XX

I sat beside Thompson's bedside for days. He laid unconscious for two days. They told me my hand would heal quickly, especially since nothing was broken. I had a large cut along my forehead, one that would stretch from my widow's peak down to my ear, barely clipping the edge of my eyebrow. There was a chance some of the cuts along my hand would scar too, but it was highly unlikely. They had high hopes for me. They didn't have the same hope for Thompson.

He woke briefly on day three. He muttered unintelligently, eyes unopened and hands flailing. After a moment of such movements, he slipped back to sleep. The nurses said this was a good sign. He slept for another few days before waking up again. This time he spoke intelligently, though mostly in mumbles. He spoke about work, about me. He said multiple times that he didn't want to die. He slipped in and out of these conversations but ultimately, he wasn't fully conscious. After a week or so, he finally woke up.

"Hey," his voice was rough from lack of use.

"Hey," I replied softly.

"How long have I been out?"

"A week. Maybe more."

"Your head…"

His hand slowly raised, pointing to the patch on my forehead. I tapped it gently, still feeling the sting when touching it.

"Not as bad as it looks," I answered. "Could've been worse, I guess."

"That's good," he nodded, looking around. "They show up yet?"

I nodded.

"They'll shoot us," he whispered. "It's procedure."

"I know."

He turned to me, eyes widened. I looked behind me and found Monica and her guard standing over me. She was smiling, arms crossed as she looked down at us. Thompson sat up as best he could with all the tubes and wires attached to him. He frowned, glaring at her.

"Fancy seeing you here," he sneered.

"Now, now, Thompson," she hummed. "I'm not here to do what you think."

He relaxed back into his pillow, panting from the will it took to sit up. I rested my hand on his shoulder. He looked at me, smiling lightly.

"So, you're not here to kill us?" he huffed. "What are you here for?"

"A simple test," she replied as the guard handed her the gun.

She tossed it onto him. He took it up quickly, pointing it at her with hesitation. She didn't seem fazed by this, nor the guard. She even chuckled, rolling her eyes.

"You want out of this, Thompson?"

He lowered the gun slightly.

"What do you want me to do?"

"Shoot her."

She gestured to me. I perked, looking between her and Thompson. His eyes darted between us, hands shaking as it held onto the gun. Eventually, he let out a deep sigh, turning the gun toward me. His eyes were pleading, but there was nothing I could do. I relaxed my shoulders, simply looking at him. He shut his eyes. I heard the trigger pulled back, followed by a click. I was still there. No pain. I opened my eyes.

Thompson's hands were shaking, but the gun was still pointed at me. I could see tears in his eyes. He lowered the gun before finally throwing it onto the ground. It clattered onto the tile, bouncing once before skittering across the floor. Monica leaned over and picked up the gun. She clicked it back, pulling the ammo pack out. It was empty.

"That desperate, eh, Thompson?" she purred, looking up at him.

"We both deserve it," he whispered, looking at his hands.

"Too bad," she chuckled, handing the gun off to her guard. "Foundation has stuff for you to do."

"What now?" he groaned.

"Since the site is being reconstructed, many of our agents are being reassigned to other sites," she explained. "However, you two have a special job. You'll like it, Thompson, it's a manager job."

"Why do I get the feeling I'll regret this…"

"You'll be going between sites and SCP locations in order to verify containment and reestablish protocol."

"So, you're assigning us to field agents?" he snapped. "Field agents are the going nowhere assignments!"

"Would you prefer I shot you?"

He grumbled, looking away. I guess he valued his life just a little bit. He glanced at me, eyebrow raised, before turning back to Monica.

"We're being partnered?"

"Yes. For now."

"How long?"

"Uncertain."

"How well's the pay?"

She giggled which I couldn't tell if that was a good or bad thing. She waved her guard out. He marched out and shut the door as silently as he exists.

"Once you are within acceptable conditions, you will be given your first assignment."

"Which is?"

She shrugged.

"I can't tell you at this time."

"Of course, you can't."

"Enjoy your bed rest," she hummed, stepping into the doorframe. "You two are in for a fun road trip."

Continued in SCP: Crossroads