I Found You, Something Told Me To Stay - (Jason/Zacky) Version Two.

Chapter Sixty-Seven.

This is the last chapter, guys! Only the epilogue to go!

Please vote, comment and let me know what you think!

Enjoy!<3

**

It was like a bad radio signal, and it was annoying.

Every time my eyes got to close, it felt like they reopened only seconds later. And the scene in front of me was different every time, and it confused me more than anything, and had it not been for the pain, I'd have curled up and told myself to ignore this stupid nightmare I was having.

It had to be a nightmare, because none of it was making sense. One minute, I was being carried within a pair of strong arms - then it went black. Then humming...humming from an engine, or something - and then black again. Bumps and strange, jolted movements that made everything hurt more - back into the abyss. I thought to myself, maybe I'm getting sick, and that's why everything hurts so much. Maybe I'll wake up with a cold, or the flu, or something, and then I drifted back to my broken sleep. And after a break of nothingness, I was thinking again; why is everyone talking so much? Why do they need to shout? I'm trying to sleep, dammit. I just want them all to go home.

Trying to sleep. Dammit.

Maybe - just maybe - it was starting to work. The ache wasn't so strong, and the bed sheets didn't feel so incredibly sore and scratchy on my skin - the talking had stopped. But then had to come the shrill, arrogant beeping that ripped through the room; I'd just gotten myself to sleep, and my alarm was already trying to wake me up.

My arm felt heavy as I lifted it, kept my eyes closed. There was some sort of twinge that burst through it with the movement - not painful, exactly, but like it could be, if not for the heaviness. I tried to move it and stretch it out in the direction of the bedside table in Zacky's bedroom, something I'd gotten used to doing every morning with closed eyes. But the table was missing, and my weighty arm collided with something unfamiliar to me. I tried to groan at the realisation that I'd have to open my eyes after all.

It took a few attempts, and then I wanted to snap them shut again; the room was far too bright. Was it usually this bright? I was too tired to remember. My vision was blurrier than it was most mornings, but rubbing that away felt like far too much effort. But then, even through my blurred, squinted eyes, my mind was starting to realise things weren't right. Zacky's ceiling wasn't bright white. His bedroom always smelled like clean cotton - definitely not disinfectant and rubbing alcohol.

Though I felt a little like I was floating, I also managed to grasp the feeling of the panic that set in. I didn't need to look around, take everything in to grip the truth of what had happened, why I'd woken up in a strange, unfamiliar place. Fraser must have drugged me - that would explain the drowsiness, and the confusing memories, and the floating feeling. He must have taken us somewhere.

The speed of the beeping increased. I clutched at the sheets beneath me, tried to control my breathing. My heart thumped hard in my chest, and my head began to pound, and the floating feeling seemed to disappear slightly.

Something folded over my hand.

I opened my mouth, tried to scream, to no avail. Something about my mouth and my throat wasn't right - abnormally sore, it seemed.

"Hey...hey..." A soothing voice broke through my panic. It definitely wasn't Fraser's, and it definitely sounded familiar to me. I had to flit through the names and images of people I knew, try to put a face to the voice. Only when it clicked did I truly manage to choke out a painful, strangled sob.