Alex's Tears 2
AN: I'm not as happy with this, response appreciated.
Darkness is a spy's acquaintance, never a friend. It conceals movement, deafens noise, protects from observation. It also disguises illusion, a factor Alex hadn't truly appreciated before now; it his his grimy surroundings or gaping wounds from sight making it easier to resist or ignore them (with the latter becoming more common as the days sapped his strength).
At one point Alex had, like most young children, had a fear of the dark – of what it could contain. Ian had dealt with by spending days teaching Alex the tell-tale shadows and noises that show if someone or something is really there. He also, when the house was swathed in darkness, showed Alex how to improve and keep his night-vision.
Funny how his relationship with the dark changes: at first scared of it (a basic instinct programmed into the body), then scared of what it might contain, then scared of what he knows it contains (faces swimming past him – assassins, spies, bodies of those he once knew). Until he gave up any hope for rescue, Alex was terrified of what the dark didn't contain, that he would never find a way out.
But now as he listens to the kidnapped children's voices and the emotions contained in them (not the words, never the words since the first month, words are easily twisted - voices less so) and feels the blood drip out of his body he is glad for the darkness. It is concealing the hopeless situation from the children and more importantly the twist of wire he managed to palm during the last session, Alex's anchor to sanity. It is deafening the spasms of pain that every careful movement of his broken hands causes. It is protecting his dignity and what little pride he has left.
So when the time comes and Alex knows it will - for his stay has taught him patience - his captors won't see their deaths coming. And until then Alex won't acknowledge his death approaching as beautiful tears run down his face and meet the smile of vengeance on his face.