Paralysis

There are few things on Earth that could keep Samuel Drake down and he was proud to say that a handful of bullets wasn't on that list.

But this? This was the last thing he expected to knock him down for the count.

How it spread or how it even got here to begin with was a bit of a mystery. The running theory was a guard was a carrying it and while he was beating a prisoner (the usual), he decided to spit on him for good measure.

Good measure indeed.

It ran rampant from there; one turned to three, three turned to ten, and quickly turned to twenty and beyond. Since this was a picture perfect environment, it spread like wildfire. And because health care isn't exactly up to code, it claimed two lives and was dangerously close to claiming more.

Sam thought highly of his immune system. He could count on one hand how many times he's been sick in his lifetime. Back then, as Nate's primary caretaker, getting sick was NOT an option and his body seemed to be in tune with that notion. Even during the most grave breakouts, Sam's health would usually remain steadfast, at worst a cough here and a sniffle there. So when the flu was at his doorstep, Sam simply said, bring it on.

Needless to say, he regrets eagerly accepting that challenge.

It was day three (probably) into his sickness and Sam couldn't recall a moment where he ever felt this terrible. Nicotine withdrawal didn't hold a candle to this. He would even gladly take being shot all over again than enduring this. While he survived the last one, getting shot in the right spot would at least grant him quick relief and eternal sleep. Right now, he couldn't take the temptation that was the sweet release of death over him any longer.

Then again, it could just be the fever talking.

Sam laid in bed in his cell, almost curled up in a ball. He was shivering despite feeling like his body was on fire. His body ached and his head throbbed, with it, the distinct worry that it was going to split in two if it somehow got impossibly worse. His stomach churned endlessly despite not having anything of worth in there. Due to his sore throat, food was even more unappealing than usual. Anything he ate or drank wound up coming back up later and that irritated his throat beyond reason. Sam threw up so much, he wondered if his body was reacting to his poor food decisions from years ago.

Fine then, Sam acquiesced, maybe burritos from that shady food stand at 4am wasn't such a good idea after all.

Even though he came to peace with that fact, Sam remained fully submerged in his misery.

~UF~FC~

Sam was brought out of his restless slumber by the sound of his cell door opening. It was opened with some deliberation to keep the sound as minimal as possible and it was closed with a barely audible clink. Sam appreciated that, but the sound was still nails on a chalkboard for him, enough to coax a whimper out of him.

Death, is that you finally? Get me outta here...

Sam heard the footsteps approaching and then felt his bed dip slightly. "I know Samuel." A voice whispered. His mind, even in its foggy state, recognized the voice; it was familiar, friendly.

Sam opened his mouth to speak but was softly shushed and felt a comforting cold hand rub his head.

"No need for words, hermano. Save your strength."

Hermano...brother...

Sam opened his eyes to get a better look at the figure. His vision was blurry.

"Na...than...?" Sam croaked out. His throat was as dry as a desert, he wouldn't be surprised if a puff of sand came out of his mouth.

Montenegro was slightly taken aback but realized that the high fever was likely messing with his mind. No need to get angry, for now. "If you want it to be, then sure."

"Now since you're the only one here I give a shit about, I got you some goodies. You should be grateful, I was going to keep this for myself just in case I got infected with this fucking disease too."

Sam coughed.

"I couldn't get a hold of the name brand stuff you're probably familiar with, but thankfully Hoyt has good connections. I tested this for myself and thankfully the side effects are minimal. But you're probably going to be tripping balls, Samuel. Are you prepared for that?"

"Whatever you say, little brother..."

How bad could it possibly be, bring...it...on...

Montenegro nodded and reached into the bag he had smuggled in and pulled out two medicine bottles and a bottle of water. He shook out two pills from one bottle and one pill from the second. He stood up and bent over, hooking his arms under Sam's armpits in order to get him to sit up straight.

"I need to stop feeding you, you're getting too fucking heavy." Montenegro remarked. He moved Sam to lean against the wall. "Now open up and stuck your tongue out."

Sam vaguely heard the request and opened his mouth. Montenegro placed three pills on his tongue and instructed him to put his tongue back in. He then opened the water bottle and supported Sam's head as he drank it.

Though he was probably going to regret it one way or another later, Sam downed the bottle of water, the coolness soothing and aggravating his dry, irritated throat.

Once the bottle was empty, Montenegro tossed it aside and helped Sam lay back down. "Good, now sleep. I'll check on you in a bit. Good luck, Samuel."

"Thanks...Nathan..."

Montenegro chuckled. "Anytime, hermano."

Sam could already feel himself fading away.

~UF~FC~

I really need to stop saying "bring it on" don't I?

His dreams, if he could even call them that, were all over the place.

His first one was scary enough. He had switched places with his brother. Instead of Sam being the one being shot, Nate had been in his place. Sam's ultimate nightmare was anything happening to his little brother. Sure Sam himself was still alive in prison, almost five years after that event, but the possibility of death still loomed near. Nate didn't exactly leave friends behind in this place.

Please god no...

Sam's eyes flew open as he woke up, his heart threatening to jump out of his chest.

Or so he thought.

~UC~FC~

Sam couldn't move. His mind was awake, frantically sending commands, but his body was asleep, unable to answer. He wasn't even sure he was breathing. Though it happened rarely, he hated when he had these episodes. He hoped it wouldn't be too bad this time.

He heard his cell door opening, probably just Montenegro coming to check on him.

But the person who entered the cell wasn't Montenegro, quite possibly the furthest thing from him. It was a woman. She wasn't dressed in a prison uniform, so she wasn't a guard. Her uniform consisted of a midriff shirt and a short mini skirt with no shoes. She looked familiar...

He thought back to a conversation he had with Montenegro. His sister, Citra, had come up again as a topic of conversation again.

"You want to see what she looks like?" Montenegro didn't wait for answer and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a polaroid and handed it to Sam. He took it and looked at it, studying the image.

They looked similar enough, even down to the hairstyle. She dressed a little more provocatively than most girls her age would.

"Hot piece of ass, huh?"

Sam shrugged his shoulders. "I guess. But from what you tell me, she'd probably eat me alive. In more ways than one of course."

Montenegro laughed loudly. "This is why I like you Samuel. You make me laugh. Everything's gotta be so serious here. You're my breath of fresh air."

So why was she here now? How was she here now?

"You've met my brother. He's the only one who'd do this to you."

"Do what?"

Sam thought it but his mouth didn't pick up and follow through. Aw hell, that's right. He can't talk when this happens too.

"Just lovely."

"He's probably painted me as some monster, hasn't he?" Citra said, walking closer to Sam.

"She probably IS a monster..."

"You have to believe me! I didn't tell him to do anything! He's the one who killed those people, he made the decision! He didn't need to do that for me, he had already won my heart."

"Damn that accent..."

"I thought he was the one...but he failed me. He had so much potential...but he disappointed me."

Citra made direct eye contact with him and the chill that went through Sam's body was enough to break his body free of this twisted reverie. He immediately sat up, moving to sit at the edge of the bed.

"But another man has my attention now. And he is twice the man my brother could ever be."

But even though, he remained entranced, hypnotized by Citra's words.

Citra walked close to him, until she was standing directly in front of him. "You, Samuel. You are strong...powerful. These hands are stained with blood..." She took one of his hands and cupped it against her own cheek, almost lovingly.

"You live for the fight and every man you have killed deserved to die by your hand." She moved forward, straddling him and wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. She leaned forward to his ear and whispered, "Do you know what you are, Samuel?"

"Tell me what I am."

She kissed his neck then bit it roughly, blood had definitely been drawn. "You are a warrior Samuel." She continued with her ministrations. Sam wrapped his arms around her waist, only now realizing that she was topless, her chest eloquently painted with simple yet intricate patterns.

Before he closed his eyes in complete ecstasy, Sam caught a glimpse of a lifeless body that sat against the wall with a pool of blood underneath it. The body had a knife protruding from its chest. Sam could see that its eyes were still open, though lifeless.

Then that body became familiar. The prison uniform, that hairstyle, those eyes. Those deranged, tranquil eyes.

Sam was certain there were a million and one things wrong with this scenario, but he felt too good to care.

Then those familiar, dull, angelically devilish eyes, darted right at Sam.

~UF~FC~

Sam woke up with a start. When he felt cold concrete against his back and legs, he realized that he wasn't in his bed but on the floor, sitting against the wall.

"How did I end up here?" Sam asked to himself.

A groan caught his attention and he looked around. He saw Nathan also sitting against the wall, knees drawn up, his head down, resting on his arms.

"Nathan?" Sam scrambled over to him. "Are you okay?"

Nathan didn't respond, didn't even lift his head.

"What's wrong, are you hurt? Wh-"

"That was a rough gamble, Nathan."

Sam turned his head and saw Montenegro standing outside the cell, looking in with a gaze of amusement mixed with pity.

Déjà vu...

"Vamanos, Nathan. I can get you more cigarettes."

But Nathan doesn't smoke...

Then it hit Sam. "Oh no." He muttered. "Nathan, don't!"

But when Sam blinked, Nate was already in handcuffs, being led down the hall.

Sam followed the pair, trying in vain to speak to Nate; telling him to somehow fight back against this. When that failed, he then directed his efforts to Montenegro, pleading with him to stop. But that didn't fare any better. He followed them into the room and leaned against the wall.

"Okay, okay. It'll just be like last time. He doesn't load the gun, they're both laughing about it then he'll treat his newly onset hypertension with some cigarettes. Everyone goes home alive and safe."

Sam watched the scene unfold, just as he remembered it, waiting with baited breathe as each agonizing soft click went by.

"So now. Tell me Nathan, will you take the option of choice...or leave it all up to chance?"

Sam watched as Nathan grabbed the gun, got up and walked to Montenegro, pointing the gun at him.

Sam closed his eyes, waiting to hear the resulting click. But what filled the air of the room was a loud bang. He immediately opened his eyes to see Montenegro's body hit the ground.

Nathan's face was expressionless as he dropped the smoking gun on the table. After a few seconds, he turned and made his way to the door.

Movement out of the corner of his eye caught Sam's attention and saw that Montenegro was now standing up, perfectly fine, not a spot of blood on his chest.

The hell...?

"Peek-a-boo motherfucker." Montenegro pulled out a gun and pointed it at Nate's head.

He had another gun?!

"Nathan!" Sam yelled out.

Having apparently heard Sam's warning, Nate turned around but it was too late. Montenegro had pulled the trigger and the bullet went right into Nate's skull. A quick, merciful death.

Sam's legs buckled before he fell to his knees. He stared into Nate's eyes which were darkening as the life literally bled out of him.

"Oh! You showed so much promise, Nathan. So much fucking promise! Here you are, trapped in the boxes of life like a fucking rat. And the thing is, I did not bring you here. You walked in here by your own goddamn self! A real fucking shame, truly. This how the great Drake legacy ends."

Montenegro reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out an object..and Sam couldn't believe it.

It was Nate's lighter, his lighter and embedded into it was the bullet from earlier.

Montenegro tossed it in the air and caught it. He shook his head and looked at Nate's body.

"By the way, this lighter fucking sucks."

Sam screamed.

~UF~FC~

Sam opened his eyes. He was back home again. In his cell.

And once again, he couldn't move. God damn sleep paralysis.

He surveyed his surroundings. So far, everything looked fine, nothing was out of place.

"Ah, you're awake." Montenegro said, making his way to Sam. "I was a bit worried I gave you too big a dosage. Maybe that extra pill wasn't needed. If it weren't for your muttering, people might have thought the flu killed you too."

Sam, just like before, couldn't talk. And because of what happened before, he wasn't sure if he was even in the right universe.

"What's the matter?"Montenegro asked, leaning forward, looking into Sam's eyes.

Sam knew how this went. Demons, aliens, the corpse of Henry Avery, he was waiting for the jump that would force feeling back to his body. He was expecting Montenegro's face to start melting or some other ridiculous nonsense.

"Samuel, talk to me!"

Or maybe he was in the right universe. Sam blinked repeatedly in an attempt to communicate.

S-O-S

S-I-C-P-A-R-V-I-S-M-A-G-N-A

"What the fuck is going on with you? Talk to me!"

Crap. Montenegro wasn't versed in Morse code. If Montenegro was getting angry at him, Sam may truly be screwed here. Years of work would quickly be unraveled right this moment. Sam squeezed his eyes shut and hoped, prayed, that something, anything would move.

Finally, after a minute of internal struggle, something gave. He was able to move his toes, one by one. Then he felt able to move everything else; his arms, his legs, his head, everything was coming back.

Though he had been breathing fine this whole time, Sam couldn't help but gasp for air and quickly sit up, his head narrowly missing a collision with Montenegro's. He placed a hand over his chest, right over his heart. His heart was beating at what was certainly a dangerous rate and he had a lot of trouble breathing, practically on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Fuck, Samuel! What is going on with you?" Much to Sam's surprise, Montenegro's voice was dripping with concern and slight panic, not the anger he was expecting.

"I don't...I can't." Sam panted, shaking his head. He felt safe to assume, that whatever Montenegro gave him actually and briefly killed him and he spent however long he was dead in hell. There was no way all of that was a dream.

"Easy, amigo. Just take it easy. Here," Montenegro opened up a water bottle he had been carrying and guided it to Sam's mouth. "Here, drink this. You need fluids in your system."

Sam grabbed the bottle and took a few experimental sips before he deemed it safe and promptly chugged it down.

"Fucking hell, Samuel. Getting water like that isn't easy. Learn to conserve!"

Sam chuckled and shook his head. Always the comedian.

After a few more minutes, his heart rate was finally calming down and had proper control of his breathing.

"Are you alright now?"

"I think so." Sam cautiously responded. He looked around his cell. Everything looked normal. The guard hasn't melted or transformed into some grotesque thing and there were no devious shadows lurking around, or Citra for that matter.

"What's with the paranoia, Samuel?"

Sam shook his head. After everything he's seen and been through, he wasn't exactly sure he was back in reality. His reality.

"How do I know this isn't another dream or whatever?" Sam asked.

"Come again?"

"You said that medicine was going to make me trip balls. Well, I need to know if I'm still tripping, so to speak."

Montenegro nodded, finally understanding. "I can help with that. Lay back."

Sam stared skeptically at him but followed the instruction. Montenegro moved to straddle him, sitting on Sam's stomach.

"What are you-"

Montenegro placed a finger on Sam's lips, silencing him. "Your world is on a diagonal, let me be your balancing point."

He smiled warmly and Sam couldn't be any more frightened by the sight. This has to be another dream...he's really Citra! Has to be...

Then next thing Sam knew, he had hands wrapped tightly around his neck. He fought back as best he could but because Montenegro had straddled him, it prevented any significant movement. He fought valiantly but his strength was quickly diminishing. Spots danced in his vision then the edges started to darken. Before he was completely out, the grip on his neck was immediately loosened. And for the second time today, a new record, Sam was once again gasping and coughing for breath and life.

"What was that for?!" Sam exclaimed, rubbing his neck.

"You can't die in your dreams, amigo. Had this been a dream, you would have woken up, no?"

Sam gaped then sighed. "Fair enough, I guess."

Montenegro shrugged and smiled. "The good news is your fever has broken considerably and most, if not all, of that medication has left your system. You're out of the woods now, just a little more sleep should do you fine."

Sam exhaled a sigh of relief. If he was getting better, he wouldn't need another dosage of whatever that concoction was.

Though there was still something that bothered him. Something that remained at the forefront of his mind that he even remembered it almost instantly upon waking up.

"Wait, before you go. I need to ask you something."

Montenegro stopped and turned around. "Yes?

"Nathan...he was never here, was he?" Sam asked tentatively.

"Unfortunately not, Samuel. You weren't exactly coherent when I gave you the medicine last night. Whatever odd thing you heard or said was likely due to your high fever."

Nah, it can't be that simple. It never is. Sam couldn't hold back the smile that took over his face. "Well I remember someone calling me brother. If it wasn't Nathan, then...you?"

"You're sick, Samuel. Get some sleep." Montenegro responded angrily. He roughly opened the cell door, slammed it shut and left.

Sam chuckled to himself. "Whatever you say...hermano."

I had this story completely written out and queued up, but this chapter in particular wasn't written out before hand. Including this one, I have added two more chapters, so now I have this story capped at 12 instead of the initial 10. The joys of writing fan fiction XD

Suspension of disbelief: I know you don't usually or can't dream when you take some form of sleeping medication so I hope you can forgive me here :3

I hope you're all enjoying this story. Thanks for taking the time to read and please leave a review =)