Waking Up...
Fic on the theme of someone being in an uncomfortable situation...
Waking Up
Fandom: Orphan Black
Words: 309
Felix felt himself rise into consciousness, and in that sudden response that stress chemicals can stimulate, his brain raced over a myriad of thoughts and reactions in mere seconds….as it had many times in his life when he awoke in an unfamiliar place and time.
First, physical.
Eyes closed, keep ‘em closed. Check.
Sitting straight up-in a chair, then. Check. (Not passed out in some hook-ups bed, okay.)
Arms pinned to sides, uh-oh.
No physical pain, good. No hangover, good.
Next, what/where.
Given life of late, could be anything. Thanks to Sarah’s shenanigans, he had in the last few months been held at gunpoint, almost kidnapped, almost arrested, arrested, punched, and held at gunpoint again. This…could be anything. The no pain thing was good, though.
Gradually-though actually only over another few seconds-he let his senses come back on line. Eyes still closed, shamming unconsciousness in case that bought him some time. Smell-dusty, even chalk dusty. Sound coming in over the stress-induced roaring in his ears: lot of voices, muttering, murmuring, even shouting. Not alone in a dungeon then. In a public or semi-public place.
Sigh. Even as he was determining to bite the bullet-hopefully not literally ha-ha-open his eyes and see what kind of effed-up situation he was in this time…a sharp jab in his ribs made him yell “OW!” and glare to his right, where Alison was hissing at him, “For god’s sake, Felix, you were snoring! Wake up! The talent show is about to begin!” Shaking her finger at him, she composed herself and looked forward with a big, even slightly manic, smile on her face. "Let's go, Gemma, come on Oscar!" she sang out.
Staring at her for a moment, Felix turned to face, yes, the stage, and slumped down in his folding chair, rubbing his side. Maybe a kidnapping would have been better.
Waking Up
Fandom: Orphan Black
Words: 309
Felix felt himself rise into consciousness, and in that sudden response that stress chemicals can stimulate, his brain raced over a myriad of thoughts and reactions in mere seconds….as it had many times in his life when he awoke in an unfamiliar place and time.
First, physical.
Eyes closed, keep ‘em closed. Check.
Sitting straight up-in a chair, then. Check. (Not passed out in some hook-ups bed, okay.)
Arms pinned to sides, uh-oh.
No physical pain, good. No hangover, good.
Next, what/where.
Given life of late, could be anything. Thanks to Sarah’s shenanigans, he had in the last few months been held at gunpoint, almost kidnapped, almost arrested, arrested, punched, and held at gunpoint again. This…could be anything. The no pain thing was good, though.
Gradually-though actually only over another few seconds-he let his senses come back on line. Eyes still closed, shamming unconsciousness in case that bought him some time. Smell-dusty, even chalk dusty. Sound coming in over the stress-induced roaring in his ears: lot of voices, muttering, murmuring, even shouting. Not alone in a dungeon then. In a public or semi-public place.
Sigh. Even as he was determining to bite the bullet-hopefully not literally ha-ha-open his eyes and see what kind of effed-up situation he was in this time…a sharp jab in his ribs made him yell “OW!” and glare to his right, where Alison was hissing at him, “For god’s sake, Felix, you were snoring! Wake up! The talent show is about to begin!” Shaking her finger at him, she composed herself and looked forward with a big, even slightly manic, smile on her face. "Let's go, Gemma, come on Oscar!" she sang out.
Staring at her for a moment, Felix turned to face, yes, the stage, and slumped down in his folding chair, rubbing his side. Maybe a kidnapping would have been better.