it's starting to get so hard to take a breath in without my head spinning in three-hundred and sixty circles. That could be from the low amounts of oxygen in the air.
How did I get here? I've asked that question over and over and each time my memory stops at the exact moment anything useful happens.
I was working on the computer in the back of the van while Jane and Ethan worked the floor and Brandt was to retrieve the information for the mission. I was directing Brandt on how to get out of the maze of corridors he had found himself in, 'Go left, the other left,' I laughed when Brandt took the wrong left. I could see him hiding annoyance on the screen in front of me. I still ask Ethan if he'd let me record these, to have a record of that would be priceless.
Brandt made a joke about not knowing his lefts and rights and I had laughed. I was just saying my own retort to his words, 'Don't they teach you that at…', when a sharp pain erupted in my head.
I was blind for a while the only thing I was aware of was that I was being dragged backwards as the others yelled in my ear. I came to my senses when the cold December air hit my skin. I looked around and saw two people, one above me with his hands pulling at my skin the other just stepping out of the van. When I was dropped on the floor in front of another car I kicked out at the nearest one, I think I hit him in the stomach, and he fell to the floor near me groaning in pain.
After stumbling to my feet I ran but before I could get far enough my leg began to burn. Then everything goes blank, then I woke up in here, and now I'm going to die.
There are worse ways to die, there are better ways to die but there are worse ways to die. For the life of me I can't think of anything worth dying in this hell.
I heard Ethan, just before I blanked out completely I swore I heard Ethan yelling at me. He's yelled at me before, but I've never heard that tone directed at me. The one he'd use when talking about his life with Julia, sadly cut short, one that sounded lost and strained while still so determined.
I'm okay with dying now. I'm not happy about it but it's okay. My life has had a purpose, I helped saved people's lives more than once, this would be worth my death. I'm okay with no one knowing I died while retrieving information about a potential bomb big enough to destroy life as we know it. All I have to do is close my eyes.
"Benji, we're coming!"
End
You're allowed to make you own mind up on if Benji lives or the team get to him. It's really hard to describe things from a person's perspective of events, especially one that is like Benji.
Look out for a longer Benji story I have started. I don't know how long the story will be or if I plan on posting the story as I write it or once it's completely finished. Let me know what you'd prefer.
Please review, they help.
