Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of Kudos and BBC. The original characters and plot are the property of the author of this story. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any previously copyrighted material. No copyright infringement is intended.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is very dark and may be disturbing to some readers. For those familiar with Spooks/MI5 (I understand some readers haven't seen the series), there is a scene that takes place as a recollection in Season 8, episode 4.
From the corner of the room, Lucas heard the constant dripping of water, a leaky faucet somewhere in the darkness. He was alone. And as he struggled to wake up, his body screaming from pain, he realized that he was bound to a chair, his shoulders held back tightly. He grimaced, the sound of his groans slicing through the silence only broken by the water drops onto the floor.
His eyes adjusted to the darkness, a feeling slowly coming to him. Something so familiar. His skin prickled. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
He swallowed, aware that his mouth was dry. Slowly, the shallow breaths came as panic slowly crept through his very being. He knew this place, he thought, though physically he’d never been here before. But he knew of the sense of the place. For he’d been there many times before, too many to count now.
The memories shattered through the barriers of his consciousness, fragments that splintered before his mind’s eye. As Lucas struggled to regain a sense of himself, some form of control, the first thing he saw then was the memory of the white Range Rover barreling into the car.
He remembered reaching his arm out as if to protect Alexa beside him, knowing it was useless to do so. The Lexus careened out of control and Lucas fought to regain hold of the steering wheel, gripping it as tightly as he could even as he felt the car skid across the narrow street and slam against something hard. The sound of twisting metal, its horrible crunching noises filled his ears, and suddenly everything turned white.
The air bags, he thought. They had deployed.
And then silence.
But another sound came to his ears, and this time Lucas bolted upright on the chair, searching the darkness for its source. Mummy, it said. A child’s voice. Mummy, wake up.
Every muscle in his body tensed. Alexa and Liam were in another room. He waited for another voice to answer, praying that she would say something as Liam’s voice, faint through the walls, returned.
“Mummy, wake up.”
But there was silence.
Lucas began to breathe rapidly again, puffs of steam coming from his mouth as he fought hard to control himself from slipping into his past again, telling himself he was alright. He could not return there, he thought. He could not allow himself to be back there, not now when he needed to be present. Not now.
But the memory returned anyway, too fast for Lucas to stop it. It was as vivid as the day it had happened. And within seconds, he was back there.
It was another world, another hell, where he wanted nothing more than to die but even death did not want him at all.
His screams reverberated throughout the room, its white tiles now darkened with grime and age. The flashes of light inside his head brought about by the pain, the burning that begun deep within as the electricity coursed through his body made him cry out for death again and again, sobbing like a child.
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