"Erik? Are you done in there yet?" Wren hollered over the noise of the busy Walmart into the men's dressing rooms. She felt like a complete idiot doing that, especially with the customer service girl there eyeballing her like a sideshow attraction. To be honest, she looked like one herself. God, there was a time in high school when Wren used to dress like that. Thankfully she had grown out of it.

Dyed black hair with purple streaks hung messily over her white face, the bored blue eyes blacked out. Her name tag read 'Brittany' but somehow she had an idea that she went by Phantasma or something. Several piercing dotted the girl's face, sparkling randomly as she chewed her cud of gum. Just like a cow, Wren grumbled internally before hollering at Erik again.

"I cannot get this 'zipper' to work. I need a bit of help," Erik finally replied, his voice muffled and nervous behind the cheap door. It was right there at the front, she could see the top of his hair. Wren restrained a groan at that and looked helplessly about her for a man to help him. There was no one except her and the cow around. Even if there was another guy around, there was no way she was going to ask him to help her 'friend' do up his pants. That was not going to happen, she concluded bitterly.

"I can't come back there. You have to come out," she called back. A barely covered scoff met her ears.

"I am not venturing out in this state. Please come and help me?" he pleaded sweetly, going close enough to the door so that she could see sock-shod feet. A bit panicky of the idea, Wren glanced at the goth girl in hopes that she would deny access.

No such luck. With a slightly perverted smirk, she pointed a black nail at the rooms, cracking her gum annoyingly. Wren struggled with the urge to kill (once again) for that one. Did no one care anymore? Was she really just going to let her go back in the men's changing to do God knows what? Apathy was the new fad and goddamn it, it was annoying.

"Fine, unlock the door," she growled before stalking past her to Erik's room. She flashed her a mildly threatening look to which she offered something of a twisted smile. "Thanks a lot, Brittany."

"Oh, you are welcome," the other replied while smacking her gum more. The black lipstick she wore was running into her mouth with all that chewing and licking of lips. Gross…

Erik had opened the door slightly for her. Apparently, he knew full well that she was going to give in and help. Immediately after entering the forbidden zone, Wren closed the door and risked a glance at him. He had on a nice white business with the tag still on it, hanging open to show the undershirt. It was the only article of clothing she could get him to be agreeable with minus a few t-shirts and a set of tennis shoes. The belt and fly of the jeans were wide open, revealing just the black top fabric of the boxer briefs she had gotten him earlier on in the day.

Swallowing hard, Wren kept her nervous gaze on his face as she leaned against the door. Erik was not comfortable out in public; even a complete stranger would notice that. The moment he had stepped outside with her that morning he had grown sullen and withdrawn from the glances he had earned. It wasn't that others stared excessively, just a curious look once in a while but it seemed enough to anger him and make him want to hide.

"Now, why can't you figure out the pants, Erik? You deduced how my car works within a few minutes and yet you can't learn to work a zipper?" Wren prodded playfully, trying to keep the mood light despite her irritation. It felt so wrong to be in the men's room with a man, as if some insulted deity was preparing to launch a grenade at her for being there.

Erik sighed in dark dejection, staring down his chest at the ill-begotten pants in annoyance. It wasn't that he couldn't figure it out; he just was not in the mood for it. Wren almost wanted to laugh at how much he was pouting but reigned it in. This was all very hard for him, she realized. The scarring upon his face had definitely given him problems in his past and drawn all kinds of uncompassionate attention from others. Wren shivered to think of what those people in the past did to him for his deformity. People were much less accepting and kind of things such as this at that time in history.

"I know how it works. It is stuck or broken," he muttered darkly as he grabbed it once more and tugged in listless frustration. After a moment of watching him struggle, Wren came up to him, keeping her pounding heart at bay on a leash.

With shaky hands, she knocked his fingers away and tested the zipper. Don't think about where your hands are; she kept repeating to herself like a mantra. Only two layers of cloth and there's his…damn it! She told herself not to think about it.

Yanking it down, she managed to dislodge the kink and proceeded to pull it up all the way before buttoning the jeans, the back of her fingers brushing the hard muscle of his lower stomach. Licking her lips, Wren looked up at his still moody gaze and quirked a smile.

"There, no big deal. They fit nicely."

The man only nodded, his blue green eyes still lost in thought. This was insane, Wren decided finally. He was so afraid of everyone's reactions that he couldn't even realize that no one was giving one. Heaving a disbelieving sigh, she reached up and put a hand to his cheek, dipping her head to capture his gaze.

"Hey," she mouthed once he shifted his attention to her. She smiled softly. "It's alright. Has it really been that bad today?"

His lips tightened in suppressed anger and annoyance before shaking his head.

"No, but I cannot stop thinking that at any moment they will panic and run away. I keep having memories of people running or crying in horror," Erik admitted bitterly, his brow furrowing in agonized thought. Wren felt her heart ache at that and realized just how hard it was for him to be out amongst people. For a moment, she felt cruel and cold for not being more sympathizing.

Trying to be soothing to his fears, she buried her own worries and wrapped her arms about his waist to hold him close, her face buried near his neck. After a moment, Erik embraced her in return, shifting his nose in her hair and heaving a small shuddery sigh. This was so much harder than he had imagined it would be and as grateful as he was for her reassurance, it did not help the anxiety and anger.

Shivering a little at the way her hand sifted through the hair at the back of his neck, Erik found more familiarity resurfacing. It was as if thousands of little memories or physical remembrances were coming to him and what it revealed hurt him. There was so little that was truly good about whatever his life had been before; so sparse in fact that he was beginning to crave the amnesia again.

And her face…that face with the beautiful, hateful lips and cold tears flashed so often in the dark behind his eyelids that reality felt more like a slideshow.

"Let's head home soon. I don't like this mood you're in," Wren said before tilting her chin up to look at him. She gave him a little, timid smile. "I'll even cook for you, if you can stomach it."

At her attempt at lightness, Erik forcefully pushed the queasy ache in his heart back and offered a small, fake grin. Relishing her warm, wary arms about him, he considered her offer with a playful gleam in his eye.

"And what would you make for us?"

"Uhh…I can make…ah, coconut curry chicken."

He raised his one eyebrow in suspicious curiosity at the idea but gave in to it. It would be better to contemplate something as inane as that than to remember and dwell on the things that pestered him. At his look, Wren grinned and wiggled away, clearly past the limits of her comfort in his arms.

One day, he found himself hoping, she would be able to stand holding him or some other man for longer than a few moments.

"What is that?" Erik asked abruptly as they drove home only a few hours later, their purchases in the back seat. Wren frowned as she drove, a bit annoyed that he had interrupted her and clearly hadn't been listening. It wasn't anything important but it rather stung that he was once again lost in his mind.

Restraining her huffy instinct, she leaned over the wheel and looked out his window. Coming up on the left was one of a million trails in Oregon, wandering up and weaving through the mountains. There was no placard for this one as there normally was for the tourists. Telling him as much, Erik then narrowed his eyes at the trail and seemed to once more get lost in his thoughts.

"Would you like to go for a quick walk before we go home?" Wren asked him slowly, hoping maybe it would clear the cobwebs. Startled, he looked to her, confusion gleaming dully in his eyes and dancing in the tiny wrinkles that showed up by his mouth and eyes. After a moment, he nodded silently and went back to gazing out the window.

At this point, she was about to scream in utter frustration. The morning had started out so well but as the day progressed he withdrew from her more and more, his lips speaking so much less than his eyes did. He was lost in random, sharp memories, she knew, but trying to be cheerful and drag him from whatever hell there was drained her and made her feel like weeping in helplessness.

Shaking her thoughts free, Wren pulled over gently, her Jeep bouncing once over a small dried stream by the road. Casting her eyes up to the cloudy grey sky in a plea for patience, she glanced over at her guest as she put it in park.

Erik hadn't moved a muscle, in fact she was sure he hadn't even realized they had stopped. He looked as though his mind was lost somewhere in time, lips slack and gaze glazed over. For a moment, she fiddled with her seat belt, wondering how on earth she could make him feel better. In the back of her mind, she wondered when she had taken to caring so much about it.

"Um, Erik? I know you're having a real tough time today but-" she stopped when she realized that he wasn't listening to her. Every ounce of his attention was now devoted to staring at her low playing radio as if it was the spawn of the devil. That look made Wren stop in mid-sentence and listen to the commercial for tickets to a show in Portland.

'In sleep he sang to me. In dreams he came-'

She didn't catch all of the softly sung lyric. The woman's voice was silvery and lovely but it only seemed so install such a rage in Erik; so intense that the very air darkened in the vehicle. The very muscles in his face tightened, twisting his expression into one of pure raging pain. His lip curled in some fury and his hands clenched tightly. Wren resisted the mammalian instinct to flee from the frothing glow in his narrowed, enraged eyes.

The commercial ended as quickly as it came on but the damage was done. Her breath caught in her throat and in that second, Erik began tearing at his seatbelt in a furious, desperate frenzy.

Once the damnable thing was off, he was gone. Wren stared in blatant shock and horror as he disappeared in the tree line, his mind tormented by demons she could not see. The dull, muted dinging of the car complaining about its door being open brought her back to her senses. Just as desperately, she wrestled with her belt and turned off the Jeep.

"Erik? Erik!" she called loudly, voice steeped in worry. What had happened then? Was it that random snatch of a song? Did he have another memory?

Wandering in the direction Erik had disappeared to, Wren shivered at the evening chill and the light drizzle that fell like a mist in the blue air. Everything seemed to be soaked in that shade, as if to match the sadness in her heart and the deep agony in his.

After twenty minutes of searching with her arms wrapped about herself, Wren stopped and choked on tears that threatened to overwhelm her. Wiping harshly at them with her sweaters sleeve, she sighed harshly and looked about her. Down the slope she had just climbed and a few tree lines away was the Jeep, alone by the road. Where on earth was he? Why did he run away? Worry and fear ran rampant through her like an icy finger of electricity. What if he was hurt?

A low, murmured sob reached her pricked ears, somewhere to her left. Startled, Wren looked to see nothing but the hardy, dark trunks of the pines. The misty air, the fading blue light and the emptiness of the area frightened her. Was that him or something else? Then she heard it again, this time dragged out by a heated string of growled words. Cautiously, she followed the sound, wincing with every step and every crunch of pine needles under her tennis shoes.

Around an ancient trunk she went and from there the world grew a bit strange in her perception. The very ground rocked under her feet and her vision shook as if she was stumbling violently down a flight of stairs.

In front of her sat Erik on his knees, his head bowed and broad shoulders quaking in a battle of restraint. The sight of his brilliant white shirt, skin and dark hair in the deepening dusk made him as a ghost, shivering just on the edge of reality. From her position all she could see was his trembling back; how was she to know how volatile he was at that moment?

"Erik, thank god I found you. Are you-?" she murmured as she approached, feeling strangely adrift and unattached to her movements. She reached out and touched his tense shoulder, her hand friendly but unaware of what was boiling underneath it.

Erik moved in a violent blur to her gaze and she felt an exploding pain in her head and a riot of lights in her vision as the world rocked again and her legs gave out. The ground felt oddly soft to her nerves as she lay amongst the pine needles and their scent drowned her.

He had hit her…

The pain turned into a deep throbbing that resonated in her skull. The edges of her vision grew dark, rippling like a tide that rose and fell in beat with the agony. She felt trembling cold hands on her face and hurried, panicking words but she couldn't see nor understand. The world went black.

What had he done? How could he have done this to the one person who had shown him unwarranted kindness? These thoughts stung and tormented the man as he sat by Wren, staring through tears at the livid bruise he had caused. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he drenched the washcloth again in the bowl of water, fighting the quaking in his long hands. Tenderly, he leaned closer to where she lay and dabbed the cool liquid upon her forehead and cheeks.

Erik was thankful that she was still asleep at this moment. He wasn't sure he could handle seeing her eyes fill with hate quite yet. How could she not hate him after this? After this damage…

Along the left side of her face, a darkening black-blue bruise danced along her cheekbone and eyebrow, swollen and puffy. At least he hadn't shattered the bones with the blind fury which had possessed him.

The green crystals in his eyes darkened at the thought of it in the damp two a.m. air. What a state he had been reduced to; less than an animal in thought and feeling for restraint. Those few words, those deadly, sweet words that had floated over the mechanical winds had stabbed a spike into his heart and driven him mad. It wasn't her voice, he knew, no, that was not the angel's throat but the words were hers. The song had begun chorusing in his skull as he ran, turning into a cacophony of words and screams. All hers…he couldn't handle it.

The silver bell of that voice and the memory of her large brown eyes filling in terrified tears caused cold ones to fall down his scarred face. Look at what I have done, he cried inside for himself and for whatever god listened to our tragedies. Look at her, see the thing that I have done?

When the fingers touched him, he hadn't even realized that it was her or that is was just a touch not a ghost of a memory. The pounding serenade of beautiful agonies in his brain drowned reason out and when the touch fell upon him, he lashed out at it instinctively as he had with every tree he had run against and anything that had come to his grasp. There was still dirt under his fingernails from when he had fallen to his knees and grasped at the earth in confused pain. Only when he heard her cry out and fall to the earthen floor did he realize what he had swung at.

The fine tremor in his fingers grew worse as he tenderly dabbed Wren's neck and collar, trying to fight the ashamed tears that burned him. He did not know if he could handle what was to come. Perhaps he had better just leave once she was awake and coherent. Or perhaps while she was still asleep and unaware.

A quiet murmur of waking breath dragged his attention back to her weakly shifting eyelids and the way her mouth pressed in pain before consciousness ever graced her. With bated breath, Erik waited as her lashes fluttered, barely opening to life.

Wren opened her glazed brown eyes and stared at the ceiling, her chest barely moving as she breathed. She didn't see anyone in this dumb limbo she had awoken in, just the rotten milk color of the roof. Why didn't she paint this with a better color? Her mind was following the train of thought languidly, pondering the different shades blearily. Red, orange, green, yellow, blue…

Blue; like the very air in those ancient trees that stood so silently. The earth had soaked up so much of that deep and sad color. Then she remembered in a sudden rush. Erik…a ghost in white that sobbed…a firework of pain and shooting lights…

Every muscle in Erik's body tensed as the woman's sore and tired gaze slid to him, the glaze upon them never leaving, only reflecting the faded grey from the yellow hall light.

For several breathless moments, Wren looked at him, just looked with no expression. Her gaze studied the haggard lines of his face, the tightness of his generally brilliant eyes and the sadness tucked in the corners of his lips. The deep purple blue of her bruise sullied her. She watched and absorbed the way his baby fine hair fell on his brow as he lowered his damaged gaze from her in shame. Tiny tears were escaping him, streaking like drops of silver over the ridges and scarring of his deformity.

Never before had she thought him more pitiful and ugly than at that moment. There was a sweetness in him that she hadn't anticipated; seeing how he was after the pain. It was like seeing a strange reflection of herself after past temporary lovers left her in cold sheets.

There was no anger in her for the hit just a bare hurt confusion. Even that didn't bother her much. He had appeared to be in such agony when she had come upon him that it did not surprise her that he had struck out. She just silently watched the way he cried with one eye barely seeing and wondered that he cried over her. Perhaps this was shock or perhaps her brain had been damaged but it didn't matter. She didn't want to feel anything foul towards him.

Finally, Wren attempted to open her mouth and the pain returned to her numb body. The muscles in her jaw and temple strained and throbbed at the stretch and she swallowed a cry. A small whimper escaped her and he flinched as if she had stabbed him. After another try, she learned to tolerate the pain.

"Don't worry; I've been hit before," she whispered lowly. Whether she meant it in comfort or just to injure him, she couldn't be sure but he closed and sighed shakily as if his beating heart was within her nails. Falling to silence, she watched him in the gloom, his face twitching in an effort not to break down again.

"Wren, I…" Erik murmured in despair as he finally looked up to her gaze. He fell silent again at the blank stare she held, her mind lost behind her eyes. The corners of his mouth turned again and he licked his dry lips. "I-I had not meant to..."

"I know," she replied dully. No smile nor frown lit up her features. Erik stared at her in broken, mute shock. She just accepted it, no fight, no blame towards him for her bruised flesh? No, this was not right. She should hate him for what he did. He hated himself for what he had done to her.

His amazement deepened as she held out a hand from where is rested at her side on the blanket, the fingers trembling. Still dumb at her response, Erik took it in both of his cold ones and brought her flesh to his mouth. Kissing the back of her hand and the tips of her fingers, he relished the warmth of it and that she wasn't afraid of the attention. Closing his eyes, he put his forehead to her palm and sighed.

Wren let him rest against her hand, enjoying how his brow creased against her skin and how his lips felt on her skin. This numb feeling of vague detachment would not leave her but in its vertigo she felt fine.

Perhaps the hurt would happen tomorrow or the next day or maybe never. Men had hit her before and a resentment had boiled in her soul but this…this was different. Why she chose not to beat at him and scream hatred was a mystery to her but she was not going to ponder the sanctuary it offered.

Shifting her fingers against his bow, she gathered his attention again. Softly, Wren tried to smile, fighting the burning pain it caused. Erik's lips pressed at the sight of her forcing that smile, crinkling the horrid purpled skin at her eye in the effort. He gave her a look of loving disbelief, one hand squeezing her free one now. For a moment, they only looked at one another, studying the other in mute appreciation.

Suddenly, tears gathered in Wren's eyes, startling the both of them and for once she didn't fight it. He felt his previously rising heart sink at the sight of them trailing down her bruised face.

"She hurt you really badly this time, didn't she?" she murmured softly, her voice cracking no matter how detached she was. A vice clamped on Erik's chest and he lowered his head from her view. Silently, she waited for him to collect himself and nod in response, lacking a voice with which to reply.

Not trusting herself to sit up, Wren held out her arms for him despite how weak and shaky she felt. He hesitated and considered how much he felt that he did not deserve to be forgiven. At the same time, he longed so desperately for that very thing. In the end he gave into the strong want and felt that perhaps he had suffered enough guilt of the kind.

Gently and carefully, Erik shifted closer and fell into her arms halfway, his own sneaking under her to hold her closer. The woman immediately began threading her hands soothingly through his hair, running her nails over his twisted skin and kissing the top of his head softly. Never before had she felt so warm and comforting to him, never before had she so willingly held and touched him. Where did this come from, he wondered? What had triggered this reaction? It was beyond their understanding but it was something they would not question till daybreak.

Finding his tears dried up, Erik sat up enough in her grasp to look down upon her. Despite the livid purplish bruising and the wild, dirty state of her red-brown hair, he found that he couldn't remember anyone looking so beautiful to him. Even though they both needed a shower and there were dirt smudges from where she fell all over her, but he found her glowing.

Wren felt none of the old panic rising in her at the sensation of his weight pressing upon her chest, thank God, perhaps it was gone for good. She didn't want it. Not with this strange man that had crashed landed into her life and turned it upside down in so short of a time. Was it alright that she felt this way so soon? Did it matter, really?

When he began to kiss her cheek and brow, lips savoring the damage beneath, she closed her eyes at the sensation and turned her face to receive more.

His lips touched hers.

It was brief but as soon as he lifted away she opened her eyes to find him startled. He hadn't meant to kiss her on the mouth; she had turned into it. Suddenly unsure, they eyed one another, as if to see in the others reactions that it was alright. Slowly, so she could pull away, Erik timidly kissed her again.

At the light grazing of his tempting lips upon hers, Wren shivered and felt her heart beat harder in tune with the throbbing in her face. It hurt but she kissed him back more firmly, her breath caught somewhere between her sanity and reasoning. The muscles ached but it made it sweeter than his mouth already felt.

There was no hot fire surging through them, no burning passion that would scour their souls, as Wren half expected; just a soft, welcoming sensation against the planes of her lips. It was simple and yet it held more meaning that any other kiss she had yet.

After a moment, Erik lifted away from her touch, his mouth brushing hers as his warm breath blew over her. Eyes closed, he rested his brow to her forehead, cherishing the moment and the relief it gave.

None of it made sense to either of them but at that moment, in the dark of early morn, it didn't need to.