Disclaimer: Duh, why are you even reading this Disclaimer!? This is FANFICTION! NOBODY OWNS THE CHARACTERS THEY WRITE ABOUT! Although I am currently working on making a few business transactions so that I don't have to write this disclaimer...
Anyway, enjoy this soon-to-be-NOT fanfiction, and special thanks to Cosmosgreenpointing out my fatal time paradoxes that only the Doctor could ever fix! :thumbsup:
1
To Be, or Not to Be?
Suddenly the darkness began to fade. Face shook his head and blinked himself awake, wincing at the pain in his jaw.
He grimaced. He'd felt worse, like the time he was shot in the leg in Nam. A fever seemed to always be the end result. But was this worse? And would a fever necessarily be the conclusion? He wondered.
But the darkness didn't completely dissipate. A heated shadow, rounded like that of an enclosed space, surrounded him like steam. The only trace of light, was a thin strip of orange glow underneath…what? A door maybe? He couldn't tell. The humidity made his head spin.
He coughed violently and choked on something moist. He licked his parched lips and tasted his own blood.
Instinctively, his tongue recoiled back into his mouth as if it had been stung. He had been through a lot, but this? This was unexpected. He knew he was tough…at least, to an extent, but coughing up the stuff that ran through your veins? That was another story.
But he couldn't think about that now. He needed to collect INTEL even if it meant a few extra bruises. But still, he was aware of the fact that death overshadowed him in this instant. He just tried to ignore and forget it.
His forehead furrowed as he tried to focus on his assets and vulnerabilities. But the heat burned into his mind and thoughts until he was panting.
He closed his eyes and tried to think. Sweat beaded on his forehead and the heat made him blink.
But it was impossible. A voice was whispering in his ear, he could feel the warm breath, and the strange feeling of air tickling the ear canal. He now understood why some people needed a mute button. But he listened anyway.
The closet grew hotter and hotter until it was almost unbearable. He felt so sick, he couldn't stop coughing. Fresh blood, dark and thick, oozed onto his lips. He quickly cleaned them. The taste was bitter and coppery on his tongue. He couldn't help it.
The strange invisible voice continued, becoming more and more abusive. It seemed to bring out the most painful of memories. Those memories that he had stored at the back of his mind. He never talked to anyone about them. But, now…Tears came to his eyes.
He wished he could cover his ears, block out the voice. But his hands were manacled behind him. His muscles twinged as he fought, but it was no use. He felt helpless. The tears that he had forced back started again. A crystal drop travelled the journey down his face and dropped to the concrete.
It hadn't seemed so long since things had been going well. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to remember Hannibal's last instructions. But the voice cut into his thoughts like a knife. It was a woman's.
Face gasped. He felt ill. The memory of their last mission flashed before his eyes in black and white. He turned a lovely shade of green. The voice was shouting brutal things in his ears. His head dropped to his chest. Everything whirled.