Red Notice (2021 Thurber) Oneshots

Trust in Truth If You Can

Nolan faces a serious choice.

•

A dreariness was present as Nolan Booth opened his eyes. It was hard to see in the pitch-black room and it was cold, extremely cold. He could almost feel the frost creeping up his arms.

His arms.

One of his hands was shackled, but he was sitting on the stone floor. Given that his shirt was lighter, along with his jacket, he was freezing. He knew that hypothermia was serious shit, and it was only going to worsen.

"Hello, Mr. Booth," a feminine voice said. His gaze rose to find a woman wearing a brown fur coat and pants that were insulated.

He couldn't remember who she was, but as she strode forward, the way she walked, gently swaying her hips, the way she held herself, it all came back.

Lia Schmitt. She was one of the only people in the world with something close to Julius Caesar. He remembered that John, Sarah, and he had planned a heist to get the required item, but at the last second, Booth had been taken out by the security.

"I'm glad to see you're retaining your memories of recent events," Lia said sweetly. "I wouldn't want you to not know why you were here."

Nolan stared at her, carefully moving his free hand towards his cuffed one.

Lia noticed this, her hazel eyes sliding to his hands. "Don't try," she advised him. "There's no way out of them; I have the best security in London."

Nolan slumped back against the wall, letting his hands fall limp. He was shivering violently. He needed to find a way out of there or contact Hartley and Sarah.

As if Lia had read his thoughts, she spoke again, "I wouldn't try to contact your teammates either." She held out her hands, revealing Nolan's comms and his tracer. "My guards removed everything on you, besides you're just a pawn to them." She smiled, her teeth showing. She was like a cat with that grin, an insanely evil, feral cat.

Nolan wanted to make light of this situation. A quip, a snide remark, even an insult, but Lia was out of the room before his brain could muster anything. He heard the door click shut, but his brain was becoming sluggish. He could feel the cold sinking into his bones, the chill was shocking its way through his nerves. His hands curled into fists, trying not to shiver.

He couldn't fall asleep, no matter how tempting it was; that would speed up the process of hypothermia, for sure killing him.

But the temptation of sleep was so lulling, so drawing. He could almost hear soft music playing, trying to put him to sleep. He was so tired.

He shook himself. He had to stay awake! He needed to stay conscious long enough for John and Sarah to find him. Another shiver racked through him, making him even colder.

Sleep, his body seemed to be murmuring.

It wasn't what he wanted, but his own body betrayed him, taking control. His eyes fluttered shut as he curled into himself, trying to conserve heat.

•

He woke to sweltering heat, sweat dripping down his face. This was not good for his core temperature, all these highs, and lows. It was to torture him the hell out of his mind. Especially because both heat exhaustion and hypothermia could cause hallucinations.

Even though it was so hot, he tried to cling to the heat, preparing himself for the cold to come again.

He was almost begging Sarah and John to find him a little bit faster.

But you're just a pawn, a vicious, doubting voice in his mind said. The thought rippled its way through his mind, making him forget about the heat.