#001
"Do you remember anything at all?"
He blinks, breathing slowly and carefully less he wants the pain that splits his skull in half to come back again. Half of his body is wrapped in blanket but he's still cold. He's cold and empty, like a lonely house up on the woods on a winter night.
He's so cold.
The father and daughter look at each other. "You must know something," the daughter insists.
"A name, maybe? Perhaps your home?"
Home. Did he have a home?
He rummages his brain for any memories, but soon enough a sharp ache slices through the crevices of his mind and cuts the deed short.
Home. He has a home, maybe. He just doesn't know where.
The father shifts, sympathetic of the boy who looks a lot younger under the light of utmost confusion. He pats him on the shoulder and says, "It's okay. Maybe we'll try again later. You've been through quite a lot. Just recover for now."
He nods though he doesn't know why. As the pair moves to leave, the daughter preceding it with a sigh, a voice that sounds like his own asks, "Where am I?"
The father and daughter stop, look at each other again. "You...don't know where you are?" the father asks.
He shakes his head (only slightly, because too much movement hurts).
"We're in Avior."
Avior. "I don't...think I've heard of this place before."
The daughter shrugs. "You must be from a nearby stellar system. Aludra, maybe?"
"Regulus is closer," her father suggests.
He shakes his head. "None of those sound familiar to me."
The father turns to brooding. Meanwhile, the daughter only says, "Well, a farther planet might make more sense." She looks him over, her focus particularly on his clothes. "You don't look like you're from around here."
"Kara."
"What, Abba? Aren't I right?"
"That's rude." He scans his clothing, too. Despite his intentions, it's clear that he agrees to a degree with his child. "Anyway," he says to him, "are you in need of anything? Food? A different clothing? Something to drink?"
"How did I get here?" he asks, now taking in the small, red clay lodging that serves as a home.
"Aquus and Father were coming back from a visit to a different planet when they found you floating around in space. You've passed out." She points. "You were wearing that as an outer garment."
Following her gesture, he sees a white suit hanging on the pegs on the wall. There's also something at the foot of it, something circular and big.
A helmet, his mind suddenly reminds him. And a space suit.
"A space suit," he mumbles.
The daughter grins. "Oh, is that what that silly thing is?"
"Kara?"
"It's outdated, Abba. Far outdated." She smirks. "It's ancient to our standards."
The father can only sigh. "Do you need it, my child?" he asks their visitor.
Does he need it? Besides the ebbing migraine, he can breathe. He's fine without it as far as he's concerned. "No."
"Now that I see it, I don't think you're from here," the daughter says, frowning thoughtfully. She nods at his shirt. "Alien writing, Abba. None that belongs to any of the nearby stellar systems."
Seeing the other man frown at his clothing, he looks down to see.
D-A, maybe E or F, then N, maybe P, O, R, T.
He pulls his shirt down for a better look.
Davenport.
"Davenport?" he says.
"Is that your name?" the daughter asks.
He thinks about it. Davenport. Him.
Davenport. Him.
He shakes his head. "I don't think so."
"Maybe you were associated with someone named Davenport," the father offers.
He nods, unconvinced. "Maybe."
"Dinner will be in a little," the father says, his joints cracking dully as he stands up. He takes a filling, deep breath then sighs. He smiles at him. "Rest for now. There is no use rushing your mind when all it may want for now is recovery. You barely had any air in your containment garment when we found you. It's amazing that you're even alive. Don't rush it for now. You have time."
"Yes. Until Aya comes back."
"Kara, what did I—" He watches as the girl, barely even an adolescent yet at this point, scuttles out of the room giggling.
"Who is Aya?"
The father smiles a weary smile at him. "My oldest daughter. She's about the same age as you," he says. "She's a huntress."
A huntress. He nods again though he does not understand.
"Rest well, um..."
He looks at his host, sorry that he cannot provide him even the basic courtesy of his name.
The father smiles. "We'll let that be for now," he says. He steps out of the room then says, "Rest well, my child. It'll be better when you awaken."
He watches as he leaves.
As the flames upon the smaller torches in the room weaken (how does that happen?), he lies back down. He still feels weak from whatever ordeal he has gone through. This makes him feel rather hopeless and helpless, this not remembering. In these moments, he realizes how important knowledge actually is to maintain some balance in his waking hours.
He closes his eyes and breathes in the air. It comes in pure and a little salted, charged with something thick and earthy that can only be the red clay making up the walls.
Sleep. He must go back to sleep.
No!
He wakes up after the deafening sound of air, vacuuming out past him into nothingness, rings in his ears. He looks around, making sure it wasn't because a hole has suddenly appeared on the ceiling to suck him out.
But he finds nothing. Just the low flames of the fires flickering softly, dancing deftly in the dark.
He closes his eyes again, but warily this time.
Whose voice was that? It wasn't his, that's for certain. But whose was it?
As he ebbs into slumber, stars begin to fill the darkness. They're all so far away, he thinks. He feels some satisfaction in that because coming too close to a star will set him ablaze.
He's far, that's good.
But he's lonely, too.
So, so lonely.
We have to fix it...
Fix what?, he wonders. It's the same voice.
Hold on!
We're going on a vacation!
Adam...
Who's Adam? Is it him?
Chase, don't ruin this for us. There's the memory of a boy with dark brown hair, his back on him.
He turns around, but before he sees his face the memory goes away.
Honey, you'll be okay, right? The voice of a woman asks him next. He sees her come close to embrace him then she says, I know it's kind of scary, having a new dad. But he's nice. He loves us both.
So he has a mother, and probably a father.
But who is he? And who are the people he sees in these flashes before his dream?
No!
It's the same man again, his voice rising feebly above the loud sound of air gushing through. He's the same one who told him to hold on.
But he's tired, so tired.
Sleep well, my baby.
So he lets go and allows the universe to take him in its embrace.