Leslie
Super Fantastisch
Warning: Spoilers from the Season 4 finale
Rating: PG
Summary: Basically stream of consciousness. What happens after the crash.
One eye peels open, lashes dusty. She blinks. Sneezes. Cries out, a searing pain tearing through her chest. Tears ooze from under her closed eyelid. Through the haze of heat lines and a massive jagged crack in the windshield she manages to make out a sign.
Santa Barbara
Memories singe her.
She allows herself to cough, though the pain is excruciating. Tries to move a leg. Success. The other? Yes. She blesses the seatbelt silently, and tries her arms. Both intact. Incredible.
She moves her head, her neck in agony, to see if the driver is still in his seat.
He is.
She reaches out and touches a finger to the streak of blood that runs from his forehead down his neck, staining his shirt. She stretches her body further out of the seat so that she can take a pulse. There is one. Faint, but there. She sits back in the seat, unsure of what to do.
The silence drones on; the minutes crawl by.
A hand slaps against the passenger-side window, shocking Sydney out of her seat. With her eyes she can trace the lines on the palm that seems to be bearing down on her, though it does not touch her.
She has a decision to make, right now, right here.
Speak?
Does she still even have a voice?
She tries it out.
“Hello.”
It’s not a plea, or a whimper. It’s not a question. It’s not an exclamation. It simply is.
“Hello.”
There is silence. The palm is gone. Sydney can’t remember when it disappeared. The sand that swirls in the air is clogging her nostrils, stopping her breath, making her forget things. She coughs again.
Oh, it hurts.
Her eyes close again.
Suddenly, she is fully awake. She struggles with the seatbelt. Get off me, get off me, come undone...
She wins. She reaches out once more toward the man at the wheel, thrusting two fingers toward his jugular.
Gone. The breath whistles rapidly out through her lips. Just like that.
It takes her a moment, and then her mind is again on the comfort of the seat and the fact that she doesn’t want to move. Just stay here.
She wonders vaguely – why? – before her eyes close one more time with the heaviness of a sleep like death.
Just a note: the guy who she sees before she passes out? I have no idea who he is. He's part of the mystery. lol Notice how I avoided answering any questions in this?
Rating: PG
Summary: Basically stream of consciousness. What happens after the crash.
~*~
One eye peels open, lashes dusty. She blinks. Sneezes. Cries out, a searing pain tearing through her chest. Tears ooze from under her closed eyelid. Through the haze of heat lines and a massive jagged crack in the windshield she manages to make out a sign.
Santa Barbara
Memories singe her.
She allows herself to cough, though the pain is excruciating. Tries to move a leg. Success. The other? Yes. She blesses the seatbelt silently, and tries her arms. Both intact. Incredible.
She moves her head, her neck in agony, to see if the driver is still in his seat.
He is.
She reaches out and touches a finger to the streak of blood that runs from his forehead down his neck, staining his shirt. She stretches her body further out of the seat so that she can take a pulse. There is one. Faint, but there. She sits back in the seat, unsure of what to do.
The silence drones on; the minutes crawl by.
A hand slaps against the passenger-side window, shocking Sydney out of her seat. With her eyes she can trace the lines on the palm that seems to be bearing down on her, though it does not touch her.
She has a decision to make, right now, right here.
Speak?
Does she still even have a voice?
She tries it out.
“Hello.”
It’s not a plea, or a whimper. It’s not a question. It’s not an exclamation. It simply is.
“Hello.”
There is silence. The palm is gone. Sydney can’t remember when it disappeared. The sand that swirls in the air is clogging her nostrils, stopping her breath, making her forget things. She coughs again.
Oh, it hurts.
Her eyes close again.
Suddenly, she is fully awake. She struggles with the seatbelt. Get off me, get off me, come undone...
She wins. She reaches out once more toward the man at the wheel, thrusting two fingers toward his jugular.
Gone. The breath whistles rapidly out through her lips. Just like that.
It takes her a moment, and then her mind is again on the comfort of the seat and the fact that she doesn’t want to move. Just stay here.
She wonders vaguely – why? – before her eyes close one more time with the heaviness of a sleep like death.
~*~
Just a note: the guy who she sees before she passes out? I have no idea who he is. He's part of the mystery. lol Notice how I avoided answering any questions in this?