Author's Note: Anyone out there not asking himself what lies beyond? This glimpse comes from a friend who stayed for three days in a coma after an accident. Sephiroth just happened to end up there as well. My fault at that.

Disclaimer: I do not own Final Fantasy or its characters, nor do I seek any profit from this fic.

Noone nowhere

Part 1: Noone

For a long time he just stared at the ceiling without really seeing it. In fact he didn't even know it was a ceiling. He knew nothing. His eyes were just swept by the near-white nothingness above, without a thought, without a purpose. His senses were all in a haze, his self dormant, as if he wasn't even there. Just a human shell laying on a bed in a shady room in a shady building in a shady world that maybe didn't even exist...

Slowly the shady world reached to him and consciousness returned in small unnoticed steps. The blank board became indeed a ceiling, anonymous enough and of a withered white. There was a tiny sound somewhere, far far away as it seemed – a clock maybe, ticking its way through the deep lake of time, or perhaps it was time itself, falling like water, drop by drop from rock to rock...

I don't know where I am. I can assume that it must be a hospital of some kind. Not a very fancy one though. This room I'm in has just two standard beds with metallic bars, the usual nightstands and a little table with a chair. Cheap ones too. The other bed is empty at the moment, but the cover on it is tangled and the sheets crumpled, so it seems I'm not the only inhabitant of the room. Every piece of furniture looks rather old, yet clean, with discoloured surfaces of paint and faded metallic glows in the peeled portions.

I feel like choking and I press my hand on my stomach, coughing repeatedly to clear my throat. I try to sit up on the bed and manage it unexpectedly easy – I had thought I would be unable to move, don't know why. Probably the idea of a hospital is automatedly linked to helplessness. I'm still a little dizzy though, so I grab the metal bar of my bed trying to steady myself until my vision clears enough. My mouth is dry, my breath makes a rasping noise and suddenly the sound in my ear gains substance and I turn around, following it right to the source: a small sink in which the water slowly leaks, drop by drop. There's a glass on my nightstand and I reach for it and stand up carefully, unfolding myself to my entire height and waiting for the next wave of dizziness. It comes, but seems already easier to handle. My eyes sweep over my outfit and I see myself wearing a grey shirt and some loose pants, also grey, of a light fabric. Shoulder-long bangs of hair fall around my face when I lean my head to look at myself and other locks, much longer, drape around my body, almost down to the tiled floor. It's silver. I slide my feet into the plastic slippers next to my bed and take the few steps to the sink to get some water. I seem to do fine. No wavering, no clouds in my vision. My step is firm enough now, though I still feel my knees threatening to buckle sometimes. Leaning against the sink, I turn the tap and let the water fill my glass while I watch my face into the foggy mirror with bleary eyes. I gulp the water hurriedly and fill the glass once more, then pour it down my throat. Then fill it again. Finally, my consuming thirst easies its grip a bit and I sigh, empty glass still in hand and watching aimlessly the water running in the sink. Water. Lots of it. Idly flowing inside my mind, through my ears, my eyes, my whole being. I don't know why. I frown, the little wheels in my head spinning, reaching for each other, trying to fall in place.

Who am I?...

I fill the glass again and place it back on the nightstand, within reach from the bed, then turn for the door. Silver strands flow like water down my back, almost reaching the ankles. My hair. Mine.

That's weird. I can't remember any man with hair as long as mine. But then again, on the other hand I realise I can't remember anyone at all.

Who am I? How did I end up here? I'm not hurt, I feel quite well, there were no medical devices attached to my body or within sight whatsoever and I see noone around. What's this place anyway?...

I turn for the door and leave the room. If there are any answers, they're not here, inside.

Once he was in the corridor he looked both ways. One end seemed to open to a staircase, so he turned that way. There were very few people out and, as he wandered down the long hall, he peered into the wards. They were just like his, nothing unusual to be noticed. Yet, as he was going beyond them, something began to nag at the back of his mind. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

He looked again, from one ward to another. It had something to do with them, he was sure. But...

One man sitting on a bed. He stretched his legs and put on a pair of plastic slippers – identical to his own. The man was wearing a grey night suit, just like him. The nightstand beside the bed was empty. Another room, another man, wearing the same clothes, sitting in the empty ward. And another.

Emptiness... Everywhere.

A ward where two women lay in their beds, without addressing to each other, in total silence. Dressed in identical gowns. Identical slippers on the tiled floor. Nothing on their nightstands. No... flower – flowers! A new concept –, no other clothes, nothing whatsoever.

That was it. There were no personal objects anywhere. Hastily he turned around and strode back to the ward he had woken up in. He went in, walked purposedly to the nightstand next to his bed and snatched the drawer open. Just a toothbrush and two pairs of grey boxer shorts. That was pretty much it.

He moved to the other bed and searched the nightstand. It was the same.

He took a deep breath, then leaned backwards. Walking to the large window, he looked outside.

The view seemed incomprehensible, at first sight. Everything was black, white or in various shades of grey, but he didn't notice that at first, as inside it was the same. Even his skin was ashen, almost matching the colour of his clothes. He just stood there and thought that something was definitely missing. Again, he couldn't name it, nor place it in the picture. Emptiness was slowly creeping its way inside his being and he finally pulled out of the spell and tripped backwards, letting himself fall on the edge of his bed. A wave of helplessness and despair swept over him. He wasn't going to learn who he was. As it seemed, noone knew who they were in this place, somehow he was sure of that. Feeling lost, a barely perceptible sigh left his lips.

He was a nobody.

-------------------------

Music listened: Staind – „Outside"

And you'll be there.