Chapter 4 - The Fallen
By The Wandering Englishman
He sat there now, accepting the emptiness around him. If he remained unblinking long enough, the world would blacken, making the room look gray.
"How long has he been like this, Doctor?" Asked the angelic voice, seemingly from everywhere; making the small man jump from the cushioned bed. Blue eyes searched the baron room for signs of the voice; the eyes moving hastily from one corner to the next, making sure to feel every particle of air in the cell.
"Four hours, Sir. He’s conscious, but in a vegetative state…" The woman’s voice echoed through his mind.
Colors flickered just outside his view, causing the brunette to stir. Glimpses of green and metallic blues, solid whites and skin tones…
"…Good gods, Sir…he moved…" The startled woman’s voice called.
"Move him, and report anything he says or does."
Turning his head, the blue-grey eyes tried to focus on the colour, trying vainly to see through the rips in the world around him. Catching glimpses of people, places and objects that seemed so familiar, but at the same time in his mind, intangible.
Voices seemed to swirl in his mind as the world around him turned. Unsure of his footing, he fell sideways, bracing himself for the sudden stop of the cold ground. Closing his eyes, he let himself fall, only to stop part way, held up by a warm force.
"Hey, easy there. You Okay, Squall?" Gods, no, not that voice. The voice of every dream the brunette had…and every nightmare; the one that could bring pleasure and pain at the drop of a hat.
…But wait. Had he just used a name? Squall?
The youth opened his eyes, surprised to see green leaves and hear the sound of running water close to his ears. He looked up at the face that was now hovering above his own. The clear green eyes seemed to burn deep into his, but the face remained blurred.
"Where am I?" The leather clad youth asked, afraid that he already knew the answer.
"Squall…?" The man asked again, concern glazing over the emerald eyes. "You don’t look too hot, maybe we should get you to your room?
His room…they were going to take him back to the cell. His home. The young man struggled in the greying mans grip, as if afraid for his life.
"Squall, it’s alright…you’re in garden. Remember? You’re the commander here." The teeth shone in the sunlight, but didn’t make the boy any less fearful.
Hoisting him to his feet, the older man draped an arm from his companion over his shoulder and helped him towards the dormitories. The thing they had all feared had come to pass, and the president had a lot of explaining to do.
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