simon_doctor (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
simon_doctor) wrote2006-06-24 11:48 pm
simon_doctor) wrote2006-06-24 11:48 pm
Coreplot: Awakening
Simon is awake with no transition, no slow struggle up into consciousness. No merciful forgetfulness.
His throat hurts, and he remembers screaming his rage into the trees where no birds sang; his head hurts, and he remembers the sting of the dart in the back of his neck, the swelling blackness that dragged him down.
His eyes are closed, and feel too heavy to open, but he knows what he'll see when he opens them. There is a soft surface under his cheek, but he knows better than to hope even for a moment that it's his own bed, that he's in any place he's ever called home.
With an effort, he drags his eyes open and looks without surprise at the walls of the little room.
(Got a message for you, Doc.)
The little cell.
(...And then we go on a magical mystery walk in the woods. It'll be a scream.)
...No. Oh god, no.
(WHO SHOT MY SISTER?)
Involuntarily, he curls on his side like a poked bug, jaw clenched, struggling to hold down the contents of his stomach. He was warned. They were warned.
(Your destruction)
River's unease this morning (was it still this morning?) -- I don't want you to go, I want to go with you -- her growing distress as he packed up to leave the barn....
(and the destruction of all you love)
She's not in the cell with him, and he knows better than to hope that means she escaped. It means she's here somewhere else, in a different cell. Or
(is very near, Doctor)
it means she's dead.
Simon clamps his jaw shut and lies there trying to stop shaking. Calm. Control. You won't be any good to anybody if you can't hold it together.
It's far too soon when there's a click and a hiss, and Simon opens his eyes to see the cell door slide open on two guards in Alliance military uniforms. One stays at the door with his sidearm drawn; the other enters and gestures to Simon to get up.
"Let's go."
His throat hurts, and he remembers screaming his rage into the trees where no birds sang; his head hurts, and he remembers the sting of the dart in the back of his neck, the swelling blackness that dragged him down.
His eyes are closed, and feel too heavy to open, but he knows what he'll see when he opens them. There is a soft surface under his cheek, but he knows better than to hope even for a moment that it's his own bed, that he's in any place he's ever called home.
With an effort, he drags his eyes open and looks without surprise at the walls of the little room.
(Got a message for you, Doc.)
The little cell.
(...And then we go on a magical mystery walk in the woods. It'll be a scream.)
...No. Oh god, no.
(WHO SHOT MY SISTER?)
Involuntarily, he curls on his side like a poked bug, jaw clenched, struggling to hold down the contents of his stomach. He was warned. They were warned.
(Your destruction)
River's unease this morning (was it still this morning?) -- I don't want you to go, I want to go with you -- her growing distress as he packed up to leave the barn....
(and the destruction of all you love)
She's not in the cell with him, and he knows better than to hope that means she escaped. It means she's here somewhere else, in a different cell. Or
(is very near, Doctor)
it means she's dead.
Simon clamps his jaw shut and lies there trying to stop shaking. Calm. Control. You won't be any good to anybody if you can't hold it together.
It's far too soon when there's a click and a hiss, and Simon opens his eyes to see the cell door slide open on two guards in Alliance military uniforms. One stays at the door with his sidearm drawn; the other enters and gestures to Simon to get up.
"Let's go."