"Socrates. What an interesting name."

The brunette stiffened before silently chastising himself and forcing himself to calm down. It wasn't like people commenting on his name was a new phenomenon. He cleared his throat before looking at the woman in front of him, smiling nervously. "Is it?"

"Socrates sounds too stuffy. Can I call you Sock?"

He stiffened again, though this time it was because of his own invasive memories instead of any customer. Suddenly, he realized the woman had said something and was expecting a response. He squeezed his eyes shut for a brief moment, then faced her again. "I'm sorry, I was thinking. Will that be all?"

She looked the slightest bit affronted at the topic change, but nodded anyway. He rang up her items, carefully bagging them as he went. Mind wandering, he finished the transaction as quickly as he could manage. The woman walked away, carrying her packages and shooting him a distasteful look as she exited the store. He sighed and pressed his fingertips to his temples, sensing an oncoming headache.

His phone vibrated and he gingerly pulled it out, checking the caller ID. It's Mom. Maybe she wants to get something before I leave. He technically wasn't supposed to be on his phone during his shift, but…

Flicking the light at his register off and hooking the chain across the aisle, he answered the call, walking to the closest door as he did. "Hi mom."

"Hi honey. I didn't mean to interrupt your shift, but I wanted to remind you to get milk before you visit tomorrow."

"I'm on break anyway." It wasn't a total lie. He hadn't taken a break yet today and he didn't mind using it right now. "Milk. Can't you get Dante to do it? He's the one with a car."

"Socrates-" His mother started in a warning tone.

He sighed. "Alright. I'm sorry. I really should get back though, mom. I love you."

"I love you too."

He hung up and pinched the bridge of his nose. He loved his mom, he really did. He knew she was just trying to help him be more responsible, though honestly, his older brother was far less responsible than he himself had ever been. He felt something splatter on his face and looked up, half expecting to see his coworkers squeezing some sort of condiment on him. It wouldn't be the first time after all.

Instead, he saw black clouds and watched as more raindrops decorated the sidewalk. He grimaced, realizing that he'd left his umbrella at home.

Nydra would've been excited. She loved the rain.

He scowled as the thought occurred to him. Why was he thinking about her at a time like this? He hadn't seen her in years. Taking a deep breath, he turned and went back to his register. That's the second time today. You need to focus. You're never going to see her again anyway. Unhooking the chain and flicking the light on, he plastered what he hoped was a convincing smile on his face.

The next hour passed mostly in a blur, where he tried to count how many times he said, "Have a nice evening. Please come again." and lost track after around 50. Cleaning up was next and he wiped down his station is a daze, placing money for milk in the bag he was supposed to turn in. He quickly produced a receipt in case anyone asked and grabbed the milk.

"See you tomorrow everyone." He called (more mumbled, but no one was paying attention anyway, so he didn't particularly care if they heard him or not) as he left, milk in hand. It was pouring and he stood under a canopy for a minute, debating whether he should run and risk dropping the milk or just walk and get over getting wet.

Well, mom wouldn't be happy if I dropped the milk and was late tomorrow because I had to get more. Walking it is.

It wasn't that far from the store to his apartment, but the rain seemed to just get harder as he walked. He pushed his sopping wet bangs out of his face, though that only ended with them standing up awkwardly until the rain beat them down flat again. Something moved near the mouth of an alley and he stopped, wondering if it was worth investigating.

This is how people die in all those horror movies Dante used to make you watch.

He shook his head irritated, shoving the thought aside. Those movies weren't real. There wasn't really a serial killer down the alley- probably. Hoping that holding his chin up and throwing his shoulders back gave him the confident aura he was going, he edged a little ways down the alley. The movement was gone, but he could've sworn he had seen the light reflect off something.

"Hello?"

There was no response.

This is when the killer always stays quiet while the protagonist gives themself away by calling out like someone's going to answer.

Okay, he definitely needed to stop watching those movies with his brother. Not that he always had a choice in the matter. Suddenly, he froze and peered into one of the darker corners of the alley. It was a little hard to hear above the rain, but if he wasn't mistaken that was a sob, though it was oddly muffled.

He took a small step towards the corner and saw the barest glint of light from the streetlamp off what looked like hair. Another step. Another. It was definitely a person. One more tentative step. "Are you okay?"

The crying didn't stop like he expected it to. They weren't paying any attention to him. He wondered if this person had even heard his question or knew he was there. He moved closer again and thought he saw something silver zip behind the curled up form in front of him. "Hey, is everything alright?"

Now, the crying stopped, but he still didn't get a response. Upon closer inspection, he realized the figure in front of him was female. A ball of dread seemed to form in his stomach, though he wasn't sure why. He couldn't figure out why a girl might be sitting in the back of an alley crying, but he wasn't sure it mattered or if he really wanted to know.

I can't just leave her out here. She could get hurt. If someone else finds her… He shook his head again, though this time it was to keep such a horrid thought from continuing. The rain continued to pelt them with ice cold water, reminding him of why he'd wanted to get home so badly. He cautiously moved closer to the girl. "Hey, do you think you can stand? I'm not going to hurt you." He nudged her until she uncurled enough to hold a hand out. He took it gently and helped her up. She swayed for a minute, eventually leaning against him. He kept ahold of her hand and wrapped his other arm around her waist, noticing only after they'd started walking that this position pressed the milk into her leg.

She'll be fine. She could've gotten worse than a bruise for being out here so late. I thought girls knew better than to be out after dark. They all act like they do anyway.

He silently chastised himself for the judgemental thoughts. Somehow, he doubted she'd planned to collapse in a random alley. Something had probably happened and distracted her or maybe she was hurt. He'd check her for injuries when they got to his apartment, he decided. Another glance at her told him that whatever had happened, it had certainly taken a toll on her. There were dark circles under her eyes and it looked like someone or something had been scratching at her skin. She was almost deathly pale where there weren't bright red nail marks.

"You get into a gang fight or something?" He asked, only partially joking. When even that didn't elicit a response, his unexplainable fear came back. "We're almost there, alright? Just hold on a little longer."

Finally, he saw his apartment building and wished suddenly that his wasn't on the fifth floor. The walk up consisted of a lot of tripping, but eventually, they made it up. Letting go of her arm, he dug into his pocket for his keys. It took a few minutes, considering he had to keep ahold of her and the milk and unlock the door, but somehow he managed to get the door unlocked and open without dropping anything. Guiding the girl to the couch, he covered her with a blanket and hurried to the kitchen to put the milk away. He grabbed some towels from the closet and made his back to his unplanned guest. Whether she'd been awake when they'd come through the door or not, she was asleep now. He imagined she'd been exhausted. She certainly hadn't been very lively on the way. He gently pried her shoes and socks off, setting them over a vent in the corner.

Kneeling beside the couch again, he gently patted her hair and face with a towel, trying to get her as dry as possible without waking her up. He pinched part of her jacket between his thumb and forefinger, considering how to go about drying her clothing.

I should just let her sleep. I know if our roles were switched, I wouldn't want some random person undressing me just to dry my clothes. Plus, that's kinda creepy. The couch isn't very comfortable though.

After a few minutes of thinking, he went to the closet and grabbed the rest of the towels and brought them to his room, laying them over the bed and pillow. Thankfully, there were a few left over. Setting them on the nightstand, he went back to the couch and picked the girl up, trying once again not to wake her up as he carried her through the apartment.

Hopefully, she won't freak out too much when she wakes up. He laid her on the towels, then got a couple of the extras and covered her with them, before pulling the blanket over her.

Making his way out to the couch, he sat down and sighed. He took his shoes and threw them near the door, much less ceremoniously than he'd been with hers. He sent the closed bedroom door a sidelong look. "I hope you're worth all this trouble."

Not that he minded too much, to be honest. It just wasn't a good day for this sort of thing.

"You didn't honestly think I did it for you, did you?"

Nydra jumped awake, her heart racing and chills crawling up her spine like spiders. She sat up, brushing at her skin, trying to rid herself of the nasty words her brother had spat at her the day before. She hadn't been dreaming or having a nightmare exactly, but her mind had seemed eager enough to relive every single horrible thing he'd said to her throughout her life, though the worst had definitely come from yesterday.

It took her a minute to realize that she wasn't at home or in that alley she remembered collapsing in yesterday, when her legs had shaken so badly that she couldn't stand anymore, whether she'd wanted to or not. She looked around, taking in her surroundings as calmly as she could, though admittedly, she wasn't very calm. Not on the inside anyway.

"Rhys?" Her voice was quiet and hoarse.

The fox like kwami zoomed over to her wielder from the window, her eyes lighting up. "Nydra!" She nuzzled the blonde's cheek, tears welling up in her eyes.

"Rhys, are you crying?"

"No!" She wiped the tears away subtly. "What's the last thing you remember?"

Nydra thought back to the night before, though her memories were a bit muddled. "Um… a voice." She said finally. "A voice asking me if I could stand. Telling me they weren't going to hurt me."

Which, she supposed, that much had been true. The mystery person hadn't hurt her, or at least, not as far as she could tell. But that voice, she could've sworn she'd heard it somewhere before. "Where are we?"

"In the bedroom."

Nydra sighed, sending her kwami an exasperated look and trying to decide if the fox-like creature was being sarcastic or not. "Yes, I can see that." She could also see a photograph on the nightstand. Curiosity overcoming her better judgement, she reached over and grabbed it. Her eyes narrowed and her stomach started to churn. "Okay, that's a little creepy."

There was no way the two people in the photo were who she thought they were. And if they were, this person was either a creep who stole photos of children or… But there was no way...

There was a knock on the door and they both jumped, Rhys immediately flying into Nydra's jacket. The blonde quickly put the photo back where she'd found it and tried to look as innocent as possible. The door opened and he walked through. She stared at him, her mind pointing out every little thing that was the same as the boy in the photo.

That scar on his lip, that would be from- but lots of people have scars.

Socrates froze as he stepped into the room, his greeting dying on his lips. She was awake, which was good, because he'd feel weird walking in on a sleeping girl, but it was the first time he'd actually seen her face, he realized. And she looked a lot like-

"Nydra." He said finally, his eyes darting between the photograph on his nightstand and her.

This was impossible. There were plenty of blonde girls in Paris, all over the country, all over the world. This couldn't really be her, right?

But maybe- well, the way her eyes had widened just the tiniest bit when he'd said that name and the way she'd been staring at him when he walked in. And her hair was the right color, longer than when they were kids, of course.

"Sock." She replied after a few minutes. Her voice was deeper, more mature, but it was hers…

She smiled sheepishly at him. "Hi."