Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Brendan Dean. Or any of the others, actually, but it’s him I regret …

The Danger of Human Illusion
By EllieV

A Thoughtcrimes fiction

Prologue

He didn’t know where he was. It was a bland room. A hospital room—maybe. He lay in the bed, his arms over his eyes, his face hidden. The light was agonizing but the memories hurt more. He blinked behind his arms.

Blink.

Walking up and down, talking through the case. Thinking was faster.

Blink.

Crouching behind a wall. Making a move. The scream for him to get down and the sound of the shot that ruined everything.

Blink.

The dry voice saying, I’m sorry, and nodding numbly in response.

Blink.

Walking out of the building, his head down, knowing people were watching him.

Blink.

Putting books on a shelf and looking up when he heard her voice, only it wasn’t her voice. It wasn’t her at all.

Blink.

The boyfriend coming towards the car, eyes widening as he saw the gun pointing straight at him.

Blink.

Waking up in a room that wasn’t his and looking down at the puncture marks and bruising on his arms. He didn’t have a brother.

Blink.

Stumbling down a corridor, gun in hand, shaking in reaction. Not knowing whether to trust the voices screaming at him to put the gun down.

Blink.

The hands holding his telling him he was safe.

Blink.

Going home.

Blink.

Saying that he didn’t want to hurt her and her hands cupping his face as she told him lovingly not to be stupid.

Blink.

Laughing. Feeling wanted.

Blink.

Falling out of his chair, voices calling his name, ambulance sirens screaming.

Blink.

The pain.

Blink.

Saying hoarsely that she should stay away.

Blink.

Voices arguing.

Blink.

One voice telling him everything he remembered was a lie.

Blink.

The same voice saying he belonged to them, that he didn’t exist.

Blink.

Being bundled barely conscious into the back seat, leaning against the window, huddled in a blanket, as the car rattled into the desert.

Blink.

The clipped voice telling him he would be all right.

Blink.

The coffin lid closing. Coffins didn’t have windows. Shutting his eyes.

Blink.

Waking up as voices talked over the top of him.

Blink.

Nothing but obliterating pain for a long, long time.

Blink.

Back into reality as a familiar voice said, uh hey.

He cautiously moved his arms away from his eyes. The light was much dimmer but his eyes still hurt. All of him still hurt. He shuddered in a breath that sounded as though it would be his last. He focused on the white coat at the end of his bed. A doctor—maybe. More points towards it being a hospital—maybe. Another hospital. A woman stood next to the white coat. It seemed to be a uniform. Maybe not a hospital. Maybe a laboratory. She looked military though her uniform did not. She looked to one side and he followed her gaze.

Brendan Dean recognized the man’s stance immediately. His arms were folded and his shoulders hunched. He looked supremely uncomfortable. He saw that look in the mirror every morning.

Of course, the voice was familiar.

It was his own.

TBC …

Note:

Yes, I know I haven’t finished Postliminium yet but a plot bunny presented itself to me and the Thoughtcrimes voices are currently louder that the Atlantis ones.