Sources: World Poetry: An Anthology of Verse from Antiquity to Our Time, ed. Clifton Fadiman; The Tale of Genji; The White Pony: An Anthology of Chinese Poetry, ed. Robert Payne

Chronology: "Man Down"

Prince Otsu, Kaifuso 7, trans. Burton Watson:

The golden crow lights on the western huts;
Evening drums beat out the shortness of life.
There are no inns on the road to the grave.
Whose is the house I go to tonight?

Eric gained awareness gradually. His mind a caliginous fog from pain killers and head trauma, he didn't know where he was. He couldn't remember what had happened, but he knew it wasn't good. He felt dizzy, disoriented, desolate. An eternal haze of pain and fear. Was he dying? Was he dead? Was this hell?

He realized he was touching something. There was something in his hand. Something solid, the first external sensation connecting him back to reality. It felt like a chain. A necklace. A pendant. His fingers tightened on it enough to make out the familiar corners of a cross. So he wasn't dead. He focused on it and wordlessly prayed. He wasn't even sure what he was praying for, but it helped stave off the panic.

From the touch of the cross, he was able to locate his hand. From there, he found his arm. Little by little, his proprioception returned and his sense of helpless vertigo abated.

Then there was a voice. "Hey. It's me, Calleigh."

Of course it was. He would know and trust that voice anywhere.

He found his voice and spoke. "Cal."

"You look good," she said.

A clumsy smile crooked his lips. He was sure she was lying, but it was so good to hear her voice. With her there, he was sure nothing bad could happen to him.

"Your, um, your parents are on their way and they're gonna be here real soon. And Horatio was here. And Alexx," he heard her say.

He smiled. Marisol would probably also be coming. She was always looking out for him. Maybe she was already there. "Where's my sister?"

"What?" Calleigh asked.

"Marisol." How could she not know that? Marisol had to be there somewhere. Was something wrong? "Where's my sister?" His fear was growing again. When he tried to speak, his lips felt dry and sticky. "I wanna see my sister."

She was quiet for what seemed like a long time. "Hey," she whispered, "why don't you rest?"

He felt her hand gently squeeze his shoulder. He opened his eyes enough to see he was in a hospital room. He must have been in some kind of accident. Rest was probably a good idea. He closed his eyes again.

"Just rest."

Why did she sound so sad? He didn't have much time to wonder; sleep enfolded him in seconds.

Calleigh blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep herself from crying. What was wrong with him? Why had he asked for his dead sister?

Murasaki Shikibu:

Deceive yourself not into thinking them autumn showers,
These tears I weep in hopeless longing to see you.

Alexx was waiting for her outside the room.

"You okay?" she asked with concern when she saw Calleigh's face.

She nodded, offering a small, unconvincing smile.

Alexx let it go for the moment. She handed her the small bag containing a tiny metal fragment. It was bloody. Eric's blood. "It's what they could get of the bullet. I have to warn you, it's not much. The rest is lodged in his temporal lobe." She didn't mean to make it sound so serious, but she wanted to explain why the doctors had decided it would be too risky to extract the rest of it. Saving a life took precedence over solving a case. Always. She was sure Calleigh would agree, in this case especially.

Calleigh looked at it, and then back at Alexx. "He's different," she said softly, asking for reassurance, or at least an explanation.

"I tried to catch you before you went in. Patients with a hematoma, like Eric's, loss of oxygen...deficits are natural."

"Like what?"

"Compromised motor skills, slow speech..."

Calleigh nodded. Her face was a mask, and she almost managed to keep her voice from betraying her fear, but anyone who knew her well would be able to see that she was deeply troubled, and struggling to keep it inside. "He thinks Marisol is still alive."

"Memory loss," Alexx stated, nodding slightly. Another not uncommon side-effect.

"So what's going to happen?"

"It already has, honey. He just might not be the Eric we know him to be."

Calleigh nodded, and looked through the window to where Eric now slept. She didn't trust herself to speak. She'd been so afraid he would die that she hadn't thought about the other possible repercussions. How much of his personality had been destroyed by that bullet? What would be left of him when he awoke? Would he be able to walk? Be able to function? Be able to go back to work? Would he want to? How much else had he forgotten? Eric...her dear friend, invaluable colleague, her partner...if he wasn't the Eric she knew, who was he now?

Had she lost her Eric after all?

Li Yu, trans. Hsiung Ting:

Silent and alone I climb the west tower.
The moon is like a hook.
Desolate wu-t'ung trees in the shady courtyard imprison clear autumn.
Cut, and not severed,
Disentangled, not unraveled;
The sorrow of parting
Is a strange and unknown flavor in the heart.