A control on the side of the bed operated the lights. Cheonha kept them dim, per usual, though probably a nurse would have set them that way, this being night. Nothing in the morning made any sense. Cheonha remembered little, just the shuffle of doctors and nurses saying things to each other. And to her, but at the moment, none of it reached her conscious mind. All had subsided, and now Cheonha lay quietly in a hospital room, tucked into a mechanical bed, fluid in her arm, and the closed blinds to the right blocking out all sight of Seoul. A flatscreen TV, off, stood in before the bed. To the front-left of the room, the little window in the door let in the merest bit of light, when the lights were on. Even in the dark Cheonha could occasionally catch sight of a nurse or somesuch passing by. Fully to the left stood the bathroom, and there Cheonha's hatred gathered. Never before had anyone been required to help her with that bodily function, and she would have preferred many years before this kind of awkward situation.

At the moment, all within the room and outside Cheonha's head peacefully existed. She had heard the whispers; only sweet denial spared her the knowledge of her mother's fate, and even daring to ask a nurse meant coming face to face with the truth. Her weary body, much against her will, fought to stay alive and not join her last family member. Whether from the grief or the drugs, Cheonha couldn't see into the future at all. Seoul itself, though just one set of blinds away, was nothing. She found herself longing for the hillsides of the North, if only because those were familiar hills with whispered memories in their blades of grass. This was all denied her, and in more ways than one her present day was a dark and shadowy room.

Cheonha didn't think about anything. She didn't stir, and there was no one to talk to. The pain in her gut, subdued by the medicine, only ached if she attempted to move. After several more seconds of staring into the nothingness, a few thoughts began to form. If she slept, the hours would pass quicker. Pass toward what, she didn't care. Like little blossoms, the few people she knew popped up through the ennui.

My plastic flower sandals... Cheonha thought. I love them. Bethany chose them for me, and they are the first pair of shoes I've ever owned that were truly pretty.

Cheona wished Bethany lived in Korea. She had seen other foreigners in Seoul, so why should it be difficult for her friend to be one of them? They could live together, and Bethany could go to school and actually learn korean properly. Bethany was so bad at the grammar, and her handwriting so terrible that spelling errors were difficult to spot. But Cheonha would help, and they would be friends with Eunha too, and...

Cheonha's surprise, dull from unuse, reacted very little to the growing blue cloud at the front of the room. The patient stiffened as much as the vast weight of her indifference allowed. It was "Charlie," in person here on Earth. Cheonha looked away, and let a terse breath of from her nose express her feelings.

"Cheonha."

Accustomed to psychic communication, Cheonha let the full force of her dark emotions cloud around her. She poured every angry and hurtful feeling into that cloud, hoping with all her might that the Protoss would get the idea. He did not appear to. In her periphery, she spied his giant hand reaching for her own.

"Andehyo!" she snapped.

Those weird white ridges around his eyes always seemed so immovable, so much a part of his face as though they were permanently affixed in a stern position. Yet now they softened, and for the first time, Cheonha thought she saw true sympathy in his eyes. If only she cared. If only the stupid Protoss knew her language. Cheonha angrily told herself that he would shortly learn a few words.

"You might as well be sorry!" Cheonha growled at him. "This is all your fault! Why couldn't you just grab Omma like you grabbed me the first day? Huh? Are you too stupid to do it right? Why did you steal my life away? You never explained! Why couldn't you have just left me in the North? Everything was good enough without you because me and Omma were together! I hate you! Just go away! Go away or I'll have the nurse come! I hate you..."

A surge through her stomach cut short her cry, and red hot tears coursed down as Cheonha tried to lean back and breathe. Her diatribe had no affect on Aldaris. He gently reached again for Cheonha, and he pushed a bit of hair out of her face. For a moment, she suddenly feared that he might hurt her. As a giant, he was bound to be stronger - and she had screamed at him. Cheonha pulled back in fear, but the fear soon dissipated. An aura of peace from the Protoss eminated. As if by outside command, Cheonha felt her anger drain away. With it, the pain lessened a little.

Aldaris took her hand and laid it palm upward. On this he stretched a necklace, as tiny as a thread in his massive hands. The little blue stone in the middle of the chain he set in Cheonha's palm, then closed her hand into a fist, gently closing his own hands over hers for a brief moment.

And then he was gone. The blue clouds ushered him away, and with him went much of the peace Cheonha felt. She returned to the cold and barely feeling status as before, excepting a little anger that still lingered in her heart. Cheonha opened her hand to look at the necklace. The delicate golden chain hooked on both sides to a trapezoidal ][, pale blue stone grasped with little strands of gold. For several seconds, Cheonha stared at the thing incredulously.

Why did he give me this? I don't want it.

Rage took over, and Cheonha tightly gripped the stone, pulling back her hand to throw it in to the far wall. With a soundless snap, everything vanished into the dark, and Cheonha, instead of lying in a bed, flew through the air in a mix of darkness -

Her grip loosened, and the necklace slipped out of her palm and down to the bedsheets. Cheonha blinked; all was as it had been, in the deep humility of the unlit hospital room. Cheonha barely got hold of herself in time to notice the sounds and movements at the door. She hurriedly grabbed the necklace again and shoved it under her blanket before a nurse came in.

"Cheonha," said the pleasant, middle aged nurse. She looked worried, but Nurse Choi always seemed to carry a look of perpetual concern on her face. "Is everything alright? We thought we heard something in here."

"Um, no," Cheonha said, trying not to look like she'd had the shock of her life. "I had a bad dream. That's all."

"Oh, you poor little thing," Nurse Choi approached and gently stroked Cheonha's brow with a warm hand. "Would you like me to stay in the room with you?"

"No, I'm fine here by myself."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Alright, but I do worry about you." The nurse patted her hand. "Are you hurting very much? Do I need to give you more pain medication?"

"Um, maybe just a little."

Only a few minutes passed as Nurse Choi tinkered with the fluid in her arm, checked a few things on her chart, and said her motherly goodnight. Time indeterminable passed for Cheonha, and only the vague, nagging tension in her stomach reminded her that she needed to stay calm. Finally the door shut, and Cheonha pulled the little blue stone out. It looked no different than before, but only at that moment did Cheonha realize how much the mineral resembled a pylon from Starcraft.

Why did Aldaris give me a pylon? A little pylon for a little building?

Cheonha squeezed her hand over the stone again, as tightly as she dared. Nothing happened for several seconds. Then, more slowly this time, everything faded to black - not complete black. There were stars in the sky, and a light from a porch nearby - the Kensley porch! And she wasn't flying. Her perspective hovered only a few feet off of the ground. Only it wasn't her perspective. There she was, outside of her own body, next to her mother. The two of them sat together in lawn chairs, singing. Looking a little to the left and the right, her foreign friends also sat nearby, listening.

I know this...this is Aldaris' memory when we were all together...I'm seeing this through his eyes...

She didn't want to cry. Crying would strain her gut. Cheonha let go of the stone briefly, reached for the bed controls, and lowered them a little further. Sleep had evaded her all night thus far, so even if she spent the rest of it locked in a memory, nothing was lost.