Full Summary: Matthew, a high security patient, remembers none of his life other than the past two years spent within hospital walls. Suddenly, however, his ever-present dreams seem to be trying to tell him something. In the search for meaning to his visions, Matthew will have to ask the most dangerous question of all, the answer to which could forever change the balance of the world: who am I?

Who Are You?

By Blaklite

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Chapter One

He stood alone on a manicured green field that stretched on as far as he could see. The short grasses tickled his bare feet. The air was pleasantly warm, the sun beaming down on the world from the clear blue heavens above. The young man smiled softly, closing his eyes and basking in the rays of that great ball of thermonuclear hydrogen fusion going on millions and millions of kilometres of away.

As the boy returned his attention to the Earth, he noticed a pair of golden-haired figures standing on the horizon. Curious, he started running for them. It seemed as if decades were passing by with each step, yet his feet could take him no closer to the figures. He was just running on and on, the grass becoming a blur, the sun indifferent to his struggle.

Suddenly, he heard the figures laugh. The vibrations of the sound waves traveled through the matter of the gas mixture of mainly nitrogen and oxygen to ring through the delicate workings of his ear, his brain transforming the nerve impulses into information. It was a most melodious and pure sound, like ribbons of silver flowing undeterred through soft lands. He was simultaneously filled with such joy and such sorrow, that he wasn't sure whether to laugh, or cry, or do both.

An instant later, all thought of the figures and their gentle, loving laughter was wiped from his mind. Rather than grass, his right foot came down on a different plant. Looking down, he saw that the field now contained specimens of the species papaver rhoeas that seemed to be virtually choking out the blades of grass underneath their brilliant, blood red petals. He stopped and lowered himself to one knee, picking one of the millions of identical flowers, snapping its stem, its life source, easily in his thin fingers.

So absorbed was the boy in gazing at the beautiful organism in his hand that he didn't notice the field fade away to be replaced by a white room until everything was already in place. Standing up slowly and clutching the poppy in both his pale hands close to his chest, he noticed that he was enclosed on all sides by those six perfect squares, yet he did not feel afraid at all. A large pane of glass separated him from the rest of the room, though it might as well have been a mirror because staring back at him was his reflection.

Only, there was something off about his reflection. Sure it was pale, blue-eyed, tall, skinny, and blond like him, but there was a detached air about it, as if it mimicked him only in appearance, not in soul. The shackles around the other him's wrists looked heavy and menacing, but his reflection did not notice them as he gently held the poppy, as if guarding it from some unknown danger. As he watched, the reflection closed his eyes and lifted the crimson painted flower to his face.

Then the poppy began to change, the vibrant red fading to white and pink, the stamens going from black to yellow. It was no longer papaver rhoeas, but papaver somniferum, the opium poppy, the sleep-bringer, the flower that influenced Coleridge's journey into Xanadu.

He could only watch as his reflection brought the dangerous flower to his lips, open his mouth, and ingest the flower to the stem. Rather than the white latex that is the poppy's poison, a trail of blood made its way to the edge of the other him's jaw line. A single drop fell, but before it could hit the pure white ground, the blood became water, a salty tear splattering and scattering unceremoniously upon the floor.

The young man turned suddenly away from the identical figure of himself. A large, white bear that he estimated weighed nearly 550 lb (or 250 kg, if metric was more appropriate) stood where once there was none, its sentient black eyes boring into his soul. The mouth of that great beast did not move, but he knew that it was the bear's voice that said the next words: "Who are you?"

Finding he had no answer, the young man returned his attention to the glass. Instead of his reflection there was a small red poppy poking out of the brown soil that had peeled back the perfection of the floor. The tear had become blood once more, and in such a liquid was written the word whose letters stretched in a half circle around the flower.

REMEMBER

Remember what? The young man wanted to ask, but all too soon the world around him began to collapse as his mind fell back into darkness's sweet embrace.

Waking up was neither pleasant nor unpleasant for Matthew. It was simply a part of his daily routine, as were the dreams. He was hardly even fazed by the nightly visions anymore. Fumbling for his glasses and pushing aside a copy of Arabian Nights to get to them, Matthew was finally able to see exactly where he had hidden his journal. He always stuck it between the mattress and the bars of the bed frame; accessing it often involved being half upside down with legs flawing in the air. But it's not like anyone would be watching him at 6:30am.

Clicking on the lamp, Matthew started scribbling down his latest dream. He remembered every detail, and should someone else read his journal, they would probably think he was trying to write a novel. But Matthew didn't write in detail with the intention of sounding smart, nor because he thought his life was like a work of fiction. No, he just wanted to preserve the fine points in case they came up for future use. Science had taught him that even the most inconspicuous detail could be the one to mess up the entire experiment.

Reading over his work when he was done, Matthew began to wonder something that had never really crossed his mind so seriously before: what did it mean? What did the symbols represent? Was it connected to his other dreams? Was his subconscious trying to tell him something? Should he stop eating chocolate chip cookies before bed?

He might never know, but there was one thing he was sure about: he was not about to give up delicious treats anytime soon. He'd rather dream about nuclear war every night than give up Chips Ahoy!

Placing the journal back into its hiding spot and trying to push the dream out of his mind, Matthew practically leapt out of bed. The whole of his naked feet touched the cool tiled ground for just a second before he raised himself up on his tippy toes. His long, thin arms reached out towards the ceiling as if to grasp that expanse of white, though it was impossible since the room from bottom to top was twice his body length.

Feeling the pop in his back, Matthew relaxed from his stretch, heels firmly planted on the ground once more. This was the best way to wake up, in his opinion.

Matthew took his time getting ready since breakfast wouldn't be served until 7:10 anyways, and he hated starting his studies before having a good morning meal.

As 7:10 rolled around, Matthew heard the tell-tale sound of metal scraping against tile. Poking his head around the corner from inside his attached bathroom, he saw the tray of food lying on the floor where it had been shoved through the slat on the door. He heard no one call out to him, so either Howell had delivered his food today, or there was some new guy on shift. The other guards were generally nice to him, usually saying "good morning, Matthew" even if they didn't stop for a five minute chat.

Banks and Morrison were his favourites. They were the nicest of the group, usually having full conversations with him, or sneaking in extra treats with his meals, even letting him into the Secure Room so they could all play cards if they happened to be on duty at the same time. He was always afraid that they would get caught, and be punished for slacking off on the job, which only served to strengthen his gratitude to the two men.

Not wanting his oatmeal to get cold, Matthew grabbed the tray and put it on his desk, digging in immediately. When he was done, he gently slid the tray back to the other side of the door, and settled back at his desk to cover a bit more reading on King Lear before his meeting. He heard the Secure Room door open and close meaning the tray had been retrieved, but still no word from the person who came to collect it. He sure hoped it was just a new guy and not Howell. Then maybe he'd have another person to talk to.

8:20 rolled around and a knock came from the door. Marking the page, Matthew closed his economics textbook and practically skipped to the door. On the other side were two guards, one tall and burly and the other short, dressed in their black uniforms with their thick vests and masks, batons strapped to their belts. Someone else might have been afraid, but not Matthew. This was all routine after all, and they would only hurt him if he did something bad, which he never had. There had only ever been that one incident…but he'd never heard from that guard ever again.

He stood still so they could handcuff his wrists behind his back and blindfold him, his smile remaining in place. Afterwards, they unlocked the Secure Room door, and the three of them passed out into the hallway beyond.

As they passed through the corridors Matthew had long memorized by feeling alone, he noticed that one of the guard's footsteps, the one on his right, were too light to be Howell's. He must have been fresh meat. Matthew recognized the guard on his left immediately, however.

"Who's the new guy, Bridges?" he asked. A chuckle followed on his left, accompanied by a slight hitching of step to his right.

"Matthew, this is McGuire. She just got transferred here last night," responded Bridges in his baritone voice.

She?

"And they've already got me working at that," a female voice said, a touch of humour in her tone. "Nice to meet you, Matthew."

"N-nice to meet you, too…" he trailed off softly. He'd never had a woman guard before. In his time here, he'd had very little contact with women at all. There had been that one lady doctor, but she had left after only a few weeks. When Matthew had asked, he'd been told that she had found out she was pregnant, and had decided to take on a job closer to her home and family. Understandable, by all means.

Luckily, they reached their destination before anything more had to be said. Matthew could feel the blood rush to his cheeks making them pink, and he hoped they wouldn't notice. Everyone knew he got pretty shy around strangers, maybe they would think he was just nervous. Well, he was actually, but knowing the new guard was a woman made him even more introverted.

In the new Secure Room, his wrists were untied and the blindfold taken off before he was allowed to step into the adjoining room. It was a very homely office, with shelves covered in books, papers littered here and there, leather armchairs, and a very crowded desk. The only windows were high up on the walls so that no one could see in our out, like those in his own room. Behind the desk sat an older man, scraggly hair white and eyes a dulled blue, in scrubs and a white coat. Upon seeing Matthew, his face lit up and all the attention that he had been pouring into the dossier before him shifted to the blond teen in his office.

"Matthew, good morning! New guard?" the man asked, gently leading the boy into one of the armchairs and sitting opposite him. His observation only helped deepen Matthew's blush. So it was that noticeable…He looked away, and simply nodded in confirmation.

The doctor chuckled, pulling a notepad and pen out from one of his pockets, and flipping the small book open to a blank page. "I'm sure you'll get used to him in no time."

"It's a girl this time…" Matthew murmured, barely audible even in the silence of the room. This seemed to pique the man's interest as Matthew saw him lift an eyebrow from the corner of his eye.

"Well, perhaps this will be a good change overall. Now, let's start with what you dreamt about last night."

And so, Matthew described his dream as best he could as the doctor made notes. Their session lasted about an hour, as it always did, during which time they talked about many things. Not once, however, did Matthew mention his feelings about how badly he wanted to know what the dream meant. He trusted this man with his life, and told him everything, so he wasn't quite sure why he didn't tell the doctor about his feelings concerning the dream. It was odd, that was certain, and Matthew needed a bit of time to think up a good causality for his subconscious decision.

As the meeting came to an end, the two said their good-byes, and as Matthew was about to leave the office, he turned around and asked, "Dr. Williams, can I take out a book from the library?"

"Of course, Matthew! The library is open to you at all times." The man's smile was sincere and friendly, and Matthew counted himself lucky for having at least one kind and understanding physician.

"Thank you, Dr. Williams. See you tomorrow."

The walk to the library was uncomfortably quiet, and unfortunately no one was brave enough to break the awkward silence. Once there, Matthew scoured the huge room until he finally found what he was looking for. As he was being escorted back to his room, he traced the raised letters of the book, excited yet somewhat worried about what he might find inside.

Matthew spent the rest of that morning educating himself on the mechanics of dreaming.

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A Note From Blaklite: I had this idea stuck in my head for a while, tried to shake it out, and that didn't work. So I wrote it down instead. This first chapter has actually been done for a few weeks, and I've been struggling this whole time wondering if I should publish it or not. I've decided to go ahead with it to see what you, the readers, think of it. Ultimately, if this story is highly unpopular (or most of you prefer that I stick to finishing my ongoing fics) it will probably get scrapped, at least for a little while. So please review and let me know how you think the story is going every now and then (even quick messages like "this chapter sux" or "OMG MOAR" are highly appreciated) so that I know whether to continue or quit it.

Just warning everyone now, this story is very dark, and will contain much more dark imagery, gore, violence, and angst. It's not a fluffy story in other words (though I will try to include at least somewhat happy parts, just for you guys). So again, please leave a review if you want to see more, or if you'd rather I scrap this and think up something cuter, and happier, and possibly involving bunnies.