The fading ghosts of faces danced behind Isaac's eyes, the last images of a dream he couldn't remember. For a few moments he just lay there with his eyes closed, wishing sleep would reclaim him. He felt utterly drained of energy, his limbs were heavy, but he didn't pay any attention to either of those things. Not until he reached a hand up to cradle his pounding head. What did I do yesterday? he thought with a wince. Wrestle a bear?
He sat up, blinking as the light of the sun invaded his sensitive eyes. That's weird, I usually keep the curtains closed. Once he could open his eyes without feeling like someone had shoved a knife into their sockets, he cast a short glance at his surroundings.
It only took a heartbeat for him to realize something was unusual. "This isn't my house, " he said out loud, the implication not fully setting in. Then the throttle on his heart was thrown wide open. "This isn't my house!" he rasped in a quick breathe.
He jumped out of bed with agility he hadn't shown since his days on the team, frantically looking for his clothes. The sunlight spilling in the window laid a line of golden light right down the middle of the room, leading to the door. The door that was very much the door to a hotel room. What the hell happened last night?
He jumped from a loud noise behind him. A DJ was in the middle of a rant about current events, his voice made tinny by the cheap speakers. An alarm? he wondered. He checked his watch, finding it to be 8:30 A.M., right on the dot.
Heart still racing, he decided that a shower, while maybe not the answer to his problems, could only do him good. Not here, though, at home. He had to get home, he just couldn't quite remember why in the haze his brain was trapped in. He couldn't remember how he'd come to be here, and coupling that with the migraine, figured he must have gone out drinking with the guys last night. No big deal. But how'd I wind up here?
Rubbing his temples, he could feel his pulse beneath his fingertips beat in time to the flares of pain in his skull. He threw some clothes on, checking to make sure there wasn't a credit card or some other object of importance thrown down somewhere. With the exception of a bible in a bedside drawer, he couldn't find anything, and so decided to check out and try to sort this mess out later after. Hopefully after a hot shower and a long nap.
Once he was in the lobby, though, things only grew stranger. A particularly friendly woman working the front desk grinned as he approached her. Then she turned her gaze to her computer screen and began typing. She seemed, familiar, somehow. Maybe she was working when I checked in? He leaned on the counter, waiting for her to look up from her monitor.
This conception was shattered when she leaned toward him, gave him a quick peck on the lips, then whispered "Everything okay honey?"