Hey guys! So the end of Season 11 got my blood pumping but unfortunately I haven't had the time to start writing until now! I also started writing this before SD ComicCon so any spoilers that may crossover are unintentional (I'm trying to stay away from said spoilers!). This is my take on the start of Season 12, so there are obviously tons of spoilers for Season 11 right from the get go.

Enjoy!

oOo

Burning.

Singeing, gnawing, jabbing: the burning blossomed from his aching lungs, spreading its tendrils through his veins. He couldn't keep this up. Couldn't suck in the air he needed fast enough. Blood roared. Fear chilled, wrapping his gut in a cloying decay of ice that mixed with the fire, creating a new kind of agony.

But still his legs kept pumping, driving him further. His heart smashed against his aching ribs. It was worse than it had felt when he'd been electrocuted all those years ago.

If he could last just a little longer.

Darkness shrouded the area with only dim slivers of moonlight flooding between the breaks in the canopy of leaves above. A thin branch whipped and sliced into his cheek, precise as a papercut and just as deep. He ignored the warm sensation of blood pooling instantly in the area, dribbling down his smooth cheek.

A loud crack – like gunfire – sounded behind him. The primitive part of his brain registered that that was exactly what it was; the sound of the Hunter becoming the prey. Panic tried to pool in his gut, clawing through the numbing ice. He wanted to stop – oh God he couldn't explain how much he wanted to stop – to hide. To make himself small and invisible. To be the child that hid under the bedcovers so that the monsters wouldn't get him. But he had never been that child. And he couldn't hide – not yet.

Another crack.

He stumbled blindly over a fallen branch, landing clumsily on his hands and knees on the soft, mulchy earth. Mud oozed between his fingers as he hauled his trembling body upright, cold seeping through wet patches on the knees of his jeans.

Nearly there.

He could make it; he had to. Another echoing crack launched him forward, renewing his energy. He pushed back the burning, the aching, the bubbling panic. He pushed through the edge of the treeline, into the clearing.

And stopped.

oOo

His lungs burned with a fire unlike anything he'd felt before. It spread through each capillary, licking flames across each one as his chest shuddered, bucking and heaving frantically, trying to draw in the oxygen that his body was being starved of. His back pressed into the cold metal beneath him, patches not yet warmed by the heat of his skin.

Maybe he would die this time.

A choked moan escaped unbidden from his throat. Icy water rushed down either side of his face, trickling through the fine dark hair that shadowed his cheeks. His limbs jerked involuntarily, wrists chafing against the cuffs that bit into the soft flesh.

But only one thing topped the fire and suffocating water.

It flared hotter, spread further, engulfing him. Even the trials hadn't scorched like this; he could still feel them licking fire through his veins whenever he thought about them.

Yet the burning in his lungs didn't consume him.

The weight lifted from his face, brushing cold air across his exposed, sodden skin. His lungs tried to draw in a breath but choked on the water clogging his throat. He threw it up in great mouthfuls, coughing and spluttering, turning his face to the side as he brought it all up before greedily replacing it with much needed oxygen.

But still the ache was there.

It was deeper than physical pain, more profound than anything he'd ever endured. It was a part of him; it will never leave. Never end. Even if he ceased to exist, he was sure the ache would still spread.

A face loomed over him. Familiar. Loathed.

"So what's it going to be?"

oOo

Please review!