myhandslipped: (w h a t)
FN-2003 ([personal profile] myhandslipped) wrote in [community profile] albinomilksnake 2016-01-17 05:57 am (UTC)

[With the bright white, there's a ringing in his ears that starts low but slowly gets more shrill the louder it gets. 2187's voice is fuzz behind it, and all shadows in his vision are blobs of yellow and orange light. It's hot and hard to breathe, for a moment he believes he's just fallen into the surface of a sun - wonders if this is what death is like.

And then it's all darkness, and the weight of his head sinks into the hand cradling his jaw.

From there, it feels like an eternity. It's like his brain had orders from the Captain to show his every mistake in fine detail, to highlight everything that was wrong with him, to make it clear that he was bringing down his team and either he'd fall behind and die or he'd drag them down to die with him.

And he didn't want that to happen. He wanted this nightmare to end, he'd learned his lesson - he'd be better. Take training seriously. Become the stormtrooper the First Order wanted him to be, NEEDED him to be.

In the waking world, Slip was only unconscious for about half a minute before he snaps back awake, hyperventilating. Everything comes back down from white and burning yellow to the sterile construction that surrounded them, only intruded upon by the bunks in the room. One hand grips the bed dressings underneath him, the other flails desperate and wild to find somewhere to rest that's secure on his - friend is the first word that comes to mind and that's WRONG that's not how stormtroopers are supposed to thing - leader.

Now, more than ever, he needs the support. But he also feels now more than ever that he needs to be able to fix what's wrong with him alone, and it's so hard to figure out which is the right thing to choose.]

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