Author's note: This story is set quite a few years after the anime as you will find out later since Subaru is older. Since this is an alternate universe fic, ironically finding him back in his actual universe with a different, pretty much opposite premise of the anime. There will be only faint nods to canon material. Canon 'facts' won't really apply here. There are also quite a few OCs introduced in this first chapter but bear with me. I'm hoping this will be okay. My last few attempts at venturing out of my comfort zone material wise didn't work too well. With that being said, on with the story...

Subaru stood on the edge of the busy thoroughfare of the marketplace. Today was a rare, quiet day in his life. A good day spent indulging in the mundane; running simple errands, purchasing food and supplies and other necessities for another day of life here. He allowed himself to relish the happiness.

Thank goodness not all days repeated themselves, starting over again as if no time had passed. At least no time passed for everyone else. But Subaru remembered everything. Sometimes living alone with the memories was extremely painful, an unbearable burden he had no choice but to endure.

Somehow over time he had adjusted to the tortuous reality of his existence, making the best of it, and sometimes finding drops of joy in the constant downpour of physical pain and mental anguish.

Rem appeared across the street carrying a newly filled shopping bag. She waved, a joyful smile on her face. He waved back, thinking about how much he liked to see her smile. When he first met her, neither she nor her twin sister smiled - ever. Not to think too highly of himself, but he would like to give himself a little bit of credit for putting that smile on her face. She took a step out onto the dirt avenue to come to him.

Then something happened. The world blinked. Like a video game glitch, everything slowed down, then stopped entirely. A white flash, followed by blinding darkness. After that an image appeared of another dirt road; narrower, encompassed by grass on both sides, winding into a thicket of trees.

The sight of Rem walking toward him came back into view for only seconds before another burst of light blazed across his vision. The twisting road materialized again. This time he could see beyond the road to a field bordered by a crude wooden plank fence enclosing a field of sunflowers.

"No. Not again," Subaru whispered, a lump forming in his throat.

The last time this happened he was snatched from his world, life as he knew it, and brought here. He had adjusted. He had made a life here. It had been miserable and filled with agony and discomfort both to his body and mind. His emotions were still raw. Over the years he somehow had finally found happiness, no matter how fleeting, here.

Rem reappeared, running across the street to meet him, but she was moving in slow motion. Then she vanished, and he was returned to the unknown rural area. This time sound came with the image. Cows lowing in the distance. Birds tweeting.

"No, please. Please, don't do this," he begged to whatever was making this happen.

Where would he go now? Home? Back to Japan and the life he knew. What if it was some other world he didn't know? He couldn't go through that again.

Rem was closer than before, but her body was no longer proceeding forward. Her limbs moved in jerky, spastic motions like an online video game on the fritz due to internet buffering. Was his life here coming to an end?

"Subaru!" Rem called, her voice echoing, sounding as if it came from a distance although she was right in front of him.

"Rem!" he yelled back, reaching for her.

Then she was gone. He was standing on the empty dirt road alone. The air was warm and humid. Everything was too bright; the sun, the green of the grass, the yellow of the sunflowers. A roaring like that of a great beast, possibly a dragon, filled his ears. But it wasn't a dragon.

The growling sound came from an engine, a truck - a big black truck. The sunlight glinted off of the shiny chrome crash bar covering the front of the grill. He couldn't help but smile at the irony of the truck being equipped with crash bars seconds before the vehicle slammed into him. Well, this was just perfect. Such a typical way to start his life in a new world.

\..'../

"OH MY GOD!" Millie screamed in disbelief as she watched what looked like a human body hurtle through the air.

She stomped both feet on the brake, virtually standing up on it to bring the truck to a stop before she ran over the as of yet unidentified object she prayed wasn't a person. Although she had not been going fast, the dirt was dry and loose causing the truck to slide sideways. Grasping the wheel until her knuckles turned white, sucking in short, fast inhales of air, she tried to gather her hopelessly scattered wits.

Surely she hadn't actually hit a person. She had to be seeing things. It had to be a deer. Those damn things were suicidal, jumping in front of vehicles all of the time out here. That's why she put the crash bars on her truck.

Craning her neck to see through the passenger's side window, plumes of dust swirled around the truck blocking out everything, giving the situation an even more surreal feel. She thought she had seen a person appear, like magic, out of the thin air right in front of her. All of a sudden he was just THERE! But that couldn't have happened.

"Please, let it be a deer," she murmured out loud, her hand shaking as she opened the door.

Sliding from the seat, her jellied knees almost buckled when she hit the ground from her perch in the high truck. Her father had asked her why the hell a girl needed such a big truck. The bigger the better she thought since she lived in the country. Besides...Why should all the best toys be for men alone?

The dust cloud started to clear, being carried away on the hot, steamy Southern summer breeze. Pulling the cell phone from the back pocket of her jeans, she prepared to call 911 as she approached the still man lying on the ground.

He was wearing a black track suit with orange and white accents. She had not knocked him out of his running shoes which she took as a positive sign. His arms and legs didn't seem to be bent at horrifying angles that would indicate compound fractures. She crossed her fingers for no broken bones at all.

There was no blood on the ground behind him or visible on the back of his head which was all she could see presently. His face was turned away so she couldn't see if it was injured.

"I only tapped him so maybe he isn't hurt too badly," she mumbled to herself. But she had hit a human being with her big ass truck!

"911, what is your emergency?" the pleasant voiced and professionally calm operator asked.

"This is Millie Castleberry. I-I hit someone," she said.

"Dammit, Millie! Daddy told you not to get that damn monster truck!" the operator yelled at her.

Seriously? Out of all of the people to answer the phone at emergency services it had to be her sister, Marianne? Living in a small town sucks!, she thought, rolling her eyes and groaning.

"Save it, Sis! I've hit someone! Send Bo quick!" she cried out.

Panic swelled inside her chest, squeezing her heart and lungs. Carefully walking around the body, too afraid to move him, she surveyed the damage to his face.

"What do you mean you hit someone?" her sister asked.

"How many things could I mean? Dammit, Marianne! Call the EMT's!" she screamed.

There was a wide gash on his forehead extending from his hairline down to the top of his nose between his eyebrows. Bruises had already formed on under his eyes and on his cheeks beneath the numerous abrasions.

Dizziness swamped her, driving her to her knees in front of the man on the ground. The stranger appeared to be in his mid twenties. Foreign too. Asian. Japanese maybe? His black hair was dark and glossy, short and standing on end in the front giving her an unhindered view of the deep cut on his forehead. It looked bad. Blood covered the side of his face with crimson streaks that ran through his hair onto the dirt road underneath.

"Oh, god," she gasped, nauseated. She wheezed and gulped for air. There wasn't enough air! She couldn't breathe.

"Breathe, Millie, breathe," her older sister and emergency operator coached her on the line. "You don't need to faint. Bo doesn't have time to tend to you when he gets there. I'm sending Hal too."

"No, not Hal," she begged. Hal was the police chief, and someone she didn't want to see for many reasons. "I don't want to go to jail."

"Don't worry about that now. Everything will be fine," her sister returned, her professionalism slipping and her voice wavering.

"I'm scared. What if he dies? I can't...I can't..."

The man groaned, shifting slightly.

"Don't move!" Millie shouted unintentionally, fearful he might incur further injuries if he tried to move.

"What happened?" he mumbled, his tongue thick and his voice garbled.

"I hit you with my truck. I'm so sorry. You just came out of nowhere. Where the hell did you come from?"

"I don't know."

"Is he awake?" Marianne asked.

"Yes, he's talking," she answered her sister before asking him another question. "What's your name?"

"I don't know," he replied breathlessly. "Where am I?"

Millie, near hysterics, had questions of her own. What was he doing here in the middle of nowhere? How did he get here? Teleportation? Magic? No explanation seemed too outlandish at the moment. However, now was not the time to ask those questions. He didn't even know his name.

"You're in the United States. Tennessee to be exact."

"Ten...Ten...wha -" His voice trailed off. He breathed slow and heavy through his mouth, sending up tiny puffs of dirt with each exhale.

Sirens could be heard in the distance.

"Hush. Stop talking. Save your strength. Help is coming."

"Rem, Rem, where are you?!" he yelled, sounding delirious as if he did not know what he was saying.

"What's a Rem?" she contemplated aloud, not expecting an answer.

His eyes opened, and she saw they were a golden brown. He turned his head slightly, focusing his clouded eyes on her. His forehead folded into accordion like furrows. He appeared to be on the verge of tears.

Millie gasped in surprise when his hand unexpectedly seized hers that had been resting on her knee as she knelt beside him. She bit her lower lip to hold back a cry of pain as he crushed her hand in his with an iron hard grip. At least he was strong. That had to be a good.

"Who am I?" he asked, obviously desperate for an answer.

"I-I d-don't kn-know," she stuttered.

The bones shifted in her hand, rubbing together. She feared he might break them, but she refused to complain. He was probably in severe pain.

"I'm so scared. I'm so scared," he repeated breathlessly, a tear leaking from the corner of his eye to mix with the drying blood on his cheek.

"I'm sorry," she apologized, wanting to touch him to comfort him, but she was too afraid of hurting him more.

The ambulance pulled around her truck, coming to a stop behind them on the grass. The fire truck stopped behind her truck. The police car drove up on the other side. They were completely surrounded, and the vehicles created a dust storm.

Millie leaned over the wounded man to keep as much of the dirt off of him as possible. She bowed her head, pressing her face into his back to keep the dust out of her eyes, nose, and mouth.

"Millie, what have you done?" Hal asked, touching her shoulder to make her look up at him.

He was squatting on the other side of the man. She was unable to read the expression in his eyes due to his mirrored aviator sunglasses shielding them.

"It was an accident. I swear, he just came out of nowhere," she cried, creating muddy streaks in the light coating of dust on her face.

"Who is he?"

"How the hell should I know?!"

"What the hell is a foreigner doing out here?" the policeman muttered in confusion, pushing back his straight brimmed hat typically worn only by State Troopers. "Why the hell is he here?!"

"Good question, Hal. I wish I knew," she snapped.

Millie moved out of the way so Bo and the other EMT could tend to the injured man. They placed a backboard behind him then cautiously rolled him onto his back. He cried out in pain, and Millie jumped, instantly feeling like she might throw up. She watched as they cut open the sleeve of the track suit jacket to enable them to get an IV in place.

"Get in the car, Millie. I'll take you to the hospital," Hal said, straightening his hat over his drawn and haggard face.

He looked old and worn out from being one of only four police officers in their small town. That and keeping busy with plenty of extracurricular activities aged him a bit over the last several years.

"What about my truck?" she asked, following him to the standard black and white police cruiser.

"Leave it. This is a private road leading to your house. No one will come out here." He looked back at the stranger being loaded into the back of the ambulance. "Well, no one should have been out here. Besides, Mike is coming out to gather evidence."

He opened the back door of the vehicle for her. She paused, staring at him in horror.

"Am I under arrest?" she inquired, her face becoming deathly pale.

"No," he sighed in exasperation. "I'll be honest though, Millie, you better hope he lives or the best you can hope for is manslaughter. If he lives, he could still press charges and put your ass in jail."

"Hal, I hope he lives because I don't want to have killed an innocent person, not just to save my own ass," she muttered, sliding into the car.

Millie heard a sound like a fly buzzing in her ear. She had forgotten her sister was on the phone. Raising it to her ear, she braced for the yelling.

"I'm coming to the hospital!" Marianne hollered.

"Please, don't. Besides, you're at work. Hal will be with me," she said, bumping her head against the window as he pulled off. She yelled at him, "Are you trying to give me a concussion?!"

"Sorry," he spat at her in an insincere apology.

God, what a disaster. The day had been wonderful until this point. She had gone to town to sell milk and eggs along with her latest batch of chicks. Business was good. She was getting more financially independent by the day.

Her divorce from Hal was final. She had picked up the official finalized papers at the lawyer's office. Life was getting better all around at last, then this happens.

Millie sighed, daring to lean against the window again. Maybe he could hit a bump and knock her head hard enough to make her forget everything. That would be nice.

If only she could go back in time; or at least start her day over. This morning, she would have stayed in bed longer and drank that second cup of coffee. She would have met her sister for lunch and gone shopping for a dress for her best friend's upcoming wedding. Had she done one thing different, she would not be in her present predicament. If only there were do-over's...if she could go back to a certain point in time in her life...she would do so many things differently.

~\..'../~

Millie shifted on the puffy cushion of the chair in the waiting room. Although the chairs were comfortable, she felt ill at ease, jittery. The mysterious man had been in surgery for two hours. What else was wrong? Organ damage? Internal bleeding? How extensive were his injuries?

"Millie," Hal whispered, placing his hands over hers that were locked together in her lap.

"Don't," she snapped, jumping to her feet. "You can leave, you know. I'm not going anywhere."

"How are you going to get home?" His brilliant blue eyes like those of a husky dog skirted over her from head to toe. "You should go home. Take a shower. You can't do anything for him anyway."

"I'm not leaving until I know something. This is my fault. I'll take responsibility for him whatever that entails. I take responsibility for my mistakes. Unlike some people," she snapped acidly, pausing in her pacing to glare at him.

"I said I'm sorry. That it wouldn't happen again," he muttered, staring at his dusty boots.

"Yeah, well, that's what you said after the first and second affairs. I'm sorry if I'm not sticking around after the third. Three strikes and you're out," she said, walking a path across the room and back.

"You hate baseball," he reminded her, taking a jab at her analogy. "You hate all sports."

"I gave you two too many chances," she continued, ignoring his snarky statement. "You should've been thankful for that. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. I don't know what they say about the third time because people usually aren't that stupid."

A man cleared his throat to get their attention. The surgeon still in his green scrubs and cap, the mask hanging around his neck, stood in the open door to the room.

"You're here for the young man struck by a vehicle?" he asked as if he didn't know.

Why the hell else would they be here? At least he had been nice enough not to say that he was looking for the woman who hit his patient with a truck.

"How is he? Is he going to live?" Millie gushed breathlessly, rushing toward the doctor.

"He will live. It will be a long, slow recovery. No broken bones in the arms or legs. He did have three broken ribs. None punctured his lungs though. There was a small laceration on the liver, but he's healthy so it will heal. His face and head took quite a hit. I sutured that wound on his forehead. There will be a scar. Some things can't be helped. There will be quite a bit of bruising and swelling so his face will look ten times worse than the damage actually is," he explained.

"Any brain damage, Doc?" Hal asked.

"It's too soon to tell," he sighed, snatching the mask from around his neck. "He will need someone to take care of him. He might require physical therapy. We will have to see about his mental state later as well."

"I'll take care of him. This is my fault after all. I owe him that," Millie piped up, determination in her voice.

"But - " Hal tried to protest.

"I used to be a nurse," she reminded her ex-husband. "I had a life before marriage and being a housewife who started her own at home business out of desperation. But I guess you've forgotten that. Kind of like how you often forgot your marriage vows."

The doctor cleared his throat again - loudly.

"Yes, well, I think that arrangement would be just fine. Since you were a nurse, you're exactly the kind of caregiver this young man will need. Before he leaves the hospital, I'll go over a detailed care plan for him. Go home, Millie. Rest. You're going to need it. I'll leave a message for the nurses to call you when he wakes up."

"Thank you, doctor," she said, shaking his hand before he left.

"Millie, you can't!" Hal exclaimed, grabbing her by the arm to turn her around to face him. "You can't take some strange man into your house. You don't know anything about him. He could be a rapist or a killer. Besides, how will it look to everyone?"

"Are you being serious right now?" she scoffed, wrenching her arm out of his grip. "Did you ever stop to think how it would look when you were running around with Beth or Vera or Sateen? Sateen? Really, Hal? Just the name the alone conjures up images that just...ugh!" she growled, shaking her head. "Anyway, you have no right to tell me what to do. Besides, who else will take care of him? And this is my fault."

"Yeah, but - "

"But nothing! Your opinion no longer matters. I'm not your wife, and you're not my problem."

Bo entered the waiting room, glimpsing at each of them in turn. He could feel the tension. Without saying a word, he handed Millie a black wallet.

"We found this on the guy," he said.

Hal attempted to snatch it away from her, but she pivoted on her heel and turned her back to him while keeping the wallet in her possession.

"Hey! I need that so I can contact his next of kin and get him the hell out of here," he said.

The wallet contained an ID she couldn't read and a few paper bills of Japanese currency.

"Well, this is no help," she muttered, sticking it in her back pocket.

"His name is Subaru Natsuki," Bo helpfully supplied. "He's twenty-five years old. That ID was made when he was seventeen. Where the hell has been for eight years? Why did he suddenly drop out of the sky and here? He's Japanese."

"How do you know all that?" Hal asked.

Bo shrugged.

"My buddy Kaito at the fire house is half Japanese. His mother made him learn her language, both written and spoken, growing up. He translated it for me."

Millie's head ached. She could hear her pulse in her ears.

"Why can he speak perfect English?" she asked in return.

"He talked to you?" Hal interjected, obviously feeling left out of the conversation.

"Yeah. Right before Bo got there. He called out for something, or maybe someone, named Rem. None of this makes any sense," she mumbled, pressing her fingers to her pulsating temple.

"I'll take you home," Hal offered, reaching for her. "We should talk more about you taking this guy in. It's not gonna happen."

"Go away, Hal," she muttered, stepping further away from him while taking her phone out of her pocket.

Bo stepped in between her and the ex husband when Hal acted as if he would make another grab for her.

"She's got this handled. You should leave," Bo warned him. "She doesn't need you anymore."

Although shorter than the imposing cop who stood over six feet tall, Bo was wider and stronger. He adhered to a strict daily body building routine in order to easily lift patients of any size for transport. Hal conceded with a nod and left.

"Thank you," she mouthed to Bo while her sister yammered in her ear.

Bo had always been a good friend and her self-appointed protector since high school. The only person he couldn't protect her from was Hal. That was her fault for being unwilling to listen to his repeated warnings about the serial cheater.

"I'll help you get the guest room ready for him," Marianne volunteered.

"Please, just come get me, and take me home," Millie begged, tears filling her eyes. "When I fall apart, I don't want to do it here."

~\..'../~

Around ten o' clock the next morning, while she and her sister were preparing the second bedroom in her small two bedroom house, Millie received the phone call. Still too apprehensive to get behind the wheel, not trusting herself, her sister drove her to the hospital to see the man she had almost accidentally killed.

"Are you okay?" Marianne asked her outside the door to his room.

"Yeah, as good as I can be," she replied, hesitating and breathing deeply.

"I'll be here if you need me," her sister returned, patting her shoulder.

Millie inhaled a gulp of air as if going underwater and walked into the room. The mysterious stranger named Subaru was sitting up in the bed gazing out of the window. When he did not look at her or acknowledge her presence, she followed his line of sight to see what he held his attention.

Two birds, a brightly colored male bluebird with a sapphire head and back and a brown and white chest, along with his female but more mutely colored counterpart, flitted through the branches of the tree outside. The female appeared to be flirting, or performing a mating ritual perhaps. She would sit quietly, allowing him to approach, then flying to another branch when he got close to her. There she would repeat the process, occasionally hopping away when he neared her, before flying away.

"They're bluebirds," Millie said, not knowing how to begin a conversation and not wanting to startle him.

"They're pretty," he returned, continuing to observe them.

"Do you...do you remember anything that happened?" she questioned him, fearful of the answer.

"No," he responded curtly, turning his head to look at her. "The nurses told me I was in an accident. I was hit by a truck. But I don't remember it."

"Yes, that's right. I hit you," she confessed. "You appeared out of nowhere. I don't know where you came from."

"I don't know where I came from either."

His face appeared to fold in on itself. All at once he expressed sorrow and rage, regret and fear, a gamut of emotions that she did not understand - and neither did he for that matter.

Oh, my god, this poor guy is so messed up. It's all my fault!, she screamed at herself inside her head.

"Well, I'll be taking care of you until your body heals and you get your memory back. You'll stay at my house and - "

"Do you have any idea how weird it is that the woman who almost killed me will be helping me recover?" he interrupted her.

"It was an accident." Her face turned the darkest shade of red in shame. "Honest to god, it was as if you appeared like magic."

"Like magic?" he repeated, more confused than ever.

He stared at her, eyeing her thoroughly from head to toe; not in a perverted way but from curiosity. Dressed in a green t-shirt and jeans, the only skin he could see besides her face and neck was her lightly tanned arms. Her dark auburn, almost brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail making it impossible to determine the length which was just below her shoulders.

She looked as if she might burst into tears at any second. Her eyes were green except for a brown ring around the iris. Freckles dotted her nose and cheeks that had lightened to a fuchsia pink color.

She didn't appear to be crazy. He believed her about everything she said.

He could only recall random bits of information, flashes of a place that didn't seem to be real. It was more like a fantasy world filled with mythical creatures and magic. Had this 'other world' only been a dream or a real place located on an entirely different plane of existence?

Faces in his dreams sparked recognition, but he could not remember the names. Each one of those people elicited feelings, stirring up phantoms of emotions like ghosts haunting his mind. They all meant something to him but the meaning was lost because ultimately so was the memory of them.

His mind was like a puzzle that had been dumped out of a box. The pieces were scattered. The big picture of him and his life could not be fathomed. He knew they all fit together, but he had no clue as to how they fit together.

"Just to be clear, you're not my girlfriend?" he queried.

"No!" she replied a little to quickly and vehemently. When his face collapsed in disappointment and possibly humiliation, she swiftly added, "No. You don't know me, and I don't know you. We don't have any kind of a relationship. We just met for the first time yesterday...when I hit you with my truck."

"Sorry, but I don't remember any of that. Accidents happen. I'm sure you couldn't help it," he sighed, staring up at the ceiling. "So...what happens now?"

"You're going to stay with me until you get better. Hopefully you will get your memory back soon. Things are going to be fine," she said, her cheerfulness sounding as forced as it really was.

"I don't know. I don't know if things will ever be fine again," he muttered.

She shared his overwhelming sense of unease and pessimistic view on life.

"Yeah, I know what you mean."

"I have the feeling you really do understand."

"I'll do everything I can to help you get better and regain your memory. At best, the memory loss is temporary, caused by the trauma of the accident."

She silently prayed he wouldn't ask about the worst case scenario.

"By the way, what's your name?" he asked her.

"My name is Millie Castleberry."

"Aaaaannnd what's my name?" he inquired in an obvious attempt to be funny to add levity to the heavy conversation.

"You're Subaru Natsuki," she responded with a smile.

Extending her hand to him in formal greeting, he took it. He flinched at the touch of her rough hand, calloused from manual labor. Her eyes lowered from his, her dark eyelashes fluttering against her pink cheek.

"You're really cute, Millie. Adorable in fact," he complimented her a bit too boldly, making her blush again. "How old are you?"

Her face reddened to a dark crimson, and her indignation rose. She kept a tight rein on her temper as she observed him visibly shrinking into the pillows in retreat.

"Mr. Natsuki, it is not proper to ask a lady her age. I must politely decline to answer," she said in the sweetest drawl, her voice lilting and the words almost hypnotic in the way she spoke them. "I will say, however, we are about the same age."

"How old am I?"

"You're twenty-five," she replied, standing up. She pulled a wallet from her back pocket and handed it to him. "Your identification is in there, but I can't read it. A friend told me what it said"

"Twenty-five! Damn," he muttered, staring at the ID. "Where the hell have I been for eight years?!"

"I'd settle for knowing where you popped in from yesterday."

"Am I older or younger than you?" he brazenly ventured.

"Nice try. We're close in age is all I'll say," she answered vaguely with determination not to reveal her exact age.

"Will I be staying with you?"

"Have you forgotten already?"

"No. Just making sure I understand all of this."

"You'll have your own bedroom and everything. I used to be a nurse, so I assure you, you'll be in good hands."

"I have no doubt," he murmured, smiling broadly at her. When her eyebrow shot up toward her hairline, dubious of his intentions behind that statement, he added, "I'm just glad that you're a nurse. I'm guessing this is a pretty serious condition. Not being able to remember and all."

"Yes, indeed. It is," she agreed, sitting back down.

"You're staying for a while?"

"The least I can do is stick around a bit and keep you company."

"Thank you. I don't want to be alone," he admitted, fiddling with the frayed edge of the blanket.

His eyes met hers, and she smiled. His eyes were so big and sad, giving him a lost puppy look.

Millie could feel her heartstrings being plucked. She felt sorry for him that was all. She stood up, walking around the bed to peer out of the window. Pretending to search for the bluebirds, she avoided looking at him.

"Besides, something might trigger a memory," she said. "A single word, a scent, a color, a sound...who knows what could help you remember something."