Warnings: Gratuitous nudity and a dash of thievery

Unchained Melody

Chapter 1: Forgotten Lyric

I'm falling, came the man's first aware thought. He could feel the winds twining around his body as it plunged downwards. He'd realized he was falling in the midst of darkness, but that very darkness had lightened. As he fell, he came to realize that if he opened his eyes, he might even find light.

The man found light, but he also found water shimmering orange and gold in a setting sun. The sea came ever closer as his descent continued. With his body at the mercy of the wind, the man forced himself to relax. Though he had little other choice. He was still trying to remember what it was to have a body. He could figure out how he was falling out of the sky if he survived the fall.

Sensing the nearness of the water, the man shut his eyes. On instinct, he gulped down a quick breath just before crashing beneath the waves. Even in the water, his descent continued, but at last it was slowing. The man opened his eyes and peered around to get his bearings. Beneath him, the sea continued on into impenetrable dark depths. Above, he saw light. The man vaguely remembered another sea and another time. That sea had been entirely dark, and he hadn't know which way was up or down. In this sea, however, he struck out towards the light.

Fear of the darkness below kept the man moving. His lungs burned from the lack of air, and his body ached from the fall. Yet little by little, he swam towards the light above until at last his head broke through the surface of the water. The man gulped the air as though it were the sweetest-tasting thing he'd ever encountered.

Until he had the time to figure things out, the man decided it would be best to concentrate on survival first. Against the light of the setting sun, the man saw the silhouette of a city. Though he knew not what he might find there, he knew that it had to be better than waiting to die in the ocean. The one comfort the man had was that the water was warm from the day's sun. Though as darkness fell, the heat would dissipate.

With little other choice, the man began swimming yet again. He fell into a comfortable rhythm, humming to distract his mind from his exhaustion. He knew he'd been in a sea before, and it stood to reason that he had some experience swimming. And yet, he felt as though it had been a lifetime ago. Luck seemed to be with the man as the currents pushed him towards the shore.

Wet sand squished between the man's toes, both gritty and comforting. He crawled to shore to collapse above the tide line. Here the sand was dry, and it clung to his wet body. The sand crept into the nooks and crannies and the man's form and he shifted uncomfortably.

Memory and discomfort prompted the man to raise a hand and concentrate. He expected ribbons of darkness to answer his silent beckoning, curling around his body and clothing him in that self-same darkness. No power stirred at the calling.

"Inconvenient," the man chuckled, pushing himself up. Though he was tired, this was no place to rest; not while he was so exposed. More interesting to the man was his amusement. He was happy. And that happiness out-shone any disappointment he might have felt over not having access to the powers of darkness.

Being cut off from powers that his memories told him he'd once relied on, the man started taking in his surroundings. The beach sprawled all around him, sand and scattered palms. A snack bar, closed for the evening, huddled amongst the small dunes at a safe distance from the water. In the distance he could hear a train. However, the man had no munny for a ticket. Where ever he was, he was starting from scratch, without even clothes on his back.

The town, the man decided, would be his best bet for finding clothing and shelter. The thought of betting roused a new memory of a man with pale blond hair dressed all in black. "Luxord," the man murmured, placing a name to the memory. The memory, however, retreated back into the fog of the man's mind. "Luxord" was a fragment, a piece from the man's life and he tried to recall more. No more recollections came, however.

The man shrugged off a momentary frustration. He felt certain he would remember more in time – who he was, how he'd arrived here. His earliest memories were of darkness, of being nearly nothing. Whatever had happened to him, the man couldn't shake the feeling that he'd almost ceased to exist. All things considered, a fragmented memory was a small price to pay to still be alive.

Again, shrugging off this minor annoyance, the man glanced upward at the town perched upon a hill. He need not hide down on the beach and play castaway. No need existed to build a rude shelter from palm branches and whatever else he could scavenge, especially not when he had a perfectly functioning pair of legs. The thing to do seemed obvious. The man began following the train tracks.

A short way along, the man spotted a splotch of pink upon the sand. A quick investigation yielded a towel abandoned by some careless beach-goer. One man's loss was another man's gain. Grabbing the towel and knotting it around his waist, the man continued onward.

The open-air station came into view. A single-car train waited on the tracks, but the man couldn't spot anyone manning the ticket booth. A shade pulled down most of the way obscured his view inside. No doubt someone was there, but with the beach pretty well abandoned, the ticket salesman might have decided to call it an early night.

Moving as quickly as his tired body would allow, the man dropped down from the platform onto the tracks. He kept low as he moved around to the far side of the train car. The gold-plated railing on the back glistened inviting. The man grabbed on and pulled himself up just enough to rest his feet on the train.

It was in this precarious position that the man found himself as the train lurched into motion. He managed to maintain his grip, but only at the price of his modesty as the towel came fluttering loose. The man couldn't help but laugh at his predicament. "Oh, man! I guess the fates are conspiring to keep me naked."

As awkward as the situation was, at least the man knew he was avoiding any messy confrontations that might have erupted had he tried to force his way onto the train without a ticket. Once safely past the platform, he climbed over the railing to rest against the back of the train car. He felt himself fairly safe as long as none of the train's paying passengers decided they needed a breath of fresh air.

Forests replaced the sand and palms of the beach, and the cool night air raised goosebumps on his bare flesh. He definitely wasn't dressed for the climate, or much of anything else for that matter. He resolved to find himself some clothing as soon as possible.

When the train pulled to a stop at a new platform, the man disembarked in much the same manner as he'd come onboard – stealthily. Or at least, he attempted stealth. "Hey, you! Stop him!" a voice barked out from the ticket booth. Apparently in town they paid more attention than on the beach.

"I'm totally not the right guy for this sort of thing," the man muttered to himself as he took off running. Dashing away from the platform, the man followed the only path available, hurrying down a set of stairs and into into town. Hearing a pursuit behind him, the man ducked and waved through unfamiliar streets.

"This way, ya know!" one of the pursuers shouted.

Though he didn't feel as though he'd done anything wrong, the man somehow doubted his explanation would go over well. Who would honestly believe that he'd fallen out of the sky with no clothes and a memory filled with more holes than a piece of swiss cheese? The only reason he believed it himself was because it'd happened to him.

A bridge ahead crossed over a small canal. The man slid into the chilly water, cowering beneath the shadows under the bridge. Footsteps pounded overhead, and the man sank down as low as he could in the shallow water. A dark face with glowing yellow eyes peered beneath the bridge, fingers clinging tightly to the edge to prevent him from falling in. "Please," the man mouthed silently, pulling back deeper in the shadows. "Leave me alone."

The creature nodded, it's over-sized hat nearly falling in the water from the motion. It moved out of sight, and moments later a childish voice called out, "No one over here, Seifer!"

"Gone!" a young woman announced sharply.

The man waited until the only sound he heard was the water rushing by. Only then did he crawl out from under the bridge. He peered around cautiously, ready to flee if he saw anyone. Fortunately, the streets were empty. Quiet houses lined the street. Most importantly, some of the houses had clothes strung out to dry. In a relatively short amount of time, the man acquired a pair of slightly too large brown trousers and a blue shirt – both still slightly damp. He was starting to despair of ever being dry.

Not wanting to sleep out in the open, the man began exploring. Now that he wasn't being chased, he felt free to take his time. He started by following the canal, enjoying the soothing babble of the water. An overlook ahead drew his attention. The man hurried over and peered out. Far below, he could see the beach. The view from above made him glad he'd taken the train. Walking would have taken forever.

The man turned to continue his search and yelped as he saw someone right beside. "Hey, whoa! Don't sneak up on a guy like that!" he exclaimed, waving his hands frantically. He'd half-expected that this person was about to corner him about his stolen clothes. And then he realized that the person was performing the same frantic waving. The man went still and the person went still. It was a reflection in a wall of cascading water!

"So, this is me. Not bad," the man murmured, moving closer to investigate. He studied his reflection, pleased that he did recognize it as his own face. He ran his fingers through his short blond hair. Though it was plastered down from being wet, he pictured it spiked up in gentle waves. Blue eyes bright with intelligence stared out of a youthful face. "Not bad at all. I bet the girls would be swooning all over if I got the chance to clean up a bit."

Giving his reflection a wink, the man said, "Well, handsome, it was nice seeing you. But I need to find someplace to rest. Don't worry, though. I'll see you around."

This time the man retraced his steps, wishing he knew how to find anything in this town. He couldn't recall a place with so many twists and turns. Of course, since he couldn't recall much else either, that was a moot point.

As the road ended at a tunnel, the man paused to consider his options. Certainly the town was open, there weren't many little nooks for a man to camp out in. And no signs stated that the tunnel had restricted access.

With some hesitation, not knowing what the darkness might be hiding, the man entered the tunnel. No monsters jumped out to attack him. Instead, the tunnel merely turned into a mess of walkways. Signs were posted to offer directions, but they meant nothing to the man beyond the assumption that an exit lay in the directions being pointed out. When the man found that the tunnels didn't even offer benches to stretch out upon, he chose the nearest exit he could find.

The tunnel opened out into an alley. The man doubted many came this way. Buildings crowded close together, giving the area a claustrophobic feel. It didn't smell much like an alley, in the man's opinion. There was no scent of city grime and garbage. Instead, the man merely smelled the earthy scent of the pavement and the salty scent of the sea floating on a breeze.

And there was a chainlink door. The man moved closer to investigate. He could see furniture, but no people. Hesitantly, he pushed at the door and was surprised to find it wasn't locked. As he stepped inside, the door closed behind him with a soft clank. The man wasn't concerned about stealth anymore, however. He collapsed onto the ratty purple couch and fell into an exhausted sleep.

"Hey, this is our spot!" The words were followed by a prodding at his side which jerked the man ever closer to wakefulness. He grunted and reached out, swatting in vain at the annoyance. The prodding merely moved to his shoulder. Grousing silently, the man cracked open his eyes to fix his piercing glare on three young people – two boys and a girl.

The boys couldn't have appeared more different. One appeared trim and athletic. He seemed made for fighting, his sleeveless t-shirt showing off lean, wiry arms. The other boy was more solidly built. His bushy brown hair kept out of his face by a sweatband. The girl stood back at a safe distance. She toyed nervously with a tendril of hair as she watched.

"I don't do kiddie parties," the man grumbled, snatching a stick from the slender boy. Then he dropped his head back down, hoping to be able to sleep again.

The boy stared at his suddenly empty hand. "Hey! You're the one who's trespassing!" he snapped.

The man didn't have to be a genius to realize that he wasn't going to be allowed to go back to sleep. Particularly when the boy grabbed his shirt and pulled him off the couch. "Ow!" the man whined. "Fine, fine. I'm going. There's no need to get violent."

"Hayner!" the girl chided.

The boy had the grace to put on an apologetic expression. He offered a hand which the man stared at warily before clasping. "Sorry," Hayner said. "It's just this is the one place in around here that's really ours. And we don't like people just barging in."

"The gate was open," the man pointed out. "So I just thought..."

"Well, I guess there wasn't any harm done." The boy paused and gestured to himself and his companions. "Anyway, I'm Hayner. That guy's Pence. And she's Olette. What's your name? I don't think I've ever seen you around Twilight Town before."

"Medy," the man answered automatically, blurting the first name which came to mind. For all he knew, it could be his name. Certainly it would do until he could remember.

Demyx,came an unbidden thought. The man, Medy, shook his head to clear away that thought. Demyx was a familiar name, but it felt like a name that belonged to somebody else.

Or Nobody else.