Three things: I Aram means little sun; English is not my first language and let me know what you think if you feel like it.

Enjoy, lovelies.

.

It happens when she's 11, and she can barely understand the situation.

Her mother is pushing her toward a little spaceship, barely fit for one. She is whispering how much she loves her and blinking so fast, Emma notes, and her father can't even properly look at her through his desperate sobs. He kisses the top of her head over and over again, whispers "you'll be okay, I Aram," and sticks his trembling hand into her pocket, presses his finger to his lips.

She chooses to ignore the added weight of the object her father put in her pocket because his eyes are pleading her to do it for now.

Her mother keeps whispering "It'll be all right," and forcing a smile. She presses a kiss to Emma's temple, closing and sealing the small spaceship's transparent door, and looking at Emma as though she's the best thing that could ever happen to her.

She clutches her hand to her chest as though her heart weighs way too much at the moment, and mouths 'I love you' just as the spaceship rises off the ground. Emma desperately tries to open the goddamned door, but it is fruitless.

"Mother!" She yells and punches the door. "Mother, we can do this together! I can fix this, I promise! Please get me out of here!"

She screams and kicks and cries, and gets the last glance that she would ever have of her family.

They are only brilliant little dots in the distance now, her nails long broken, fingers bruised and bleeding, her whole body sore and scraped with the worthless attempts to get out of there, when the tiny, blue and green spot that was her planet ceases to exist completely.

She passes out and doesn't wake up until hours later.

.

When she opens her eyes, it's a forest she sees.

The door to her spaceship is open and she assumes her mother must have programmed the ship to only open when it reached its destiny. She stands up on wobbly legs, steps out of the ship, studies her surroundings. She's tired, so very tired, but she has to find a way back to her land.

She looks back and sees what is left of her spaceship, murmurs her disapproval of how badly it had taken the landing since Emma doubts she can even touch it without it falling apart. Taking a quick look at herself, she finds that her body isn't in much good conditions either.

It won't take much time for her to heal after the sun makes its appearence, but still. The pain is somewhat uncomfortable and she doesn't like it; It will slow her down.

She thinks it must have taken hours to get here, or even days, judging by the little noises her stomach produces. She is so nervous she doubts her body would even accept something without giving it back full force, but she has to feed. If she wants to be strong enough to find a way back, she has to get a proper meal.

So she starts walking.

Well, not a proper meal, she thinks after some time. To be honest, if she finds something that even remotely resembles food, it's a victory. She can only see trees, and veganism isn't an attractive option for her. Do I even have an option?

She looks around and only sees green. Perhaps not this time.

She can't risk to eat any of the little fruits she finds, as her brother once said, "Emma, if it is small and red, don't trust it".

Probably not the wisest words, but they serve her well at the moment.

Oh, I don't care, she exclaims, examining the plants and grabbing a leaf with the best smell she can find, stuffing it into her mouth. She immediately gags and spits it out, completely disgusted and looking at the offending rests of the chewed leaf on the ground, a firm scowl on her face.

I can start healthianism another day, she decides. Hunger isn't a major problem right now. She hopes there will be light soon - it would help her to heal more quickly and it would be infinitely easier to explore the grounds without falling abruptly. Multiple times.

She isn't sure how much time has passed until she reaches a road of some kind. Her left arm is injured, she is sure of it, and she must look like she has just escaped a murderer's house, but she must find help.

They can't be dead, she repeats to herself over and over again. They just can't.

They've been through too much to just die in an attack. They've fought so many creatures, faced somany dangers, proved themselves almost immortals. No, not her parents. They're alive and they need her help. If she's fast enough, she can stop any further invasion the Kanjanians were planning. She'd do anything to save her parents and her people.

The thought just intensify her steps, and she's almost running now, her black leather boots protecting her injured feet as much as possible when she's rushing her steps as determinatedly as she can. It's getting harder to swallow her whimpers of pain when her body is in such a state and she is putting all her weight onto it, but what else can she do when she has to be as fast as possible?

After some time, she is so tired she can barely breathe and she hasn't spotted anyone yet. She can only see green at her sides and grey at her feet. Slowing down her pace, she sees only blurred colours and after a few moments, only darkness.

.

"-Shocking, really... She was found like this, all bruised up, the poor thing..."

"It was lucky Dr. Humbert was there, I wonder what would've happened if he hadn't forgotten his car keys..."

"A saint, that man... Took care of the girl like she was his own child, so worried he was... How she is alive is beyond me, heard him say he couldn't find a single part of her that wasn't bruised..."

"Now you are exaggerating entirely, Reul..."

"Oh but it is true! Look at her! Home abuse, I'd say... Signs of struggle were found, her poor little hands! Strong child, that one, very brave..."

Someone scoffs loudly.

"Now are you going to say that Dr. Humbert said that too? Your imagination, Reul... Let's not assume things that were not yet confirmed, the child had enough suffering already."

Emma keeps her eyes screwed shut, trying not to move. Are they talking about her? She feels numb everywhere and even her mind seems to try to work a little harder to keep up with her thoughts and the strangers' conversation.

She waits until she can't hear any voices and cracks one eye open, looking around suspiciously. When she deems it safe, she opens the other eye, studying the ambient she finds herself in. It is dark, but she can see everything: the white walls, the enormous windows, the white chair by her bed. She is laying down and even her sheets are white.

She has some place to go, but she can't remember where.

Emma tries to sit down and the pain that comes with the action makes her groan croakedly, having her immediately notice that her throat is painfully dry.

She just has to get out of here. She has to. She doesn't know where she has to go, but it is an important place, an important mission. So, after countless little groans and a lot of pain, she sits up and tries to sum up everything she remembers:

- She is in some kind of healers' house.

- Her legs and arms are covered with bandages and a hard-surfaced white thing.

- She can't remember much of anything besides her name.

- She has to get out of this place.

When she finally manages to turn her body sideways, she hears footsteps.

A lady of colour in her 40s, dressed in white, walks toward her but she immediately jumps out of bed. She stumbles and almost, almost falls, but gets a strong grip on the chair and manages to stand on her wobbly legs. Emma points an accusing finger at her and narrows her eyes suspiciously.

"Who are you?" The blonde child manages to croak.

The lady raises her arms as though to show she means no harm.

"I'm Gerda," She replies. "Please go back to bed, little one. You have to rest."

Emma shakes her head stubbornly. "No. Show me the way out of here."

Gerda slowly approaches the child, her hands still raised above her head, a careful look upon her face. "I mean no harm to you. You can get out when you're better. Please, go back to bed...?"

Emma's eyes are impossibly narrowed now, and her position is that of a distrustful animal. She can barely see the other woman through the little line of rage her narrowed eyes provide her.

"...Adya," Emma replies. Her name isn't Adya, of course, but she knows better than to trust somebody so easily.

"Adya," Gerda says, as though testing how the name rolled off her tongue, and Emma can't help but notice the knowing look the older woman gave her, "We'll take care of you. Your body hurts right now, doesn't it? We'll make it stop. You're thirsty, aren't you? Hungry? We'll feed you, give you something to drink. I promise we're only trying to help. I swear it. See?" She carefully lowers one of her hands, closes it, then raises only her pinky. She smiles and takes more steps toward Emma.

Emma scrunches up her face, looking at the finger then back at the dark-skinned beauty, blurting out a croaked "What?!"

Gerda laughs beautifully then says, "Link your pinky with mine, this way you can trust my words. It makes my promise sacred, like a blood oath."

Emma had no idea what she was talking about. "I don't want your finger..." She says a bit shakily.

She can barely support her weight under her legs now, and it must be visibly obvious because Gerda looks so worried Emma feels a little sorry for her.

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"Well, I've never broken a promise before," she offers, shrugging noncomitally and giving Emma her best smile. They're so close that if she dares to stretch her arms, she can touch the blonde. She stuffs her hand into her pocket and offers the content she had picked up. "And I have pop tarts."

The child frowns and looks at the offered object curiously. Slowly tilting her head down, she sniffs it, and upon feeling no scent whatsoever, looks up at Gerda suspiciously. "What is this creature?"

Gerda wants to laugh, but the serious look Emma has on her face tells her that she isn't kidding, so the brown-haired woman just purses her plump lips and then says, "These are pop tarts, Adya. Have you never had one?"

Emma bites her lip and shakes her head, looking down.

How come a kid never had pop tarts? Gerda wonders. Where is this child from? Another planet?

Gerda sits down on the bed, patting the spot next to her. She opens the pop tarts and smiles when Emma sits next to her, the curious look never leaving her little scrunchy face.

Gerda pops one pop tart into her mouth and makes a delighted little noise deep in her throat. Emma giggles then gets serious again, because she wants Gerda to believe she is a threat, that she is little but dangerous. So she frowns and says,

"Is it good?"

"It's more than good. It's double good. It's triple good. It's beautiful, it's marvelous, it's unbeliavable..."

Emma bites her lip to keep from laughing, but her eyes give her away.

"May I try one, miss Gerda?"

Gerda pretends to wait and then nodds, smiling playfully. "Yes, you may, miss Adya."

Then, she leans in and whispers, "Don't tell Dr. Humbert. He wouldn't like to know the first thing you've eaten after all you've been through was a pop tart, you know what I mean." She winks and elbows Emma playfully.

This time, Emma can't hold it back and giggles. Her missing front tooth makes an appearence as well as her dimples. She carefully studies the pop tarts and picks up the most colourful one.

When Emma takes a bite, she is so happy she starts swinging her legs back and forth, quickly finishing her pop tart so she can eat another one.

"I see you've lost a tooth," Gerda says, breaking their comfortable silence.

Emma nods and manages a muffled "yes," with her mouth full.

"Did it hurt?"

Did it hurt? Emma wonders. She doesn't remember that. She doesn't remember anything, but maybe if she tries to concentrate in one specific moment...

She closes her eyes as tightly as she can and searches for any kind of memory she can have. Anything. A scent, an image, a sound. But she finds nothing.

She shrugs.

"I have milk, too. Would you like that? I have enough for both of us. You must be very thirsty."

Emma stuffs as many pop tarts into her mouth as she can without ripping the sides of her mouth open and becoming the Joker. She can dismiss the kind offer but Gerda seems to be nice enough, and maybe she can help her.

"Milk would be great," She relents after some time.

When Gerta comes back she has two mugs of milk in her hands. She hands one to Emma and sips her own hot milk.

Emma grabs the mug with both of her hands and enjoys the warmth spreading through her hands. She blows at it and observes as the smoke travels around her. When she tastes her drink, it floods her with so many good sensations she can't help but to purr loudly.

"Oh, so I take it you liked it, Adya?"

Gerda's smile is so big and hopeful Emma doubts anything as beautiful as it will ever exist.

"Emma," She corrects. "My name is Emma."

.

"I am Dr. Humbert."

There is a pause and Emma eyes the man suspiciously.

"Graham, if you prefer, Emma."

The child just keeps looking at him. She obviously is still judging him silently, deciding if he is trustworthy.

He gives an awkward cough and keeps his hands folded in front of him, a small little expectant smile upon his face. He wanted to know if Emma deemed him an okay person.

Minutes pass and the two of them don't say anything. He gives up first.

"You are quite the fighter, Emma. Have you any idea of how lucky you are that you're alive? I'm still amazed..." The man trails off and looks at her as though he can't find in himself to believe she is right next to him, breathing, alive.

"I found you on the floor, full of scrapes, bruises... Broken leg, broken arm... A small number of days and... and you're like this. It's a miracle. Your body, little Emma, it has an astounding capacity to heal itself." He gives her an amazed laugh, listening to the strong beating of her heart under his medical equipment. "The medicines you've been taking are very, very good, of course, but nothing of such capacity... Never..."

Emma listens intently.

Why is her body so different?

"Why?"

When she speaks, it is barely a whisper, but the tall man jumps out of his skin. Apparently, he wasn't expecting an answer and was lost in his own thoughts.

"Why? Well, because medicine isn't that advanced yet, my dear..."

"No," Emma says, a little loudly this time. "Why am I like this? Why am I different?"

Dr. Humbert scratches at the back of his neck and shakes his head for a few moments, his lips moving wordlessly. "I... I honestly don't know. I wouldn't believe it if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, Emma. When I found you, you had bruises all over you, dark circles under your eyes," He looks in her eyes and traces with his eyes the places where the dark patches must have been. "You were laying on your stomach, and I put you on your back so you could breathe a bit easier. I turn my back, make a few phone calls to the hospital... Next thing I know, the dark circles are gone, the bruises are very light..." He shakes his head disbelievingly. "You'd think all that time exposed to the sun would make it worse... I don't even know how much time you were there, Emma, but your skin was burning, so I'm assuming it was a lot."

Emma frowns. There's something about the sun, isn't there?

There is.

Her frown deepens and she purses her lips.

"What is it, Emma?" Dr. Humbert says. He tilts Emma's chin up and murmurs, "Open your mouth and stick your tongue out..."

Emma squints her eyes at him. "Why?"

"Come on, I won't steal your tongue, I promise."

When she keeps eyeing him suspiciously and looking at the door and at him from time to time, she says very seriously,

"How do I know I can trust you?"

"I just want to see if your throat is okay. You know, so you can eat more pop tarts behind my back," Dr. Humbert looks at her pointedly. "How do I know I can trust you?"

The blonde child looks genuinely guilty and flashes him a sorry grin. "Fair enough."

"Truce?" He says, offering his hand for a business-like handshake. After all, they are serious people.

"Truce," She replies and looks at his hand, a questioning look in her eyes.

"Shake it so we're business buddies, Emma."

Emma holds the doctor's hand with one hand in each side of it, then shakes vigorously with a toothy grin.

"Okay, now open your mouth like an alligator..."

"A what?"

"An alli... You know what, just open it as much as you can..."