Disclaimer: I don't own Far Cry.

A/N: My first fanfiction ever ;D, so yupyup. Kinda an oneshot, bit short... Meh, a short oneshot ;]
But just a heads up, guys, it's not beta'ed and English is not my first language (shouldn't be an excuse as why a story isn't good, so nop not an excuse) so sorry for any spelling or grammer mistakes. Critism is of course welcome, yet flames aren't.

Also this goes with the ''good ending''/save your friends ending.
I hope you enjoy. ~ Oneese


Jason laid his head down on the pillow. Eyes fluttering close, sweat pooling on his forehead. Another night, another nightmare and no sleep. Jason was pale these days, dark bags always present under his eyes and a look there that'd scare all.

Liza was worried, always hovering close by, like she was afraid her boyfriend would fall to the ground any second now. He hadn't yet, but the possibility grew with each passing day. She had asked him several times what made him scream, cry and too scared to sleep at night. Jason never answered, but Liza was a smart girl and she could guess.

She had been the island too, just like any of their friends. They didn't all make it off and she knew that had scarred them all. Yet Liza should have been a fool to believe that she could compare her experience to that of Jason, her scars, both mental and physically, to those of Jason. She couldn't and she shouldn't.

Liza was a smart girl and she knew that her lover had seen so much blood, violence and dead people that she sometimes wondered how Jason had stayed sane. How he hadn't lost his mind yet, she felt horrible if she thought about that, but the question remained.

Jason asked himself the very same thing, almost every night. How had his sanity survived the rollercoaster that his stay on Rook Island was?

He had seen his older brother bleed out on the ground, he tried to save him, but couldn't. The blood had poured out too quickly and Jason couldn't keep it in Grant's veins. The liquid had soaked his hands and he couldn't even say goodbye, before he had to run away from the very same man that killed Grant.

He had shot men in the head and several other body parts and it made him sick. He wasn't stratified when he heard a body hit the ground. He wasn't pleased when he saw the blood come out of a wound he made. He didn't like it when the crack of bones filled the air. Yet he knew that he needed to survive, save and then survive a little longer.

He hadn't liked it either when he put a bullet through Vaas' head, a killing blow it was and the man bled out on the floor. While he had felt satisfaction, pride and glee in that moment, now he looks back on it all he feels is disgust and maybe even a little fear of what he was in that moment. It was in that moment that he viewed himself as twisted, as a killer. He had liked to see the other die and he swore it was the last time. It wasn't.

The next time came quicker than Jason had expected and he had to thank Sam for that, but also he wasn't alive anymore. Hoyt was a twisted man, who didn't deserve to live and he knew that, but he couldn't find any comfort in that. How it had happened was so vague to Jason that he always has to look down to his hand to remind himself that it was real, that it hadn't been another nightmare. That Hoyt killed Sam in front of him and that he plunged a knife in Hoyt's stomach. He had twisted and turned it for a bit and then he went for his brother. Riley needed him and Jason didn't think about Hoyt a lot, just reminding himself that nobody would miss the slave shipper.

And when he was ready to leave the island with Riley, Liza and everyone else, Dennis came. Not happy or glad that he could go home, but angry and outraged and maybe a little jealous. Jason had refused to join Citra and his friend, his only friend on the island, didn't take kindly to that. The betrayal was more painful than he thought it would be. Dennis had looked at him with crazy eyes full of hatred and unsheathed his machete. He had eyes of a killer when he came towards the outsiders with a crazed smile.

Then suddenly Citra, Citra who Jason had rejected, jumped in front of him like some kind of hero. And in that moment she was one. His friend was so surprised, Citra was dying and Jason just stood there after the light faded from her eyes. Dennis bawled his eyes out and Liza was urging him to move. Riley called his name and Oliver shook his shoulder. It was Keith who lifted him, like some live-sized doll. It was that moment, Jason decided, that it all became too much.

How had he survived it? Why wasn't he six feet under yet? Why did he have to experience killing every single one of them again and again, was that fair? Jason didn't know how it was possible he hadn't gone insane yet. But he knew that if the night terrors kept coming, even that last bit of sanity he had left would give away to craziness.