He didn't know how he'd ended up in the dimly lit back alleyway, a woman he'd first met and spoken to for maybe five minutes pinned between him and the dingy wall of the nearest building, his hands roaming her smooth, pale flesh while their lips pressed together as though they were trying to meld into one being. He didn't know why he was in this strange, dark city where the sun never truly rose, when his memory clearly told him he was born and raised in some place far grungier; a tempestuous industrial wasteland. And he most certainly didn't know why this woman before him was so familiar, and not just in appearance... but the way she smelled, she tasted... that gasp she made as he entered her (when had their pants been removed...?) was too familiar, as was the sudden watery feeling in his knees at the action. It was the strangest case of deja vu he'd ever recalled or heard of.

Another thing he didn't know was the woman he had pressed against the wall was feeling exactly the same way.

Though the rational thought in his mind had mostly veiled itself behind a thick, sudden, foggy layer of lust the instant before he'd lunged at her and pinned her to the wall, some part of his, perhaps guilty, conscious questioned his actions. Why was he so suddenly, and so violently attracted to this woman? And why was he now, for all intents and purposes, fucking her against a wall in a shady alleyway, when the only thing he knew about her was her name- Lucidia- that she had the most beautifully blue eyes he'd ever seen, and equally as stunning golden-red hair? But what might have been the most important question of all was... why was she letting him do it? She'd not put an ounce of resistance up, and in fact had fully accepted and returned his sudden advances as though whatever had suddenly possessed him also had an effect on her.

It had all began two, maybe three weeks ago, yeah, that was about right. He was dreaming, he must have been. The soft sounds of a guitar melody had drifted into his ears, and he instinctively walked through the strange, middle-gray space to find the source. It took him a few moments, but he'd found it, a mirror framed with strange, twisted vine-like designs in intertwining black and white. He approached the mirror carefully, watching as his own reflection walked forward to meet him. But there was something wrong there. The reflection was holding some sort of large blue instrument that he thought might have been a sitar, and when he glanced at his hand he held nothing. The hair was all wrong, too. He'd never shaved the sides of his head in his life, and spiking it up like that looked both ridiculous and somehow fitting at the same time. But... whatever was in the mirror had to be him: the eyes, the jaw line, the basic body shape was exactly as he remembered himself looking.

Carefully, he reached a hand out, and the reflection followed on cue. His fingers met something cool and smooth, glass. Then it had to be a mirror.

The illusion was shattered when the reflection crossed its arms and smirked at him. It spoke in his voice and not his voice all at once. "Hello, Ethan."

He screamed, jolting backwards and landing on the cold ground. The reflection didn't follow him, it just chuckled.

"You look scared! Stand up, I can't bite you."

Carefully doing as he was told, Ethan swallowed hard against the cold lump of fear lodged in his throat. The reflection shifted position slightly, wrapping its arms around the neck of the sitar and leaning on it. "How does it feel to be back?"

"... Back...?" Ethan tested, not sure if he could speak. He was surprised that he could.

"Yeah, back. Man, you have no idea how great this feels."

"... what feels?"

"A pulse, emotions, things like that," the reflection laughed, lightly running its fingers over the strings of the gaudy blue instrument.

Ethan shook his head, hard, surprised when it hurt. Wasn't there not supposed to be pain in dreams?

"Careful. I don't know how stable everything is yet," the reflection said, kneeling down before the glass separating them and pressing its palm into it.

"What... what's going on?" Ethan stuttered. He was afraid, something that hardly ever happened, but so far the dream had proven to be anything but.

"Let me ask you something first. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Uh... I was... taking a shortcut through the park on my way to the liquor store get some more booze. Man that party rocked... anyway, I'm just getting past the lake when the fucking shadows jumped out and started chasing me. Something hit me and knocked me into the lake and... my chest hurt. Then I blacked out but... it feels like there should be more to the story," he pressed his palm to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut.

"That's because there is, but... the memories have to be withheld. Sorry, but our heart is too exhausted to fully take the brunt of them right now. It managed to keep us alive for this long, after all."

"...Us? Us who?" Ethan said, standing up to glare at his reflection. Now he wasn't so scared as he was angry. From somewhere in the distance, the low ringing of a large bell could be heard.

"Our speaking time's running out. Be a good boy, lay off the fucking booze or I swear I will ream you... I don't think I can save your ass again. And one more thing, Ethan. If you meet a woman named Lucidia, keep her close. She's more precious to you than you know. And me as well," the reflection said sternly, raising its voice as the bell got louder. The air around them began to crack, long fissures running through the very fabric of existence.

"What are you talking about?"

Time to wake up, Ethan.

The bell noise had become so loud he'd jolted upright, instantly regretting it as a sharp pain spread from his chest through his entire body, it seemed like every heartbeat was a struggle for the organ, and he didn't know why. Drugs? Too much alcohol? Something had caused it. And what about that dream, why did he remember it so vividly?

He'd awoken in a violently red room, a cool, wet cloth sitting in his lap from his sudden, violent righting of his position.

"Woah, lay back down, it was just a bad dream," a stern female voice commanded him, and knowing he was in no shape to argue, Ethan laid back down. His eyes finally came into focus a moment later, and he looked over. Bent over a small basin of water was a young woman, her dark eyebrows arched and equally dark eyes wide in surprise. "I'm surprised you're awake."

"Where am I?" Waking up in a strange place was not new to him, spending most of his formative years as an alcoholic had made him used to it, but this whole place had a different feel than the city he was used to.

"Traverse Town," the woman had answered as she wrung a clean cloth out over the basin. "I found you in a back alleyway, but I haven't seen you around before. What's your name?"

He groaned, trying to think of it. "It's De-" No. Another groan as a sharp pain hit him right behind the eyes. "Ethan. My name is Ethan Medy."

The woman raised an eyebrow as if she didn't believe him, but accepted his answer anyway. "Alright, Ethan, let me introduce myself. My name is Mari Silverton." Finally done wringing the cloth out, she returned to his bedside and removed the old cloth, placing the new one on his forehead and taking the old one back to the basin. "And where are you from?"

"Southern Heights, where else? Never heard of 'Spiral of Indifference' before? I'm lead guitar and backup vocalist for the band," he commented, following the woman's movements with his eyes. Even though his brain seemed to be no more than a dull, aching mush and his chest felt like he was about to suffer a heart attack, he couldn't resist... admiring her beauty.

"No. And I've never heard of Southern Heights, either," she stated quietly, washing the cloth.

"Oh come on, it's only one of the biggest districts in..." he blanked, eyebrows raising as he turned to look back at the ceiling. He could remember the district of the city, but not the city's name itself, and thinking about it too hard made his head hurt. "Shit, that was some night out! I can't even remember the name of the city I'm from. How freaky. Whatever the case, this must be some backwater district to never have heard of Southern Heights." One hand came up to cradle his forehead, and he almost immediately regretted it, grunting at the pain in his chest.

"Ethan, let me explain some things to you. No one here has heard of Southern Heights because this isn't a part of your world," Mari began, catching and maintaining eye contact with him. "Traverse Town is the place people end up when their worlds have been destroyed."

"Destroyed? Ha, sure. The military there was such a bunch of overfunded hardasses, nothing could've destroyed it," Ethan laughed, and regretted it almost immediately as his chest tightened and throbbed.

"It's not the military that concerns me. As far as Gepetto has told me, the worlds stopped disappearing well over a year ago. Which means you were either suspended for a very long time between worlds, or something else happened entirely. I'm going to bet on the latter of those two," she finished with the cloth, drying her hands on a towel before approaching the bed again.

"There's something else I have to tell you... it's about your heart. When I first listened to your pulse, I have to admit, it was all over the place. It kinda... this is going to sound really strange, but it sounded like your heart was trying to remember how to work again."

Instinctively, Ethan's hand shot to his neck, pressing two fingers against his pulse point. His heart thudded healthily beneath them.

"Oh, it's fine now," Mari continued, nodding. "But at first it was all over the place. I thought you were going to die."

"Well, it does hurt," he said, moving his hand back down to massage his chest, he debated making it seem worse than it was. "My chest, I mean. It just sorta aches when I breathe in."

"Then, if I may. Before I... came to Traverse Town, I was a nurse. If I may please request you spend the next couple days in bed and not move around a lot, I believe you'll be ok to go in no time," she said.

"Only if you check up on me often, nurse," Ethan replied with a flirtatious grin. When she returned the smile, something triumphant flashed through his eyes. He'd hooked her. Now, if only he could do something about it.

"I couldn't just leave you. I'd be too worried," she turned away from him and sighed. "Well, I'll leave you to get some rest. I'll be back in a few hours if you're still awake."

From there, he'd listened to the nurse's suggestion. Not that he had much of a choice- he'd tried to get up, only to land back on the bed with a case of vertigo so bad he'd nearly lost what little was in his stomach. By evening, and having to (as he stated, muttering under his breath) 'piss like a racehorse', he'd managed to figure out a way to stand up without feeling too horrible and relieve himself.

The next few days were an exercise in fever dreams, odd heart palpitations, and vertigo, punctuated here and there by clear spells and frequent visitations from the nurse, and when the last two coincided, Ethan spent his time flirting and generally trying to entice the pretty young nurse into the bed.

Nearly a week later, she finally let him leave the room on his own, and took him on a short tour of the hotel. He was surprised that was the kind of place he was in, and she told him it was their impromptu hospital due to the fact that not only did everyone remaining in the town have their own home with room to spare, the world never got any real visitors, and it didn't have its own hospital.

It only took him a few more days from there, flirting modestly and being as charming and gentlemanly as he could, to get her finally to open her legs for him. Unfortunately, for some reason, it was one of the single least satisfying experiences he'd ever had. Not that her performance was bad, nor did he not think her attractive, but there was just something that felt so empty and wrong that he'd barely receive more satisfaction from masturbating.

Mari, on the other hand, seemed to be very satisfied and had cuddled up to him for the remainder of the night, sleeping soundly on his shoulder. He didn't fall asleep at all.

The next morning found the nurse offering to take him on a full tour of the town, and he happily agreed. All he knew was he had spent the last couple weeks in a hotel room being nursed back to health and the waterway behind it was a real bastard wannabe sewer thing.

Their trek took them from the Second District (as Mari had called it) into the First. She said the place was the main meeting grounds for what was left of the Town's population. She'd explained to him that when the worlds were restored, most of the people left, but a few stayed behind to continue working in this world because it was a new, fresh start for their lives. She was explaining how the 'government' in the sense worked in the small community as they walked around the back of the items shop.

And that's when Ethan saw her. The very sight stopped him completely in his tracks, his breathing and heart even seemed to pause at the sight. She was standing completely nonchalant, leaning against the light pole in the center of the plaza, examining her nails like she had absolutely nothing else to do. Not only that, she had to be the single most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and that was saying something coming from a semi-famous rock star who was, if he did say so himself, fairly well renowned for being a lady's man.

His breathing and heart began again, but his eyes wouldn't look away, staring unblinking as though the slightest deviation of his attention and she would disappear. A slight breeze picked up, rustling her shoulder-length, ruddy gold hair, loosening a couple strands from their precarious position tucked behind her ear. Almost unconsciously, she reached up and returned the strands to their rightful place, but in doing so, something else caught her eye. Something near Ethan, and she looked in his direction, eyes grazing across him as she did so. But then, just as quickly as they passed him over, they locked back on, catching his own eyes.

Shock was the first thing he could see register, followed by a brief flash of recognition and then... confusion. It was the very same thing he'd felt. So it wasn't coincidence, he and the woman had met before.

"...Ethan?"

Mari's voice broke his concentration, and the eye contact as he turned to look at her. "Yes?"

Mari nodded back down to the plaza briefly, before regarding him with a smile. "Now I know that wasn't coincidence. You know her?"

Ethan blinked, and looked down at the lamp. The woman had shifted position, she wasn't staring at him anymore, and in fact looked like she was getting ready to leave.

"Yes..." he whispered, mesmerized again. At least, until his brain caught up with his mouth. "... no. No... I have this feeling like I know her... but I can't think of how or why."

"Well, she did show up about a week before you did. Similar symptoms, as well."

Ethan's gaze returned to Mari, eyebrows raised.

The nurse nodded softly, and then let a gentle smile grace her lips. "... She recovered, much the same as you did. When you showed up, I thought the incidents might be related, but I couldn't be sure. Now I know they were..." She sighed, and when she spoke again, her voice betrayed the slightest hint of pain. "... ah, you weren't really interested in me, anyway. Go, Ethan. She's leaving, don't wanna be... left behind do you?"

He didn't need any more encouragement, he just sprinted after the rapidly retreating form of the woman who had struck his interest, leaping the low wall with the grace and ease of a skilled fence-hopper, landing on a mailbox below, and leaping off it without missing a beat. The door to the Third District had already closed by then, and he slammed into it a bit harder than he'd meant to, impacting with a low thud and forcing the surprisingly light doors open rapidly, hard enough they hit their frame with a loud crack.

The woman ahead of him whirled around, shrinking back slightly into a defensive position. He paused immediately, like a deer caught in headlights, before holding his hands up. "I... I'm sorry... but have we met before?"

She seemed to relax, but only a little, and only because he hadn't advanced any farther. There was a good twenty or more feet between them.

She narrowed her eyes, then cocked her head. "... I don't... think so... but..."

"But..." He nodded as though understanding. "Maybe a name would help. I'm Ethan Medy. More commonly known as 'The Nightmare' Medy."

She paused again, folding her arms over her chest and looking down at the ground, muttering the name to herself and ignoring the fact that he looked more like a lost little boy than someone who warranted the nickname 'The Nightmare'. No, the name wasn't ringing a bell, strange as it was. Meh-dye? She looked at him again. "How's that spelled?"

"M-e-d-y..."

Again, she thought it over, but came up empty with a shrug. "No, never seen it on paperwork either, that I can remember. Then again, I've seen a lot of paperwork, and there were a lot of people in the kingdom."

He blinked. "... Kingdom?"

A strange, uneasy silence followed them. "... you're not from Fiala?"

He shook his head. "No... Southern Heights... New Lanceston."

Another awkward silence.

"... so then how do you know me? And how do I know you?"

Ethan took a step forward, and she didn't move, so he slowly closed the distance between them until it was down to arms length. They spent a moment, green eyes locked to blue, looking for their answer, and yet did not find it. Finally, he broke the shared look to see the rest of her more clearly. Her posture was nearly immaculate though her arms remained crossed, as though she was held up by a single string at the center of her head. Combined with her general, physical appearance- straight, red-blonde hair with a healthy sheen, and her incredibly pale complexion, she reeked of wealth. Grammar school, etiquette school, she'd probably been run through the gauntlet of snobby, expensive schools to teach her how to be a 'proper lady'. But there was something off...

"... your name?"

She blinked, frowning as though she wasn't expecting him to speak, and as such didn't hear the words.

"What is your name, maybe I can recognize it?" he repeated, bringing back the eye contact they'd shared earlier.

"Lucidia... Lucidia anir F'ialgrim," she responded, forgetting she'd ever had a pseudonym, and instantly realizing her mistake.

"... What a... fancy name. Unfortunately, I don't know it, and I'd remember the name of someone... a name like that. So, Lucy, where ya headed?" He leaned back, imitating her pose with a much more relaxed one. He had money, too, but he hadn't been born into it.

She frowned, "My friends and family are the only ones allowed to call me that."

Ethan shrugged in response. "Well then, Lucidia, where are you going?"

She 'humphed' and backed up a step. "And why should I tell you?"

He shrugged, closing his eyes. "Well, there's this strange little coincidence that we seem to know each other somehow, though we're not even from the same place. I mean, come on... where I'm from, a name like that would get you beaten up in elementary school, and shunned throughout high school."

Lucidia seemed to ruffle at that, one side of her lip pulling back into an angry sneer. "Yeah, well. At least I don't have a common name. It's more interesting to be distinguished... and not have a nickname that sounds like a rock band reject."

It was then Ethan re-opened his eyes, triumph glowing in the sea-colored depths. He was right. She'd been run through the gauntlet of prissy schools, but either her teachers were no good at what they did, or she had rebelled against the teachings in one way or another. Her posture wasn't quite perfect, and her speech was far from well-to-do and over enunciated, especially now. Besides, no dignified upperclassman would ever be caught with such a show of inelegant anger.

Then, Ethan knew. He really, really liked her. He held his hand out, clearly wanting to shake hers. "Truce?"

Her reaction was just what he'd expected; utter surprise. "Wha...?" She regarded his hand for a moment, looked back to his face, and slowly uncrossed her arms. Her hand was a lot like the rest of her, warm and soft, but a firm grip and, if he wasn't mistaken, there were old calluses on the top of her palm; tougher than first appearances would suggest.

Three minutes they'd been talking, and he already knew quite a bit about her.

"Well then, my first question still stands. Are you heading anywhere in particular?"

She sighed and shrugged. "Probably to the old wizard's house. It's a nice place to be for peace and quiet." Somehow, Ethan knew she was talking about him.

"Then before you go, let me ask one more thing. Can you take a compliment?"

Lucidia refolded her arms, and for a moment, there was a spike in the tension. And then... she tilted her head back slightly and laughed, before, still laughing, curling back forward and trying to cover it with her hand. When the episode had passed, she looked back up, moisture gathered in the corners of her eyes from mirth. "Are you asking permission to flirt with me?"

He smirked. "Answer my question and I might answer yours."

She shook her head and chuckled again. "Alright, fine. You've got thirty seconds to impress me, Ethan. Ready? Flirt."

Without another word, he reached up slowly, both hands moving towards her face. She stiffened slightly, but relaxed when both simply rested on either side of her jaw, cupping her face. Alright, a strange approach, but she'd humor him.

His next action was to lean down and forward, and for a moment she thought he was going to kiss her. But no, his posture was not that, in fact all he did was rest his forehead against hers. And that, that was almost as bad as if he'd actually kissed her. Her breathing caught, and she felt warmth rise to her cheeks. What in the world was he doing? She couldn't tell now, he'd closed his eyes the moment they'd made contact.

For a long moment they stood there like that, and for that time Lucidia found herself less confused and more... well, she wasn't sure what to call it. Relaxed maybe. Almost... content, really. That was it... she was enjoying the contact they shared, as little as it was, and as strange as it may have sounded that she was enjoying such a thing with a man she'd barely met a few minutes ago. Her eyes slid closed, and a slight sigh escaped her. Whatever strange manner of flirting this was, it was working.

More time passed, and Lucidia found herself opening her mouth to speak when the man before her suddenly tipped his head back, and brushed his lips over hers. The contact sent warmth tingling through her entire body.

"Shhh..." he breathed against her lips, and this time the heat caused her to shudder. Oh... what was he doing to her now? This wasn't just flirting. This was something else, something that drew her closer to him, caused her to step forward until she was pushed up against him, and caused her to capture his lips with hers again, pushing herself up onto her toes to do so.

The second kiss was much like the first, gentle, brief, but with this lingering feeling that she just couldn't describe. And at the same time, it was familiar. It was so very frustratingly familiar. She pushed against him harder, parting lips, exploring him with her tongue.

To Ethan, this was just as frustratingly interesting. The same familiarity she was feeling was reflected in him. The kiss became even less innocent, even more desperate as the two sought a way to figure out the answer why. Though answering the question was not the thing the kiss was doing for him, and such was reflected in the sudden fact that ran through his mind. He needed her. So it was no surprise when he started pushing her towards a small, dark alleyway that lead to a strange door with a flame symbol imprinted on it. He was surprised, however, when she pulled him just as much as he pushed. He'd pinned her against the wall, and that was how it started.

He still didn't know why he was here, why this toughened woman of wealthy blood intrigued him so much, nor why he was fucking her against the building as though he'd not been with a woman in years. Most of all, he still didn't know why she was so familiar and why there was a gray area in his memory- a time between when the shadows had tackled him into the lake and when he had awoken on a bed in this town. What he did know, though, was that there wasn't a coincidence between those two occurrences.

-

A/N: -snarky little smirk- Whah hallo thar darlin'. Guess who's returned.

I don't own these characters. Blah blah. Insert shpiel here. Hell, I only half-own this computer!