The Snapshot {An Agents of Shield Fanficton} [1]

Mirrors

The feeling - the state I went into when the drug overloaded my system was odd. I was conscious but I couldn't access any of my senses. I couldn't hear, couldn't see, but I could think. Boy, could I think.

Everything flashed through my mind. Memories of my life completely irrelevant to my life now. It all went so fast, like a movie that increased and increased in speed. Only when the movie slowed down was when I began to see them.

It was the visions again. The vibes. I was here, but my mind was somewhere else. I was traveling through a tunnel of words and images and emotions and sounds. Then suddenly, I heard something.

Focus.

It was a voice. It sounded familiar. Most likely because it was mine. My own voice inside my own head was speaking to me. And I listened. I needed to focus. I needed to find out where he is.

That isn't an option anymore.

I followed instructions. I focused and visualized that day again, just as I had done earlier. I squeezed my eyes shut, or at least that's what I thought I was doing, and the tunnel stopped.

I was standing in that room again. Right beside Dr. Snow. She was moving, but barley. It was like she was frozen in time, but still moving in slow motion. She was crouched behind the table, holding the gun and pointing it. I looked towards the door.

It was open. Standing with a shocked expression and peeking out through the doorway was Coulson. I looked further. I saw myself, still laid flat against the wall partially, beginning to look around the corner.

No, no this isn't right. I've lived this moment. He's already gone. I have to think back further.

I visualized Peter, back in that tiny cell. I saw Dr. Snow, and visualized them together. I opened my eyes again.

I was back where I was before. Dr. Snow was frantically undoing Peter's restraints, while he looked upon her in total amazement, or rather me, for I was viewing the scene from her perspective, because I, of course, had not lived it. My hands were not my own, and black hair brushed my shoulders instead of bronze. I was much taller and could feel the anxiousness propelling me as the scene went about.

I, Dr. Snow, finishing untying all the leather straps on Peter. He didn't move, but instead sat there staring and rubbing his wrists, his eyes wide and his breathing shallow.

I felt my hand reach behind my lab coat and touch something cool and metal. I brought it out in front of me. It was a pistol. Peter's eyes widened even more as he stared at the weapon, confusion crossing his face.

I felt my lips move. "You will do exactly as I say, or you will get a bullet in the head."
The words sounded muffled, as if they came from another world, or another time. But they were still words, coming from Dr. Snow.

Peter raised his hands slightly in defense, nodding slowly and swinging his legs over to stand up.

"Try to take the IV out, you're definitely dead." I said to him.

He slowly reached for the IV bag, disconnecting the cord from the storage bag. The tube itself held quite an amount of fluid for transport. He tied the tube in a knot on his left bicep, turning back to me.
"Where are we going?," he said.

"Doesn't matter," I bit back. "Just move." I waved the gun towards the door.

He complied and walked to it, opening it and stepping out into the empty room. I began to follow him, but I didn't move. I couldn't move. Dr. Snow didn't move.

I looked up and around, but I was no longer in that cell. It was the stone walls again.

I spun around. I felt the cold surface against my feet. I looked down. I had no shoes on. I brought my hands out in front of me. They weren't mine. They were rougher looking, the nails worn and chipped. A scar ran across my left palm. I looked back to the stone wall.