Chapter 3

Bring Me To Life

The steady creaking of wood roused Sollux, though he didn't open his eyes right away. There was a pungent smell in the air. Saltwater and something fouler. Sweat maybe. And a hint of gunpowder. His face itched, but as he moved to scratch he found his hands were tied securely behind his back. He became more aware of his surroundings. His muscles ached, particularly his biceps, shoulders, and chest from where he had slumped forward in the chair and his arms had pulled to keep him in it. He twisted his arms behind him causing the rope to cut into his wrists. As his eyes became adjusted to the darkness, he could barely make out the wood of the keel and the bars that made the wall of his cell. The slow rocking told him they were in still waters, possibly Charleston Harbor. His tongue darted out to wet his dry, cracked lips and he tasted the iron tang of blood. That must be what was making his face itch so damn badly. At least they had been civil enough to remove his uniform coat, the heat down in the brig was stifling. As he tried to shake the fuzziness from his brain and recall the past few hours, Sollux heard heavy boots approach.

They started almost directly above his head, faint at first, then landing onto the very planks that made the deck above him. Slowly, steadily, the clomp of the boots receded away from him for several tense seconds. Sollux tried to judge the length of the ship by the number of steps. Seventy Eight. Eighty Two. Eighty Five. This ship had to be massive! Sollux tried to recall the list of ships in the Confederate fleet but names just eluded him. Scraping Metal. No, keys in a lock. A door opened some distance away and the faintest of orange glows painted the wood several yards away, like a russet sunset. Then boots to creaky, half rotted steps. One. Two. Three. Four. Sollux ran his tongue over his lips again and tried to straighten himself as best he could, though his muscles screamed in protest. The orange glow became brighter, painting the detailed ribbing of the wood that made the skeleton of the ship. Suddenly a lantern appeared from behind a wall, the smoke-stained yellow of the flame causing his eyes to flinch shut, his dark vision lost.

The lantern approached, accompanied by the plodding of hard leather on decayed timbers and Sollux's mind raced for a moment fearing a phantom devil was approaching. Then his rational brain took over and told him someone had to be carrying the lantern. He had to stop letting the stories of the other men spook him. Stories of southern devils that would appear out of the woods and take Union Soldiers to feed on their flesh made good campfire yarns but were just that, tall tales. The swish of a cloak caught the light as the shape of a man developed from the shadows. As Sollux's eyes adjusted further to the change in the light, a smooth, youthful face appeared above the lantern. As the man reached the wall of bars, he hung the lantern on a peg the stuck out from the walls, letting the light flood over him and allowing Sollux to size up his captor.

The man was tall and lean, his shoulders broad and accentuated by a flowing swath of a deep mauve cloak complimenting his ashen Confederate uniform. His hair was black and long, swooping back and sticking up at odd angles, most likely from where the sea spray had wetted then dried in his hair. His face was angular and sharp, his jaw set, and a pair of thin wireframe glasses hung on his nose. When he shifted away from the light, the glare moved from the lenses and Sollux nearly gasped at the startlingly purple eyes that shone from behind the spectacles. He never took his eyes off Sollux as his keys jangled and the bolt of the lock made a noisy protest, the door squealing as it swung inward.

As the man approached, the sweet scent of cedar brushed across Sollux's face, forcing away the pungent smell of brine and decay. Sollux prepared himself for a pistol to be drawn, or maybe a dagger. He'd prefer a led slug in the chest than cold metal on his throat. But the man made no move for a weapon, instead he inspected Sollux with an even gaze, though the corners of his mouth curled up ever so slightly. Finally, the man spoke.

"Howw are you feelin'?" He sounded pleasant enough, and only a slight southern accent crept into his speech, along with a very mild stutter.

Sollux had to swallow hard and remember to respond, he hadn't expected any questions, let alone one as amiable as this one, "My fathe itcheth."

"That wwould be the blood," The man frowned before reaching towards his pocket and Sollux closed his eyes.

So he WAS going to shoot him after all. But when the feather light touch of soft fabric tickled the side of his face, his eyes shot open and he jerked away with a confused sneer, "What the hell?"

The man stood slightly bent over with a handkerchief clutched in his hand, dried red flakes of blood now staining the white fabric, his lips pursed, "Wwell I wwas tryin' to help."

"What do you want from me?" Sollux spat, leaning away as the man tried to wipe more blood away, though he entertained the thought of letting this Confederate officer clean him up just for the laugh he'd get out of it later.

"Pardon me for tryin' to be civvil," The man straightened himself once more, "Are you hungry? Need the privvy? Cold?"

"Cold?" Sollux scoffed, "It'th like a damn furnathe down here."

"Suit yourself," he turned abruptly and began to walk away and Sollux almost called for him to wait, but the man just grabbed a stool that was laying on its side nearby and placed it upright in front of the bound soldier before seating himself in it with a flourish of his cape.

They stared at each other for a long moment before the other man spoke, his voice soft and curious, "Wwhat do you remember?"

"You mean before thith?" When the man nodded, Sollux looked away, trying to jumpstart his memory, "I wath thcouting for General Sherman…"

"Before that," the man interrupted.

"We were in Atlanta…" Sollux tried to recall.

"Before that," he interrupted again.

"I wath at the battle of…"

"Before that."

Sollux looked at the man incredulously before sarcastically continuing, "I thinged up for the army…"

"Before that."

"I grew up in…"

"Before that."

"I wath born," Sollux's voice raised in anger as the man interrupted him repeatedly.

The man was quiet for a moment, then nearly whispered, "And before that?"

"Before what?" Sollux bellowed, "If thith ith thome kind of torture, it won't work. If thith ith…whatever thith ith, I won't tell you anything."

The man sighed and rubbed his temples before muttering, "I thought by noww…"

"Well you thought wrong," Sollux interrupted him for a change, "If you think you little gameth can break me, Ampora, you are dead wrong. I…"

"Howw did you knoww my name?" The man interrupted him, his head snapping up, his eyes suddenly gleaming.

"What?" Sollux thought quickly but could honestly not remember how he had known this man's name was Ampora. Maybe he had read it on the mission briefing, there were only so many ships and only so many officers and the metals on his uniform signified he was a Commodore and they were few and far between.

The man moved closer and Sollux couldn't look away from those lilac eyes, the sparkle made him shiver despite the heat. They grew steadily closer until the smell of cedar and the man's warm breath rolled over Sollux, making the shivers intensify. Again he asked, "Howw did you knoww my name?"

Sollux swallowed, "I don't know."

Ampora smiled and then their lips were touching. It was awkward. It was warm. Suddenly the room was too hot. Way too hot. Uncomfortably hot. Smotheringly hot. Sollux gasped for air and his hands flailed, contacting fabric and he tore at it, gasping for breath as he emerged from the pile of blankets and pillows. Shaking off the haze of the dream, Sollux fumbled for his phone on his night stand. It was just after 9pm. He had an hour till he was picking up Aradia and taking her to the club. Sollux flopped back onto his pillow mound and stared at the ceiling. The dream seemed so real, and it was rare he had dreams so vivid, and he never had dreams about kissing another man. Sollux shook it off and removed himself from the stuffy confines of his bed. He needed a shower.