A/N: This fic is taking place in an alternate universe. The main theme is that of amnesia/memory loss, and I would ask readers to take the character information listed in the details with a grain of salt. (Sorry for not elaborating any further info on this - it's for the simple reason of not wanting to give too much away about the story ;))

I hope you can put up with this vague information and will still be able to enjoy the (most likely rather confusing) ride for what it is.

Prologue

The sound of waves crashing against a shore.

That's the first thing he becomes aware of.

Which is quickly followed by the unpleasant sensation of cold, soaked fabric clinging to his skin, and of tiny sand grains rubbing against his cheek and ear.

It takes what feels like the lingering remains of a wave rolling out against his body, further drenching his clothes, to finally make him crack his eyes open and take his surroundings in.

The sea. Or a sea.
The surface of the water is restless as it surges towards him in small waves, tossed around by the wind that is biting against his wet skin.

A horizon melting into low hanging, grey clouds.
Daytime, but still rather dark.

He doesn't know how long he's lying there, with the side of his face digging into the wet sand and his body gently rocked by shallow water as the occasional waves roll out against it, just staring numbly ahead at the endless looking sea. It might be just a few seconds, or it might be several minutes; he can't quite tell.

His mind feels hazy, thought coming only slowly to him. Which feels off, somehow; bringing up the odd metaphorical image of syrup trickling slowly and awkwardly down a path that was used to smooth, watery flow.

As he slowly comes to more fully, he grows increasingly aware of a strange pressure in his head and an odd static ringing to what he might link to his hearing, only that the issue doesn't seem related to his actual ears. The sensation reminds him of being exposed to some kind of 'vacuum', for lack of a better word – as if he'd been used to a constant background noise that has suddenly been switched off, making him painfully aware of an oppressive silence surrounding him that feels nearly tangible.
Yet it can't be actual sensory deprivation, as the waves hitting the shore in front of him and a sea gull crying its exertion into the wind above him make for quite the noisy surrounding.

He doesn't know what to make of it.

"You all right, mate?"

Taken by surprise at the unexpected voice behind him, he startles, pulled out of the strange, trance-like state. He pulls up his arms that have been stretched out to his sides after a moment and cautiously pushes his body up on them, clumps of wet sand falling off pinstriped jacket sleeves with the motion, then turns around to face the owner of the voice.

It's a middle-aged man; an angler, by the look of him, wearing waders and holding fishing gear in his hands. The man is looking him over with a mildly concerned expression.

He needs a few seconds to sort through the haze in his mind, his brain feeling so clogged that it seems like it first has to figure out the right language to work with, before he finally manages to rasp out a faint, "What?"

"Saw you lying there and thought I should make sure you're fine? Sure am relieved you're still breathing, mate, as I hadn't been looking forward to giving you mouth-to-mouth!" the stranger replies jokingly, his relief obvious. "Had a few too many last night, eh?"

"Did I?" he wonders aloud, still leaning on an arm and a hand digging into the sand, and tries to think back.

That's when realisation slowly begins to sink in, just as the concerned expression returns on the stranger's face when he continues staring at the man with a blank look for a few moments too long.

He can't remember.

A/N: Yes, I know I'm being horribly impatient as I have another unfinished story waiting to be updated. And no, this one isn't finished (far from it) as I'm posting it, either, meaning updating will likely be very sporadic here, too.
But damn it – my muse is not leaving me alone with this plotbunny and itching to get it out of my mind and out into the world, especially after recently talking about it again; so far as to block the creative juice for my other projects when I actually do feel motivated to write.
So here I am, once again giving in. Welp.