Memories Returned
Written for the prompt : Dark Angel, Alec, His nights are filled with dreams of the horrible things he had to do for Manticore.
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Memories Returned
He sits up sharply, eyes flitting round the darkened room. Darkened; not dark, never dark. Lights gleam through the window from the streets outside casting a reddened glow on the room, enough for him to make out the lines and form of furniture, the shadows too shallow for anything to hide in.
His breathing calms and he tries to push away the stubborn remnants of his dream. Yet in truth he knows it wasn't a dream . . . it was a reality. And it will never leave him be.
The tug, pull, kick of a body held in front of him by his garrotte around its neck, until the body goes limp, then he holds and holds a little longer, just to be sure. The blood spurting thick through his fingers, the copper tang assaulting his nose as he stabs into a target. The frantic clasp of hands around his wrists trying to force him away as his own hands close tighter and tighter round the expanse of neck, the flutter of a desperate pulse against his fingertips until the mission is achieved.
The longer he's out of Manticore the more of the memories come back; the more of the pain he relives.
As he drifts to sleep again, he remembers teeth and torture, running and fighting. But most of all he remembers dying in a wood at Max's hand. He remembers being Ben.