A Drop of Golden Sun

"Even though we know life is not fair, I believe you are still too young to die..."

"But--"

"Rey, I want you to live."

"Gil, I'm sor--"

He felt the helmet as it was suddenly shoved around his face. Fingers that weren't his own clasped the helmet onto his pilot suit. He saw the man's smile, difficult through pain, and then everything went perfectly white, and then black.

He shot up, gasping for breath. Pain rocketed through his body and he collapsed back onto the bed, trembling uncontrollably. But through the haze of his raw-feeling nerves and, undoubtedly, large doses of drugs, he could perceive his surroundings. Slowly. With much effort.

The room was dark and faintly blue, as if it were moonlight that were seeping in, or off-color fluorescent lights. He was lying in a bed, a hospital bed, by the sterile smell and starchy texture of the sheets. The edge of the pillow that his cheek rested on felt like coarse paper. He could tell from a soft, blinking glow that there was a green light at the foot of his bed, though he didn't dare move his head to see the source. He was fairly sure that the eerily shiny post near his bed was holding a pouch of liquid that was being pumped into him through an IV.

Satisfied that he was not in an entirely hostile environment, he closed his eyes and allowed himself to fold into unconsciousness.

It may have been minutes, hours, or days later when he awoke. He had no way of knowing, and felt completely disoriented. He felt himself slowly receding from a deep sleep, warm light and voices approaching his consciousness like waves lapping the shore of a lake.

He slowly opened his eyes, becoming aware, at the same time, of the dull numbness in his back, legs, and left arm.

"Hey, the kid's awake." A voice, female, probably aged between 20 and 30. He didn't recognize it. Her face appeared above his, fair-skinned and blonde, with hazel eyes and a soft, round nose. She seemed to be indeed between 20 and 30, but he judged her to be closer to 30. He still did not recognize her.

"About time," said a man's voice with a hint of a German accent. This voice probably belonged to a large man, about the same age as the woman. Papers fluttered, like the sound of someone flipping quickly through a book. "Any longer and I'd have thought him a cucumber."

"You mean a vegetable," said the woman, disappearing from view. She sighed in a way that made him think she was giving the man a pointed, "don't screw around" look. Her face appeared again, thankfully blotting out the overhead light.

"Welcome aboard the freighter Golden Sun. We picked you up while cleaning up near the Messiah mess. Our ship is on scrap duty, and you were pretty lucky." She smiled warmly, in an almost motherly fashion. He wondered if she had lost a son, and were unconsciously seeking a replacement.

"Especially lucky you had that helmet on while indoors." The man's voice seemed to echo across the room from far away, and bounce off all of the walls. He wanted to hold his head still with his hands to keep it from being pushed by the sound waves.

He thought he saw a flash of a dark room, and a splash of something red. It glittered and pooled, and eyes widened. Shock. A shot. It echoed and the sound pushed him away, and somehow it was inside him. It bounced and echoed and rebounded. It shook. He shook. He heard a loud beep and voices, voices telling him to hold on, to breathe slowly, to play the piano better, to say hello, to take his medication, to hold, just hold on...

"Rey, I--"

He opened his eyes slowly, surprised to find the room empty and quiet, except for a faint humming. The two people were gone, and the light was dimmed.

He vaguely realized that much time had to have passed. He determined that something was wrong with him, something other than the injuries that must be present in the areas he felt a dull, faintly pulsing numbness.

He decided to do a quick check of his system as he had been taught. He took even and steady breaths as his eyes darted to find a clock. There was one above the door, silver and, incredibly, analog. He relaxed in the silent room and turned his head slightly, carefully, until he could hear the beat of his pulse in his ear. Watching the clock, he was relieved to find it within a normal range. He rolled his head on the pillow and tried to stare towards the opposite wall. The slight movement made him feel dizzy. He waited patiently for the room to stop swimming, and then continued. He shifted his shoulders, and both moved without pain. His left arm wouldn't move, but his right was in normal condition. He used his right hand to prod his stomach, and found that most of it was rather painful to touch. One spot produced an eerie tingling sensation that made him feel as if the rest of his body was beginning to rapidly disintegrate. His legs were numb, and refused to move.

He considered himself lucky.

But why?

It was then that he realized, with a sudden jolt of panic, that he had no idea what was going on, why it was happening, who anyone was, or how all of it had come to be. He did not remember pieces of information that he felt were vital to…someone.

He tried to sort through memories like he had checked his physical self, but images floated away from his conscious mind as the low buzz in the room magnified. Debussy's Claire de Lune drifted through his mind, and stuck there, although he had no idea why. He tried to pull up an old memory, imagining himself in childhood, and to his relief…

Rey climbed up onto the piano stool and sat there, swinging his chubby child's legs back and forth as he waited for a signal to begin. He glanced behind him, across the enormous room, lavishly furnished with heavy curtains and carpets. A man appeared in the wide doorway behind the dark leather sofa and low coffee table with one of Rey's books, a coaster, a cell phone, a glass chess set, and a digital notepad. The man nodded at Rey, who turned around to face his music. He heard the man sit on the couch and the slight clink as he set his glass of wine on the table.

Rey took a deep breath, and put his short fingers on the keys. The first notes of Claire de Lune sprang from the piano as Rey stretched his right foot down to reach the pedal. A few strands of his blond hair fell into his eyes, but by this time Rey knew he could play without looking at the music or the keys. He was playing perfectly, as he knew he should be able to after three days of heavy practice. Rau did not think that small hands allowed one any excuses, and Rey agreed.

The song came to a light close, and Rey spun around, hoping for praise. He watched the lips below the white mask carefully.

A corner of Rau's lips turned upwards. Rey scooted off the piano stool, delighted, and hurried over to the couch.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet, Rey," Rau said, picking up his glass again. He took a sip, and then held it there. "His name is Gilbert Dullindal."

Rey nodded.

"I'm going to convince him to stop studying genetics, and to take up politics."

Rey nodded, and Rau continued.

"I believe that all…visionary men…should have the…opportunity to—"

The door to the Golden Sun's infirmary opened, and the woman from before stepped in, turning on the lights and checking a machine before she realized that Rey was awake, staring at her with a look of reserved interest.

"Oh, you've woken up! Thank goodness! We thought you might have had serious neural damage and weren't going to wake up again." She smiled. "I don't mean to scare you, but your injuries are quite severe. We weren't always sure you were going to make it. Would you like me to tell you what we're fixing on you?" She paused and her hazel eyes watched his face in an endearing sort of way, as if she did not expect him to make a verbal response.

"Please, go ahead," Rey said confidently, although the first word came out as a croak.

Her smile widened considerably, and Rey again considered the possibility that he was a surrogate son for her. Or perhaps he was projecting, and she was the replacement mother for him.

He tried to pull up any memories of his own mother and failed miserably. For some reason, this did not distress him, although he was confident that the lack of this information would make any normal person feel alone and perhaps hopeless.

Now Rey knew that he was not normal.

She smoothed a few locks of golden hair out of his eyes and pulled a chair up next to Rey's bed. "Well," she began, her hand dropping away self-consciously all of a sudden, "you've got two broken legs, but those are healing quite nicely. You managed to get plenty of ribs broken and bruised, so avoid deep breaths. Your left arm is broken in three places. Your head...had some trauma, but until we talk to you and see you move around, we won't know how bad it is." She smiled gently and took his good hand in hers. "Don't worry," she told him, "it'll be alright now."

Rey's blue eyes watched her carefully. He had never had any doubt that things would be alright. He would make them so, even if they did not wish to cooperate.

His mind suddenly conjured an image of a dark-haired man, tall and young, pacing in the way fresh geniuses move because their thoughts cannot be contained, nor conveyed without movement.

"We might have to make them, even if they do not wish to cooperate. But you can see it, don't you, Rey..."

The woman straightened her white lab coat in a way that made Rey realize she was waiting for some kind of response from him. He silently cursed that he had been focusing on memories rather than the present as his lips turned upwards into an automatic smile of glassy calm. Rey knew that this smile, fake as it was, was utterly his and vital to his personality. But why did he immediately feign a cold and aloof exterior?

"My name is Rey Za..." Again, Rey cursed himself without speaking. He had hoped that his entire name would roll off his tongue. It had not, but he had gained knowledge of his middle name. But the rest of his identity, something he knew he said frequently and answered by rote, remained stuck somewhere within his brain. Rey took a breath, not too deep, and wondered again why he was acting like someone else. His vision became fuzzy, and he couldn't focus. He smiled sadly in the woman's direction. "I can't remember who I am," he whispered, not caring that someone would realize he had emotions, that someone might care about him, someone other than the dark-haired genius...

The woman leaned over him, putting her arms around his head and sort of cradling it. She smoothed his hair back out of his eyes again, and whispered meaningless phrases of encouragement.

Rey snapped back to himself, and blinked rapidly, the tears breaking free from his eyes and running down his temples. "Sorry." Rey's voice had come out stiff and formal.

The woman drew back.

"My name is Rey," he stated, his emotionless mask claiming his features once more. "Thank you for rescuing me, and taking care of me. I will repay you with a currency of your choice, or if you'd like me to help aboard this vessel once I am able, I will do so as payment. I owe you and the rest of the crew." Rey was suddenly unsure of how much money he could claim as his own, though as he had said the words, he had been confident that even an extravagant amount was easily within his reach. But without knowing whether his first instinct had been true or false, Rey needed to secure the outcome as help aboard the ship. He let his well-schooled expression to slip into one of self-doubt. She had already comforted him, so she should be an easy target. "I don't know if I'm any good aboard the ship, though. I might just get in everyone's way. And I don't want to be a problem, after you've done so much for me already." He paused, just long enough to let her know that he was changing directions of thought, but not enough to let her butt in. "But, where can I find a job? Do you think people will hire me? What if...what if I never remember even my family?" He paused again, this time his eyes downcast, and as he expected, she waited for his final question. "Do you think that...my family...is looking for me?" He let his blue eyes work their wonders on her, using a searching gaze, as if he were afraid she were going to lie to him. She easily went for his bait.

"Of course they're looking for you!" she whispered fiercely. She pushed the lock of hair she had been messing with the entire time firmly behind one of his ears. "And we'd be glad to have you help aboard our ship. We've been short of hands ever since the war on Logos started."

Rey smiled at her, and hoped that she couldn't see how fake it was. "Thank you," he told her as sincerely as possible. He looked toward his toes, then made a quick glance in her direction. Looking at the wall opposite her, his voice slipped out quietly. "What's your name?"

"Call me Erin." He rolled his head around slowly to look at her.

"Call me Rey."

They stared at each other for a long time, and Rey did nothing to change anything. He could tell by the short, quick movements of her eyes that she was memorizing his face. He felt a sudden and strong desire to hide his face, as if there were something shameful about his delicate features and liquid blue eyes. He resisted the impulse, and continued watching her without blinking.

The door slid open with a hydraulic hiss and the man from the day before stood in the doorway. Erin glanced behind her, and her loose blond bun bobbed in a nod. The door slid shut as the man continued down the hall. She turned back towards him, and shifted slightly. She was about to leave.

"Well, I've got to go, Rey," she said, putting extra emphasis on the use of his name. Rey showed her a smile when he recognized how he was being addressed. She moved her hand as if to stroke his cheek or pet his hair again, but her hand changed directions suddenly and touched a dial on the medical equipment at the head of the bed. She smiled warmly and stood. "I'll see you again later today. Try to get some rest, okay?" She turned and walked to the door.

Rey waited until she had just opened the door, but hadn't made a move to step through it. He knew how to time these things right.

"Erin?"

"Yes, Rey?" She turned around too quickly, and Rey knew she was entirely caught.

"Thank you."

She quirked a smile, and then hurried out the open doorway. It hissed shut behind her white coat, leaving Rey alone again.

But he had made sure that she'd be back. He realized that it was probably her duty to look after him, but for some reason he'd felt it wasn't enough. He was worried about...enemies or something of the sort. He'd wanted her to feel morally responsible, emotionally attached. If there were some sort of disaster, she would be sure to come for him.

He knew he was ruthlessly manipulating her. Rey checked his sentimentality levels and found them to be no different than what he guessed.

He was not attached. He was simply manipulative.

He wondered why he was so good at making people do what he wanted while making them believe it was what they wanted. Like that boy.

What boy?

The one he remembered, but could not remember. Rey concentrated, willing his mind to stop moving things just out of his reach. What boy had he manipulated so well?

His mind retrieved an image of a brunette, but the face wasn't clear. Rey stretched his imagination, filling in the features, but he instinctively knew it was the wrong boy.

He felt his consciousness slipping, and a sudden feeling of panic. This was the other boy, the one who saved him. The one who convinced him to--

Rey felt an almost physical pain and had to gasp for air. He knew he did not want to know what he had been convinced to do. But the boy's face remained in his mind. Those violet eyes were looking, searching, and nothing was hiding...

I love Rey. Anyway, let me know what you all think. Do serious pieces work with me? Please review.