Prisoner writes, without lights, half a mile underground.
He's won the hearts of the murderous thieves he can't see that surround.
The darkness was all-consuming, so thick that he could taste it. It pressed against him, squeezing the air out of his lungs as it held him tightly to the wall. He struggled for breath; he struggled to hold on to the knowledge that it was all in his head. Though the darkness was deep, it hadn't swallowed the rest of the world, and it couldn't take him if he didn't let it.
He couldn't remember the last time he had seen another human being, or even heard their approach. Fairly certain that it had at least been a few hours, he wouldn't have been surprised if it had actually been days. But still the darkness and the silence continued, an unending reminder that he was alone.
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And the rain cries for him.
"I miss you," she said quietly, staring down at the headstone.
The rain fell steadily, soaking her through, making her clothes cling to her like desperate hands. But she didn't notice, her eyes focused on the name in front of her, her tears mingling with the rain drops that slid down her cheeks.
"You probably think it's stupid," she continued, her arms wrapped around herself, "me standing here, talking to your grave. You're not down there – it was just a ruse to make everyone think you were dead."
She paused, her thoughts wandering and taking her to dark images that haunted her even in her sleep.
"We don't even know if you're still alive," she whispered. "But I can't give up on you. Not now…not ever. It sounds cheesy, but…I think I would know, if you were already gone. But something tells me that you're not…that you're waiting for me to find you." She swallowed back the lump in her throat. "And I will find you, Jack. I promise."
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And the chains bind to him like they'll never see him again.
Like they'll never know him again.
Like they'll never hold him again.
Hold him again.
Love him.
Love him again.
The chains felt like a part of him now – an extension of his skin. At first they had chafed, breaking him open, rubbing him raw. But that time had passed long ago, and his body had resigned itself to the fact that he was a prisoner.
Despite his body's acceptance, though, his mind reared back like a caged animal. It clawed and fought back, sometimes causing him pain as it struggled to retain some sense of freedom…some sense of self. It brought up memories he thought he had buried long ago, forcing the tears to stream down his face. But the pain reminded him that he was alive; it reminded him that he wasn't dead – not yet. So he held on to the pain with every ounce of strength that he had.
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Again they say,
Take me home.
Take me home.
Take me home, when you're done here.
Take me home.
Take me home.
Take me home, 'cause I'm done here.
"I'm coming," she insisted.
Curtis sighed. "No, Chloe. You're not."
She got in his face, forcing him to look her in the eye. "This is Jack," she gritted out, the tears building in her eyes. "I can't sit here and wait for you to bring him home. I have to go, Curtis. Either you take me with you or I'll fly myself over."
"I'll make sure Bill keeps you here."
She gave him a hard look. "You really think there's anything any of you can do to keep me from going to him?"
Curtis looked at her for a long moment, the desperation and determination in her voice tearing at his heart. "You'd really do anything to save him, wouldn't you?" he asked quietly.
"I already have."
Staring at her for another minute, he finally nodded curtly. "We leave at dawn."
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Somebody says 'I could sure use some water. It's been so long.'
Prisoner replies, 'To quench our thirst, how about a song?'
His throat was so raw that he could barely swallow. Even thinking about the act caused him pain, so he did what he could to avoid the idea entirely. Fleeing from his body's dire situation, his mind rifled through old memories, this time looking for pleasure instead of pain.
He saw Kim again, six months old and the most beautiful thing he had ever seen in his life. She hated thunder and lightening, a fear she hadn't entirely grown out of the last time he knew, and she was screaming her head off. But her cries didn't take the smile from his face as he walked back and forth through the nursery, humming softly to her. It had taken almost an hour, but she had finally settled down, nestled in the safety of his arms.
Back in his cell, ragged sounds escaped his throat. Had anyone been listening, they would have been able to just barely string together the notes of 'You Are My Sunshine.'
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And the rain cries for him.
The pounding of the rain on the asphalt hid the fall of their footsteps as they ran across the empty lot. Clouds obscured the light of the moon, and they melded into the shadows, becoming one with the darkness.
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And the chains bind to him, like they'll never see him again.
Like they'll never know him again.
Like they'll never hold him again.
Hold him again.
Love him.
Love him again.
He didn't feel the chains fall from his skin, but he did hear them clatter to the floor. The sound was startlingly loud, an intrusion on the silence that had been his only companion for God knew how long. They fell away slowly, as though reluctant to let him go after holding on to him for what felt like an eternity. But as the metal clinking echoed in his ears, his mind slowly caught on, putting together the pieces of what was happening.
For one moment, a paralyzing fear swept over him. Without the chains, he was no longer a prisoner – what was he then? He froze, terrified, as his world suddenly turned, taking on an entirely new meaning, forcing him to face something other than the shadows and silence that he had known for so long.
But then the moment was over, and his body remembered. It remembered that it wasn't made to be caged, to be bound by steel. He took a shaky breath, and then another, and if he had remembered how, he would have smiled at the knowledge that he was finally breathing as a free man.
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Again they say,
Take me home.
Take me home.
Take me home, when you're done here.
Take me home.
Take me home.
Take me home, when you're done here.
As the rain made contact with his skin, he slowly became more aware of his surroundings. Though the night was dark, it was nothing compared to his cell, and he lifted his face, breathing deeply. Looking to the person next to him, he realized that the strong arms half-carrying, half-dragging him away from that Hell belonged to Curtis. For a moment, his friend's eyes met his, and in them, he saw an immense sadness almost bordering on pity, mingled with a righteous anger that could have burned a man to ashes at his feet.
But then he was being lifted and laid down on something softer than anything his memory held. He almost cried in relief as his head made contact with a pillow, and then almost laughed at how foreign that word sounded.
He was suddenly aware of someone leaning over him, and for a moment, the terror returned. His panic rose as he expected to hear a sharp Asian accent detailing exactly what they were going to do to him this time. But instead of pain, a gentle hand reached out and cupped his face, the thumb running slowly along his cheekbone.
"It's okay, Jack," she whispered. "I've got you now. You're safe. I won't let them hurt you anymore."
This time tears streamed down his face as he realized that she was there. He should have known that if anyone could find him, it would be her, and that she would never abandon him. His mouth opened and he struggled to speak, wanting nothing more than to speak her name, to say a simple thank you that wouldn't even come close to repaying the debt he owed her.
"Shhhh…" she whispered, seeing him struggle. Leaning down, she placed a soft kiss on his forehead and took on of his hands in hers. "You don't have to talk, Jack. Just rest. You'll be home soon."
He stared up into her face, his eyes tracing every line, recommitting it to memory. Some things were different from the last time he had seen her, but it was her. There wasn't a single other person in the world that he would have rather seen at that moment. Seeing the small smile on her face, he closed his mouth, knowing that he would thank her in every way he could when they got back home.
For now, he squeezed her hand as tightly as he could and held on for dear life.
Take me home.
Take me home.
Take me home, 'cause I'm done here.