(no subject)
Krauser got the stare three days ago.
The part where people died was the strongest. The part where he did what he had to--well. He didn't have so many missions after he left the US where he needed to acquire information. Usually it was "destroy this target" or "sabotage this piece of equipment and escape undetected."
There were a few times when he had to ask questions, make sacrifices of lives--it would be hard to call these kinds innocent, but there was one janitor who had a very unfortunate habit of being observant. A few people who'd just been in the wrong place and had to go.
Incidents like those were the second day. But by then they're trying to break apart--Elrond's work in undoing it, most likely--and the whole thing's getting like a dream: hard to remember, each incident just battering itself against him like a ghost and breaking apart as he holds on.
So the voices lead him out on day three. With no other senses available besides touch, and nothing moving in the infirmary, the plaga listens and it's more awake than he is. The babble and clink of the bar is a soothing sound, like a brook. He becomes more and more aware of it, less aware of the suffering that's been beseiging him.
But when the moment comes that he's actually conscious, he's already striking out. He hits empty air, and it finishes jolting him awake.
He's in--he looks around, glaring at the light. He's never been here before. It sounds normal outside. He settles back again and lies still, barely breathing, for a few hours.
What he's thinking, it would be impossible to tell.
But then he's up--he's always back up; he's had his chest wall broken open twice in a few hours and gotten up both times--and stretching. His room, first, for a shower and a check to see if he's got another knife.
(The loss of the knife is a surprising ache. More for the symbol than anything else--his team--)
And then the bar.
He's got some questions.
The part where people died was the strongest. The part where he did what he had to--well. He didn't have so many missions after he left the US where he needed to acquire information. Usually it was "destroy this target" or "sabotage this piece of equipment and escape undetected."
There were a few times when he had to ask questions, make sacrifices of lives--it would be hard to call these kinds innocent, but there was one janitor who had a very unfortunate habit of being observant. A few people who'd just been in the wrong place and had to go.
Incidents like those were the second day. But by then they're trying to break apart--Elrond's work in undoing it, most likely--and the whole thing's getting like a dream: hard to remember, each incident just battering itself against him like a ghost and breaking apart as he holds on.
So the voices lead him out on day three. With no other senses available besides touch, and nothing moving in the infirmary, the plaga listens and it's more awake than he is. The babble and clink of the bar is a soothing sound, like a brook. He becomes more and more aware of it, less aware of the suffering that's been beseiging him.
But when the moment comes that he's actually conscious, he's already striking out. He hits empty air, and it finishes jolting him awake.
He's in--he looks around, glaring at the light. He's never been here before. It sounds normal outside. He settles back again and lies still, barely breathing, for a few hours.
What he's thinking, it would be impossible to tell.
But then he's up--he's always back up; he's had his chest wall broken open twice in a few hours and gotten up both times--and stretching. His room, first, for a shower and a check to see if he's got another knife.
(The loss of the knife is a surprising ache. More for the symbol than anything else--his team--)
And then the bar.
He's got some questions.