Author, here. I'd like to thank my sister for her minimal editing of the work, my friend from work for reading the snippets I wrote, and myself for keeping this idea in my head and letting it fester into this jumble of words. Hope you enjoy! Maybe I'll start posting this elsewhere, too.

Disclaimer: Do I look like I created these characters? No? Good, because I didn't. Pixar/Disney owns them.

Prologue: Re-

Fading music rode wind to a quiet clearing, a campsite decorated in colorful caravans. From red to black to green and blue, they each reflected the moonlight as gems would any light. Cheery and colorful as the sight was, it wasn't so for the owners of the caravans. Solemnly, a group of nine drifted to the camp, burnt, bruised or simply disgruntled. In the distance behind them stood a magnificent red and white tent, but there was no music nor laughter.

Evidently, they were performers who had just finished a lackluster day. Manto the Magnificent might even call it disastrous, and it was, seeing as he was still picking crushed fruit from his graying hair. He felt his wife, his lovely assistant Gypsy, take his hand and he smiled appreciatively. Her undying support was always welcome, especially after a yet another day as a failure in entertainment.

As the group prepared to part once they passed the first caravan, Gypsy jumped. Everyone looked to her when they noticed her—and Manny's—sudden stop. The feathers in her hair stood upright as she pointed to a motionless mass lying next to the fire pit. "There's someone there!" she whispered, and they all gathered to take a look.

In the light of the full moon which turned the world silver, there was no mistaking the broken boy lying face-up in the middle of their camp. Upon closer inspection, it was clear he wore some rather fine clothes, based solely on their long and flowing shape. He was also strangely clean, aside from the dirt clinging to his outline, and no one could deny he had been placed there rather than dropped or dragged. On the other hand, he was also covered in bruises and scratches, a canvas full of errors.

"Oh, Dim, don't look!" Rosie covered the eyes of the curious rhinoceros, leading him away as quickly as she could. In the quiet of the scene, her six legs made rhythmic taps on the dirt ground.

Next, Francis circled the unconscious teenager, lips pursed and eyebrows furrowed. "Somebody did a number on this kid." He pushed away two curious small men, Tuck and Roll, both of whom chattered in a language none of them knew, as they got a little too close. "Hey, back off! Give him some space."

When he himself stepped back, Slim stood in his place. He knelt down and then bent his torso even further to get a closer look. The tower of a man raised an eyebrow at the contradiction before him. "Do you think someone dropped him off here?"

"Abandoned?" gasped Gypsy. Her hand tightened its hold on her husband's, and soon she was the one being comforted. "Oh, the poor thing!"

"Vat if his parents are looking for him?" Heimlich asked from the side, shuffling around the others to get a better look.

"Heimlich is right. We cannot assume he doesn't have loved ones out there," Manny acknowledged. Indeed, the boy was dropped there, but anyone could have done it. They had to choose their next actions wisely. "We should look for his family."

Francis crossed his arms, eyes furrowed. "P.T. won't let us take a day off to help some kid, and tomorrow is our last day!"

"Then we must start tonight."

"And if he's not from around here? Or if he doesn't have any family?"

"P.T. will never take him in!" Slim fretted.

"Maybe he won't, but we can," supplied Rosie as she returned. "I'm sure he won't mind so long as he doesn't have to pay." She stood over the boy and drew silk from her fingers to weave into a blanket.

"How's that gonna work? He doesn't even pay us squat!"

"Ssh! He's waking up!"

Everyone backed off once they heard a groan and the teenager's eyelids clenched and fluttered. His breathing then became shallow and heavy, and he put a hand to his heart, a fist balling over it as if to pull it out. When he finally did open his eyes and notice the spectators, his face became fearful and he scrambled to get to his feet. He had only managed to get to his knees when he slipped, too weak to support his frame, and yet he tried to crawl away. The poor thing barely got anywhere, fingers making trails in the dirt as he tried in vain to put some distance between him and the troupe.

"Don't push yourself, honey." Rosie set the unfinished blanket aside and slowly made her way towards him. She stood near him, kneeling down so as to not look so intimidating. When the boy became still, and his breathing slowed to a relatively smooth rhythm, she extended her hand to help him up. "Are you all right? The ground isn't a very comfortable place to sleep."

Hesitant and wary, the young man took the hand and leaned on her. He began to truly relax when it was clear no one would harm him. "I-I'm sorry." His voice was hoarse, evidence that he had once been screaming. "I wasn't being a bother, was I?"

"No, you weren't, don't worry," Gypsy assured, giving a gentle smile. "We were just concerned about you. Do you have family somewhere?" She dared to get close, certain that the lost boy would feel less threatened when approached by women. "We can help you get home, if you'd like."

His face contorted with pain and he gripped the spot over his heart once more. "I… I don't know." While his eyes didn't quite widen, absolute horror and grief began to materialize there. "I don't know anything." With this revelation, he began to hyperventilate again and both hands grabbed at his hair.

"There, there, it'll be okay," Slim tried to comfort him, though awkward in his attempts. He pulled the teenager's hands from his head so he wouldn't hurt himself. "You might merely be in shock. Let's start with something simple, like a name. Surely you remember your name."

Suddenly, the boy had a faraway look in his eyes, and the moonlight soon started reflecting off falling tears. Hurriedly, he tried to wipe them away. "I'm sorry... I don't know what's gotten into me." He tried to laugh it off, but it was so dry, so forced, so empty. "I really don't…"

Manny stepped forward and raised his hand. "That is enough, child. Rest now." Floating his hand over the boy's eyes, he cast a spell of sleep. As soon as their souls met, the magician was struck with a horrible sting and he staggered back, cutting off the connection.

"Manny!" Gypsy caught him, and kept him standing. "What's wrong? You look so pale."

Indeed, his eyes had become haunted. He breathed shakily as one would after waking from a nightmare. "Oh, the pain…" Manny closed his eyes to rest at least one of his senses. "The boy has been afflicted with such a terrible curse." He had glimpsed it: a manifestation so wilted, torn, and ragged; floating in the void that was the boy's heart. There was no mistaking what had happened to him. "Dying Memory. What a cruel fate."

"Dying Memory?! But that's—"

"Anysing but zat!"

"Now we really can't leave him alone."

"Is there really nothing left?"

When he had recovered, Manny pulled away from his wife and raised a hand over the unconscious teenager. Thankfully, that one cast had been enough to send him back into slumber. "There may be nothing, but I will search." The magician quivered slightly as he began to reconnect their souls, and he heard the boy's soft breathing become labored as a result.

There was the pain again, but he was ready for it. Soon, he saw a void sprinkled with shattered pieces of a soul. There were no memories among these pieces, nothing outside of the basics of living and possible personality. When the soul comes back together, it would be so small; the boy would be so sickly.

In the deafening silence, there broke a single chime. It worried him how faint, small, and far away it sounded. When it came again a few seconds later, it was even fainter and weaker: a persevering memory on its last legs. There was no way he would be able to reach it before it was gone, but he pushed through regardless for the chance to catch something.

The ache that persisted in the void suddenly disappeared as Manny found himself back in the real world. His legs shook as he struggled to stand, and once more he leaned on Gypsy for support. "I found it… just in time. A single name," he breathed, and the others surrounded him to hear what he had to say. "It was so corrupted, but it was there."

"Well, get to it. What's the name?"

"It was..." It took him but a moment to gather his bearings, to recover enough to speak again. "...Flik."