RPS AU The Plague Boys - Prologue

2007-09-17T02:04:07Z

The Plague Boys
by psychotic_scam @ off_key_harmony
Chapter: A Prologue of Sorts [1/?]
Wordcount: 721

Characters: (They go by chapter and who'll be in it) Jared Padalecki, Jensen Ackles

Warnings: (This chapter is the light stuff. It'll progress as the story does) Angst. Implied drowning.

Rating: PG this chapter.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. The names I associate some characters with are intended for nothing more than sick entertainment. I don't own anything mentioned in this story, nor do I own the J boys or Plague Dogs.

Summary: Loosely based of The Plague Dogs by Richard Adams, which was developed into a movie after the book. It may be a little different, since this is the humanized version.

Inspiration: This movie and this song.

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The water rippled above him like dark, blended blue clouds, shivering in barely noticeable waves and accentuated with small air bubbles that he desperately needed but couldn’t keep down. Shadows on the side of the wall danced in reflection from the surface, dark lines that taunted and scared him in a way he never felt before, even after the numerous encounters he had down here, deep within the tank.

It burns.

Oh, how it burns.

It’s a violent, clenching burn that forces a grip all too tight around his lungs. It refuses to let him go. His lungs; they feel as though they’re suffering a seizure and there’s absolutely no recover opportunity. They can’t get anything in but water. Something he thinks he used to enjoy, but he can’t bring himself to remember. Not now.

Not when he’s in vainly trying to fight against the still water. To propel himself topside and breathe in air that won’t kill him. Oxygen that he needs more then the oxygen in the water surrounding, blinding, choking him.

Teeth clenched and determination burned just as hard as the burn in his lungs, he mustered up the adrenaline he had felt dawdling within. It seemed to take forever, the slow rise, before he catches a glimpse of pale lighted, horrid faces and he broke through the waters surface like glass, a cry ripping from his lips, whipping his hair from his face as he gasped in air that tasted as sweet as honey at that point. He dipped once, but managed to get himself back above the waters skin.

He couldn’t afford to go back under.

His lungs expanded against his chest, but his ribs wouldn’t expand with them and he could only take in short bursts of the gas. He felt helpless there, dog paddling to keep himself afloat.

What’s worse is that they just watch him. Watch like it’s a tele-something, he can’t recall, but just watch.

Damn white coats. That’s what they’re called around here. White coats. Pale and always just watching, with those stupid boards supported under their arms, occasionally doing something to it that tears their gaze away for the briefest moments. They never help when he called for it. They give him a dark glare and continue on what they’re doing, never giving any heed to pay attention for too long.

Water parted in front of his lips as he breathed and gurgled against it, trying his mightiest to stay above it. His heart pumped just as hard as his legs as he waded the water, moving to try and edge himself closer to the side of the tank; try and find a spot to hoist himself from this horrible, sickening thing. He couldn’t get any register if he tried; it always shocked his body.

He coughed against water sliding down his throat and into his stomach. Violent hacks that racked his body, blend his vision and make him swoon to the point where he can’t tell reality to dreams. He’s sick to his stomach, but he can’t find the energy to vomit.

The waters so close now. It’s a gentle dance against his naked body, his genitals beyond feeling and he’s not quite sure where the feeling in his arms wandered off to. Everything in his ears are like white-noise; all but the increasingly slow beating of his heart

Where’d the fog come from?

It creeped into his vision when he wasn't expecting it, dusting off his sight and before he knew it, air is the last of his concern when he’s sunken again, hands failing to grasp onto something that could support him. He can’t find the will in himself to fight against the invisible hands pulling him down deeper into the too cool liquid. It’s a fight he knows he can’t win, and he stops trying.

It feels like seconds when he’s not trying. It’s a quick pull, his body bending and lurching to a ridiculous form. To sink with the heaviest weight on his body.

He’s staring into the cold-hearted eyes of the white coats as he goes down, his body shifting with the gentle lacerated waves. He can’t help but think, as he hits the hard bottom of the tank, the one thing no one dares to say aloud in this place.

Fucking White Coats.

TBC.

In Junkyard Society

RPS AU The Plague Boys - Prologue