Aghh!!! I've been trying to upload this thing for three days!! but between the virus my computer contracted and 's spiffy "we're going to do upgrades for the next 48 hours" thing its been Hell in a handbasket!! -.-; Oh well, here it is :D Fun game: see if you can find out who's who :P Hope you like it!!


A dull, persistent throb that radiated through his skull was the first thing that brought Jim to a state of semi-consciousness. Well, "consciousness" is a relative term. Everything was still dark and oppressive, the way a blackened room is when you're all alone. You could look all you wanted but in the darkness you see nothing. It had been this way for a while now; little sparks of coherence filtering through his mind and making him just aware enough of his surroundings to realize he was awake before disappearing as quickly as it had come.

He was vaguely aware of sensations, cold wires and tubes clinging to his skin like they had become a part of him. His body ached even though he immobile, a deep, bone-clinging ache that made him shudder and want to move. Something soft was beneath him, plastic and foam melded together to form something close to being comfortable. Too bad in his current state it felt like laying on lava rock. The gashes along his back were still raw and sore, the pain dulled by his long-standing denial of the conscious world. Fabric burned, cloth rubbed raw, it was impossible to bear it.

He wanted to move, to at least switch positions so he wasn't laying flat on the inflamed wounds, but he came to sudden realization that his body wouldn't move. Not so much wouldn't, per se, but more like his body refused to acknowledge the signals his brain was sending down. He could twitch his finger with little effort but everything else felt like it was weighted down with lead. And it hurt like hell, not to mention is was damn irritating.

Another sensation emerged, the wonderful sense of hearing. There were voices above him, reigning down from the ceiling like the voice of God. He tried to open his eyes, look at the faces of the ones talking, but his eyes refused to open as well. Well fine, seeing is overrated anyway. He listened, the edges of his reality blurring with the comforting embrace of darkness that lingering just next it. There was a soft beeping noise as well, almost like the gentle tick of clock but slightly louder. Funny, it seemed to be competing with the rhythm of the throbbing in his head.

The voices were speaking again, three of them in the oblivion above him. One had a heavy accent, speaking quickly in a way that was hard to understand. Too much concentration made the headache worse. Another voice chimed in, this one also heavy with accent but sounding much younger. The name was nearly on the tip of Jim's tongue, teetering just out of reach. The third voice spoke clearly, evenly in the midst of the other two. It was still hard to understand; the beeping of the monitor was beginning to get irritating.

The first voice spoke again, recommending something to one of the other phantom beings. The second voice, heavily accented as the first, said something close to "checkmate." There was a brief sound like a chuckle and then a soft curse from the last unidentified speaker.

The hell? Was he dead?! Was this Heaven and everyone played Checkers all day?! Good God, if that was the case he never wanted to die. How boring could and eternity of Checkers be?!

There was a sudden tightening in his chest, a sharp, searing pain as he breathed in. The monitor began to react with him, the persistent beeping noise increasing. The voices stopped immediately, a panicked silence filling the void. A siren wailed, screeching to be heard in a room full of silence. Suddenly hands were all over him, touching, pulling, tugging at the wires that had coiled themselves into his skin. One eye was forced open, a bright light shining directly over him. There was a flash of blue, the hiss of a voice cursing, and the sudden weightlessness that was left once the pain in his chest faded away.

A sharp stab of a needle in his arm (he hated needles) and another curse. Something about blood pressure above him and something plastic and flexible was placed over his mouth and nose. He was vaguely aware of the bitter coppery taste in the back of his mouth, the shudder of his own chest as his coughed to remove it. Something warm spattered against the plastic, dripping down and trickling down the creases made in his skin.

Another siren wailed and a sudden jolt of electricity tingled through his skin. It hurt, like licking a car battery, but he couldn't react enough to move away. The shrill, squeal of electrical frequency as it gained strength. Another jolt and the tingling sensation felt duller this time. He wanted to move, to cry out, anything but there was nothing he could do. He figured an eternity of Checkers was his fate after all as the last remaining strand of consciousness was severed and he tumbled back into nothingness.

It was much harder to grasp onto that severed cord this time around. It danced just out of range, tempting him and mocking his inability to catch it. He felt like he was stuck in a pool of tar, sinking more than swimming. The darkness was heavy, driving him crazy. And that beeping wasn't helping either. He wanted unplug it, whatever it was, or smash it with something large and blunt. Once he could move again that is. The weighted feeling in his limbs had returned, pinning him to the softness beneath. Struggle all you like, you're not going anywhere. He was sure if he body could talk that's what it would be saying right about now.

OOOOO

His hand was propped in something, probably the only part of his body he could actually feel at the time. It was soft and warm, long, slender extensions wrapping around his limp fingers. Fingers? Had to be. Focus just a bit more and he could fell the smooth skin of a hand holding his. Hah, sight be damned!

The grip was gentle yet tight, the skin far too soft to be male. The owner seemed miles away, as if only their hand remained to provide a small bit of comfort. He wondered who it was.

"...You're so stupid..." A voice scolded from above him and Jim wanted to frown. He'd been called plenty of things in his life but stupid was just an insult. "You're so Goddamn stupid..." The voice scolded again and he was getting more irritated with each passing second. There was no need for rudeness.

Something warm splashed against his hand, slipping between his fingers. Did someone turn on a sprinkler? The owner of the hand, the phantom being above him, let out a soft hitched breath, almost like trying to suppress a cry. It was a tiny sound, unnoticed to the emptiness above him, but he heard it and all the irritation faded.

He hated it when people cried. And for that matter why were they crying to begin with? There was nothing wrong to cry about.

"...Such and idiot..." The owner of the hand scolded once more but the voice was shaky, faltering as the words became vocal.

Aww...don't cry...He wanted to offer some form of reassurance but the fragile hold he had on the real world was slipping away. Before he could say anything, the world faded again and he was alone.

OOOOO

"Cocky-ass kid..."

The words echoed down into his subconscious, bringing him back little by little. But now, instead of waiting for the world to adjust around him, he had a list of questions already racing through his mind. Who was talking now? Why couldn't he open his eyes still? When the hell did he become narcoleptic enough to pass out mid-conversation?

"Were you trying to get yourself killed?" The new voice demanded and there was a sharp jab in his wrist, something that felt like another needle (okay, they were really going to have to talk about the needle thing when he got up). "You got all this male bravado that nearly gets you landed in the morgue. Happy now, Jim?" The voice was angry but more than that it was desperate, like talking would keep him from falling into the void again.

"You should have said something..." There was resignation now, a sense of defeat in the air. "Believe it or not you don't have to prove yourself to everyone...you could have asked for help..." More defeat and Jim felt his jaw clench. This was second time he wanted to comfort the unseen presence above him and he couldn't do it. And what was he asking for help for...?

"You gotta pull through this, kid..." The voice said, a whisper more than anything. Pull through what? Was he stuck somewhere? "You're not really going to let that pointy-eared bastard take over this ship are you?"

Who? A face drifted through his memory and he nearly had a name but it vanished.

Something touched his face, brushing hair away from his forehead. The touch was gentle from hands that weren't used to using such restrain. "Come on, kid...you have to wake up..."

Oh, there was nothing more that he wanted to do than wake up but it seemed impossible right now. Especially reality was slowly fading again and he was slipping back into the darkness. Oh well, the dark recesses of his mind had become comfortable, why not stay and visit for a while?


So was it okay?? I wanted to do little snippets of Jim's consciousness without revealing the entire thing O.o Oh, and the siren thing at the beginning was him flatlining in case anyone missed it :P Hope you liked it!! :D