(no subject)
There's thick breathing in a thicket and Sam Tyler is on the case. Sam closes his eyes as his hands pass the barks of thin trees, drifting through the forest slowly, like the landscapes of his dreams have settled with certainty over his head.
He'd heard something out here. Somewhere out here, there's someone. Maybe Vic's gotten here, maybe he's on the Island, maybe Sam can try and talk him through the whole thing and figure out just what went wrong and why he left them? He needs to know. There's flashes of red in his memory and he sees flashes in the woods, pushing trees aside, the snaps too loud in his ears.
"Hello?" Sam calls out. "Hello, is anyone here?"
He doesn't know why, but he knows he ought to be ought there. The radio that morning had been from Hyde, some man he didn't know telling Sam that he was doing a good job and if he continued to fight, to pursue the mission, then he could come home.
'Come home'. It's a funny fantasy, that, but Sam's clinging to it like a baby to a blanket. He keeps traversing the woods, though there's no buckle on his shoes and he's not chasing down a vision in red. Just a ghost of a person who may or may not be out there.
He stops, though, when he hears a sound. Almost like footsteps. It can't be his own, not that far away, because he's been quiet, he's been careful. He's been following the steps and being by the book about this mad dash of a goose chase.
Where are you?, his childhood self whispers in his memory, taking him away from Earth. Where are you?
He'd heard something out here. Somewhere out here, there's someone. Maybe Vic's gotten here, maybe he's on the Island, maybe Sam can try and talk him through the whole thing and figure out just what went wrong and why he left them? He needs to know. There's flashes of red in his memory and he sees flashes in the woods, pushing trees aside, the snaps too loud in his ears.
"Hello?" Sam calls out. "Hello, is anyone here?"
He doesn't know why, but he knows he ought to be ought there. The radio that morning had been from Hyde, some man he didn't know telling Sam that he was doing a good job and if he continued to fight, to pursue the mission, then he could come home.
'Come home'. It's a funny fantasy, that, but Sam's clinging to it like a baby to a blanket. He keeps traversing the woods, though there's no buckle on his shoes and he's not chasing down a vision in red. Just a ghost of a person who may or may not be out there.
He stops, though, when he hears a sound. Almost like footsteps. It can't be his own, not that far away, because he's been quiet, he's been careful. He's been following the steps and being by the book about this mad dash of a goose chase.
Where are you?, his childhood self whispers in his memory, taking him away from Earth. Where are you?