Fanfic: Snapshots Through Time Part 1 (master post)
Snapshots Through Time
Author: kathiann
Artist: ruuger and agent_era
Link to art: ruuger and agent_ear (coming soon)
Word Count: ~5500
Rating: T
Summary: Snapshots of Cho's life, from the army to the CBI and points in between. Warnings for talks of mental illness (PTSD)
Disclaimer: Not mine
Notes: Written for the mentalist_bb. Special thanks to little_firestar for the beta and ruuger and agent_era for the art.
Snapshots Through Time
Time
Cho didn’t know where he was, nor how much time had passed. He’d heard horror stories from other soldiers, ones who had been on more than one tour. If you got lost in the desert, you never came back. He’d managed to avoid being target practice for the enemy snipers, but that was of little comfort. He didn’t know how long he was going to survive.
Sun
The sun was hot. It burned his skin like nothing he had ever experienced. He allowed himself to think of his life back home, if only for a brief moment. When he was a young boy, maybe nine or ten, his mother had taken him to the community pool. It was outdoors and he had never been swimming before. He didn’t know that such a thing as sunscreen was needed, nor had he even known that it was possible to get a sunburn. The reflection of the sun off the water magnified the harmful effects and he had ended up looking like the cooked crabs that his grandmother served for dinner on special occasions. Today, under the sun and fearing for his life, he thought of that. He’d not had a burn since that day, and now he was going to get another one. Not that it mattered.
Moon
The night brought little relief. The wind whipped through the hills, blowing sand in his face. The night was cooler, but without shelter he was just as vulnerable to the cold as he had been to the heat. He looked up at the moon, wondering if there was anyone looking for him. He doubted it. He would be presumed dead. And soon enough that would be true. He thought back to his mother, his grandmother, his family. He had chosen this life to get off the streets, to improve his chance of living. And here he was, in the process of dying.
Life
He thought he was hallucinating. Trees in the desert. But no, he was not. Their shade provided much needed respite from the elements. And where there was trees there was water, even if it was muddy and thick. It provided him with enough to live. He saved the water in his canteen for he would need that later. He knew that this wasn’t a safe place to stay; water in the dessert was likely to attack unsavory characters, both of the animal and human variety. He wasn’t sure if he was in hostile or friendly land, though often there was little difference between the two. So he drank what he could, filtered with what he had in his pack, and moved on. He couldn’t stop.
Death
He came upon the buildings just as the sun was setting and he thought that he would again be dodging bullets and grenades. but these buildings were abandoned. Half covered in sand and missing their roofs. He still didn’t know where he was. He wasn’t aware of any settlements in this area. Maybe he had wandered too far in the wrong direction. His compass said that he was heading in the right direction, but there had been no note of an oasis or a settlement, even an old one, in the area he thought he was in. His radio was useless. No battery. No chance of sending a signal. Chances were that the enemy would find him first. He once again faced the prospect of his own death. And it looked very sure indeed.
Birth
He remembered attending the Christian church down the street from his apartment every Sunday with his grandmother. He didn’t want to think of her while he was hiding out in these abandoned buildings, it was too painful, but he couldn’t help it. There was one Sunday when the preacher talked about baptism and the need to be reborn. This seemed silly to him, but he had gone to the neighborhood pool and was dunked with the rest of the kids. His grandmother was happy about this. She wanted what was best for him. Now, sitting in the sand, he wished that he had paid a bit more attention in church. He could use a little saving.
Midnight
He heard the helicopter first. He ducked behind a wall even though he had the cover of darkness, still hiding in the runes that he had found. His water was running low and he was out of emergency rations. Things were even more desperate than they had been when he had escaped the gunfight all those days ago. When it passed overhead, he was shocked to see that it was American. He dashed from the alcove he’d been crouching in and tried to get their attention. He thought they were gone and he lost when they turned around and dropped a ladder. Of all the things he thought would happen in this godforsaken land, rescue was not one of them. He thought back to the church and said a little prayer, as he was speed off in the night.
part 2 and 3 part 4 and 5 part 6 and 7 part 8
Author: kathiann
Artist: ruuger and agent_era
Link to art: ruuger and agent_ear (coming soon)
Word Count: ~5500
Rating: T
Summary: Snapshots of Cho's life, from the army to the CBI and points in between. Warnings for talks of mental illness (PTSD)
Disclaimer: Not mine
Notes: Written for the mentalist_bb. Special thanks to little_firestar for the beta and ruuger and agent_era for the art.
Snapshots Through Time
Time
Cho didn’t know where he was, nor how much time had passed. He’d heard horror stories from other soldiers, ones who had been on more than one tour. If you got lost in the desert, you never came back. He’d managed to avoid being target practice for the enemy snipers, but that was of little comfort. He didn’t know how long he was going to survive.
Sun
The sun was hot. It burned his skin like nothing he had ever experienced. He allowed himself to think of his life back home, if only for a brief moment. When he was a young boy, maybe nine or ten, his mother had taken him to the community pool. It was outdoors and he had never been swimming before. He didn’t know that such a thing as sunscreen was needed, nor had he even known that it was possible to get a sunburn. The reflection of the sun off the water magnified the harmful effects and he had ended up looking like the cooked crabs that his grandmother served for dinner on special occasions. Today, under the sun and fearing for his life, he thought of that. He’d not had a burn since that day, and now he was going to get another one. Not that it mattered.
Moon
The night brought little relief. The wind whipped through the hills, blowing sand in his face. The night was cooler, but without shelter he was just as vulnerable to the cold as he had been to the heat. He looked up at the moon, wondering if there was anyone looking for him. He doubted it. He would be presumed dead. And soon enough that would be true. He thought back to his mother, his grandmother, his family. He had chosen this life to get off the streets, to improve his chance of living. And here he was, in the process of dying.
Life
He thought he was hallucinating. Trees in the desert. But no, he was not. Their shade provided much needed respite from the elements. And where there was trees there was water, even if it was muddy and thick. It provided him with enough to live. He saved the water in his canteen for he would need that later. He knew that this wasn’t a safe place to stay; water in the dessert was likely to attack unsavory characters, both of the animal and human variety. He wasn’t sure if he was in hostile or friendly land, though often there was little difference between the two. So he drank what he could, filtered with what he had in his pack, and moved on. He couldn’t stop.
Death
He came upon the buildings just as the sun was setting and he thought that he would again be dodging bullets and grenades. but these buildings were abandoned. Half covered in sand and missing their roofs. He still didn’t know where he was. He wasn’t aware of any settlements in this area. Maybe he had wandered too far in the wrong direction. His compass said that he was heading in the right direction, but there had been no note of an oasis or a settlement, even an old one, in the area he thought he was in. His radio was useless. No battery. No chance of sending a signal. Chances were that the enemy would find him first. He once again faced the prospect of his own death. And it looked very sure indeed.
Birth
He remembered attending the Christian church down the street from his apartment every Sunday with his grandmother. He didn’t want to think of her while he was hiding out in these abandoned buildings, it was too painful, but he couldn’t help it. There was one Sunday when the preacher talked about baptism and the need to be reborn. This seemed silly to him, but he had gone to the neighborhood pool and was dunked with the rest of the kids. His grandmother was happy about this. She wanted what was best for him. Now, sitting in the sand, he wished that he had paid a bit more attention in church. He could use a little saving.
Midnight
He heard the helicopter first. He ducked behind a wall even though he had the cover of darkness, still hiding in the runes that he had found. His water was running low and he was out of emergency rations. Things were even more desperate than they had been when he had escaped the gunfight all those days ago. When it passed overhead, he was shocked to see that it was American. He dashed from the alcove he’d been crouching in and tried to get their attention. He thought they were gone and he lost when they turned around and dropped a ladder. Of all the things he thought would happen in this godforsaken land, rescue was not one of them. He thought back to the church and said a little prayer, as he was speed off in the night.
part 2 and 3 part 4 and 5 part 6 and 7 part 8