Midnight Reality
Rating: PG
Category: Angst
Spoilers: Now would I really do that?
Season: Let's say seven, or even future because it might not fit in very well anywhere else.
Disclaimer: I washed the deed to the SG-1 franchise when I did laundry last week. So I guess technically, I don't own it anymore.
Summary: Someone is dreaming....or are they?
Author's note: This is written in second person. For some, it may be difficult to read, but believe me it is more difficult to write. If I have not delivered a proficient use of this writing style, please feel free to let me know at the end. Enjoy!
You feel the rhythmic beats of your heart reverberate from within your ears. Everything is dark around you. The floor that you are lying on, is freezing, solid stone. You blink to try and get your eyes used to the pitch-black night that keeps threatening to invade your mind like the images did only moments ago. You realize that your weapon is gone, as are all of the pieces of gear that you came to this world wearing. Questions race through your mind in the final moments of confusion as the dream...or nightmare wears off.
Where are you? Where is your team? Why is there only darkness? How long have you been here? Are you alone? You feel the palms of your hands start to sweat, and your temples begin to pulse. You now try to sit up from the position that you are lying in on the floor. Why are your feet bound? Why are your hands? You realize that your hands are bound above your head. They must be bound to a wall or something. A searing pain rips through your left hand as you attempt, to no avail, to wring your hands free of your restraints. Cold and solid, just like the floor. Tight against your wrists too.
You scrape your rear end side to side to get a little feeling into your feet. Why are the images of your dream not fading? Why are they so clear in your mind? A flash... light all around you, as you remember the torture. The screaming is too much for your heart to handle. The sight of pain, when it was not inflicted upon you was too difficult to watch. You turn your head so as not to see. Another flash, and it is dark again, and your mind has returned to your current situation.
You open your mouth to scream out a word, a cry for help, anything, but your throat betrays you from the lack of moisture. A parched, dry, whisper is all that escapes your lips. You definitely believe now that you are alone in this very dark room. Nothing is covering your eyes, but you do begin to notice how sore the right one is. Swollen probably, like your lips seem to be. Another flash of memory, and you remember the water, and the force holding your head under until little gray spots appeared in front of your eyes from holding your breath. Suddenly, there was air, and you felt yourself being thrown down onto the floor, but you were relieved as your lungs took in life. A glimpse of his face and the flash of memory is gone.
The water in your dream makes you thirstier, and you lick your lips. Deep down, you know it has been way too long since you have been in here. Another flash takes you back to the torture room, where you are bound like you are at this time, but with all the lanterns glowing and the equipment arranged on the little tray beside you. Arranged in an eerie sort of way; methodical, mechanical, but deadly. Then he comes at you again with the long one he has been carrying since he started in on you. That's his favorite one, the one that hurts the most. You feel your heart in your chest beating so strong now, it feels like your ribs are going to bust with every strained breath you try to take.
Then darkness, as your mind lets you relax ever so slightly by returning you to the stillness of the present. Wait...you hear something. Your ears are extra sensitive in the quiet night. Yes, it is definitely coming closer to you. Footsteps, yes, footsteps! They're coming back for you aren't they? Your body's systems kick into gear, and you brace for anything that might happen. And then, there it is. A sound of a door opening. But it's not your door, if it was, you would know it. You would see something...anything.
Now, an explosion! Gunshots! Your ears are on fire, as is your heart. It's the rest of your team, you just know it! A soldier's instincts tell you to prepare for battle the best way that you know how. You feel your arms involuntarily tense up against the restraints on your arms. Ouch, you feel a little wet warmth as the blood trickles down your left hand. That one must be tighter than the right, because you don't feel the pressure on the right one at all. Wait a minute... you can't really feel the right arm at all. What's going on?
Suddenly, a bath of light washes over you. There! In the doorway, it's him! No! No more torture! You just know that your body will surrender this time. You just know in your heart that you do not have the strength to fight much longer. You again attempt to scream, but your mouth is still dry, your tongue and lips are still swollen. But your mind screams for you, as the figure moves from the doorway to you in a hurry. Next, you realize with uncertainty that he is releasing the bonds on your arms, and the ties on your legs. Next comes the cool, wet sensation on your lips, and to your desperate throat. Unexpectedly, you choke. What if he is poisoning you? Your mind tells you to rebel and get up and run, but your thirsty throat defies you, and you surrender to its need.
As your mind begins to fog up again, you feel light. You feel like you are flying. As the gray patches swim in front of your eyes, for one last time, you understand now, that he is taking you home. And you feel the tears come, unable to control them; and unable to control the sleep that follows close behind.
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You open your eyes and see a soft light from the hallway. You hear a familiar beeping sound. You see a familiar face, and you are in a familiar room. Your arms are free and warm under the covers, but your right hand is sticking out to the side. The bed also feels familiar, warm and a bit uncomfortable, but not like when you were on the stone floor.
It is night here too, but you only know that because everything is quiet. You wiggle your toes under the covers. Yes, they are all still there, and you have feeling in every single one.
You turn your head to the side and see him sitting so still in the chair next to you. His arms are folded around himself in a sleeping hug, and a smile creeps onto your bruised face. You know it's bruised, everything hurts, and your lips are still swollen. No one has noticed your conscious state. You look over to the wall for some reason at the calendar hanging up to one side.
Has it really been five weeks since you were last here? Was it really five weeks of torture and darkness? It doesn't matter. You look again at the older man at your side. A familiar face. His face. Never leave a man behind. That's his code. You close your eyes as you whisper a thank you to the sleeping occupant of the chair. A silent tear slips down your face as you hear him whisper a "you're welcome" in return. It is good to be home.