Stolen Shell

Chapter 1:

Dreams

Again?she wondered, glancing about the now familiar darkness of her dreamscape. What's with this place, couldn't I dream of somewhere else?

For the past month she'd been plagued by dreams of this place, this void that existed around her. For the first weeks, she'd been alone, wandering into the vast nothingness, whispers that she could barely make out taunting her with every step. And if she had stayed asleep much longer past that point during those nights, she knew that she surely would have gone mad. But no matter how long she strived to stay awake, sleep always came, bringing the pitch scape and the whispers along side it.

Then, not but two weeks before, she started to catch glimpses of snowy white hair, dancing, just behind her line of sight. It was familiar, in a way, and she had no idea why. Shortly after, perhaps a night or two, time blended so perfectly then, she'd seen the strangest pair of eyes. One a glowing red and the other a vibrant green, light and dark at the same time. There was nothing else, though, no other facial features and the blindingly pale hair seemed to hide the rest of the being's body from her sight.

The being's presence seemed to push the whispers into the background of the dark scape, if not silence them altogether, and for those two nights, or was it three, the impending madness she'd begun to feel almost disappeared completely. It faded almost as surely as the whispers had, in that she could no longer feel it but it might still remain, ticking in the back of her consciousness like a clock counting down. She had accepted it, though, content in the silent presence of the white being as it danced in and out of her vision. At least, until a few nights ago ...

She'd barely closed her eyes as she lay utterly exhausted in her make-shift bed, the steady whirr of the ship's massive engines fading as the bliss of unconsciousness crept into her mind. The black behind her eyelids wrapping around her, and even though she knew that she was dreaming, it always felt that she was really there, living in the nothingness of her dreamscape. A short while later, or maybe it was an eternity, the being was there, swaying and disappearing, dancing the endless, taunting waltz in and out of her vision. But it wasn't as infuriating, she had accepted it, just as she had accepted the silent darkness, the being itself, content with its presence.

"Aya ... "

Her eyes snapped in the direction of the whispered form of her nickname. How did it know her name? Was it because her mine had made it so, because this place was just a dream and so too was the being? So she resigned herself to closing her eyes, forcing herself to calm down. It was just a dream, after all.

And for the rest of the night, she was certain she'd just been hearing things, that the whispers meant nothing, for there were no more whispers, from the deep darkness beyond her or from the being. But her resolve was quickly shattered the night after, for the decidedly feminine voice called out to her again. The whispered cries, tortured and devastated from the being in her dream. She'd woken in a cold sweat after only an hour or more of sleep, her breath freezing in her lungs as it rushed in and out of her body in heavy bursts.

All of that leading up to tonight, and she'd tried to keep the being's voice from reaching her, for even when she was awake it haunted her like a ghost. Why was it so familiar, was it even a person or just some figment of her imagination made real in her dreams? Had she finally snapped?

No, she was certain of her sanity, her memories might be lost but not her mind. She could still think rational thoughts after all, which lead her to wonder why such a bright figure met her in the suffocating void of this ... place, if it could even be called such.

The brightness, the beacon, had not yet shown itself to her as she floated in the darkness. It wasn't unusual, she was normally alone in the quiet for either a minute or a lifetime before the snowy hair and glowing eyes would appear, accompanied by that beautiful and horrible voice. She was alone, with only her sanity to keep an unimaginable madness at bay.

What is this place? She found herself wondering, Is it a representation of my life, since I can't remember it? Does it mean that I'm empty?

Before she could further meditate the infinite possibilities, she caught a glimpse of the green eye, framed by flowing locks of snow and liquid silver. And reflexes borne from some thing or time that she couldn't remember, she swirled. And in half the time it took to bat an eyelash, she had a fistful of the silken hair wrapped around her hand, holding it tightly lest it slip through her fingers like water.

The face that met hers was beautiful, sad and delicate and heartbreakingly beautiful. Pale unblemished skin, perfectly positioned cheekbones and an expression that made her want to fall to the ground and sob uncontrollably. Something stirred within her and she didn't recognise it even though she was sure that it had been tied to this being for every day of her life before she'd forgotten, lost her memory to some freak accident.

She closed her eyes, clenched them shut and shook her head; there were answers that she needed, questions that needed to be lain to rest. And when she opened her eyes, the ethereal glow of the being before didn't affect her so, it didn't soak all of her attention like a sponge, but the stirrings within her continued. So she tightened her grip on the hair in her hand, her knuckles turning white at the effort and her nails digging into her palms.

"Who are you?" she demanded, her voice sounding very similar to the being's in her own ears, but vastly different at the same. "What is this place, what does it mean? I need to know!" Her words sank into the darkness like a knife into a bed of crushed velvet cushions. And each agonizing second longer that she held onto the being's hair, looked into the eyes that were tormenting her so terrifyingly at the moment, the stirring started to make her chest ache.

Then something happened that she did not expect, not in her wildest imaginings. Graceful hands with delicate fingers took hold of each side of her face, grasping it gently. The hands of an artist looking over a masterpiece, appreciating the lines and intricacies, that's what it felt like. She swallowed, not sure what to think as the mysterious being brought her closer, guiding her with steady assurance, until she could feel a soft warmth on her cheek.

"Aya," the being breathed, eyes softening. "I've found you."

"Who are you?" she asked, the demand not coming out as rough as she wanted. "How do you know me?" and she ached so much that all her determination had melted into a whisper. Why can't I speak, she wondered, her eyes captivated by the being's own odd-colored gaze, what's happening to me?

"Come to me, Aya, I'll show you the way."

"Who- "

"I need you ..."

She was taken aback, her determination to get her answers dissolved into nothingness at the being's voice. The need, like that of a lost child, or of a lover left all alone ...

"I'll show you the way, Aya. Come to me, I need you."

Then, the glowing being faded, and her grip on it's hair lessened almost subconsciously; she ached so horribly that she couldn't stand. With the being gone, she could name it, the pull on her heart and how she hurt so when that hair and those eyes had captivated her. It was something that she should have never forgotten, of that she was sure. No matter how long she'd slept in the time defying sleep, no matter what other memories had been lost, she knew that it was wrong of her to forget this one. She and the white being had been important to each other and she knew it because the look on it's face matched the ache in her heart. As she sank to her knees in the emptiness of the devoid scape, she clutched her chest with both hands.

It was love.

A/N: I am so sorry it took me so long to finally do something worthwhile to this story. I had school and stuff and A.D.D. and writer's block ... I was a mess. And then, then there was a rabid plot bunny who met the dead plot bunny already living inside my skull. He used a resurrection signet on it and together they procreated, and now I'm so overflowing with ideas that I can't go anywhere without a pen and paper lest I should forget a good idea. I kid you not, you can ask those who live with me, it's horrible. BUT! I have done something, and I've even started laying out a plot. So review, review, review! I think I'll start the next chapter ... tomorrow.

Ja ne! -

P.S. - This chapter, and possibly others to come, is dedicated to FoxDragon for the review, it got me off my lazy ass. Thanks so much for reading!