Hi guys!

This is for my lovely friend, Dianrra.

After disappearing for three months, Jack can't remember anything that has happened to him - but it doesn't stop the terrifying flashes. Can Kate help him before it's too late?

He couldn't remember the last time her felt like this. Sure, he'd been afraid before but not like this. Not crippling, paralyzing fear that held his chest so tight it was hard to breathe. He couldn't move his arms or legs. He couldn't even open his eyes, he was just too weak. And it was this that made everything worse. If he could see, then maybe -just maybe he could begin to work out where he was. But he couldn't. So he was trapped. He was helpless.

His wrists were tied. He knew that at least. And was, in someways, thankful for the cuts and tears that ran across the tender skin, because it meant at he could feel something. His mouth was gagged, and a tight, course sacking wrapped around his face. It reeked of dried sweat and it tasted even worse. Sour, metallic. Like blood. It left Jack wondering if it was his own or someone else's.

It must have been nighttime. It was too cold to be anything other, even if he was laying deep into the jungle. A cold wind assaulted him and he couldn't stop himself shivering as it chilled him to the bone. He tried to move, tried to reposition himself so he would escape the most brutal portion of the wind, and doing this he realized it was impossible. His legs were bound, and he was tied to the tree he lent against. His head fell back, almost involuntarily. God, he was so tired.

They'd probably given him something to knock him out. To keep him unconscious while they dragged his limp body out into the jungle, so deep that nobody would ever find him, tied him to a tree and left him to die. Jack felt his eyes start welling up and his throat grow tight. This was the end. He was going to die here and there was nothing he could do to stop it from happening. He tried to remember where he'd been last, then maybe he could work out where about he was, and decide if doing his best at crying out for help would do anything at all. But he only remembered...Ben. And a wide, transparent cage - like a tank. Then nothing. Nothing until waking up blind. He had no idea how long he'd been gone or of anything - if anything - that had happened. He sunk down further against the trunk, scrapping his back as he did so, but Jack didn't care. Maybe has was already dead. Maybe this is what it felt like to die. Perhaps he wasn't tied to a tree in the jungle after all - he was rotting in hell.

Jack sat for a few moments before deciding where ever he was - he wasn't going to give up without fighting. Forcing his jaw apart from under the gag he began to scream for help as loud as he could. He anticipated his voice would come out powerful, strong and demanding, but tragically, he found he couldn't make any noise above a whisper. His throat was dry and sore, and he was dehydrated and weak. Jack started to feel nauseous from the effort and his head spun. He decided to abandon any hope of attracting attention to himself, and focus on opening his eyes so he could try and undo his hands and feet. He gained control of his eyelids and slowly began to coax them open. Although he won the battle, he was still met by darkness and he started to panic.

He was blind.

A cold rush paralyzed him, running through him from the tips of his toes to the back of his neck, forcing all the tiny hairs all over his body to stand up. He started to feel more nauseous than before, more dizzy and sick. His body shook and he lurched forward, dry heaving twice before misconstruing his environment and slamming his head back into the tree - again - where he came to rest.

That is when he gave up. Passive, he managed to calm himself down enough to let his body succumb to sleep.

He woke up to a faint rustling. Extremely faint - but it was there. And the noises came at distinct, timed intervals. Footsteps? He abandoned all hope of being able to see. He blocked out the smells, the foul taste and the cold and focused on listening to the sounds. He couldn't make out if they were approaching or moving away. He gave up for a few seconds - for five seconds - just to get his bearings and tried to focus again. The rustling definitely belonged to a person - no, two people - as they walked through the jungle. Were they looking for him? He opened his mouth, letting the gag sink between his upper lip and his tongue, crying out with all he had in him.

He could hear the leaves on the jungle floor rustling, getting louder and louder as the wind blew them around. The sound wasn't calming at all. It just subtly reminded him that the jungle was a dangerous place, perhaps he'd be eaten by -

A monster. Jack froze in horror. A pair of hands landed roughly on his shoulders, shaking him hard, while another pair moved hastily across his chest before settling on the sides of his face. This was it. They had him, they'd seen he hadn't died yet and came back to finish the job. Oh god, he was gonna die. His breath abandoned him, as whole body started to shut down, his limbs went numb, while his hands involuntarily clamped into tight, but shaky fists. The familiar icy chill returned. His ears started ringing - and he lost consciousness completely and passed out.