Okay, something I forgot to mention, forgetful jerk that I am. I decided to write this after reading White Wings (written by Bustahead, go read it if you haven't-- now). It's a beautiful piece of writing, so it galvanised me into writing my own Vergil fic.

In other news, Vergil (for yea, it was he) wakes up! But he's a little confused, unfortunately. I'll leave you to speculate on who the "they" and "he" are that he speaks of at the end of the chapter.

Disclaimer: Wait a sec- let me check... nope. I still don't own Devil May Cry. Who'da thunk?

Warmth. That was the first thing he felt. A wonderful kind of warmth, that soothed, and comforted... and then a strange sort of lightness, as if some heavy burden had been removed from his shoulders. Part of him frowned, puzzled. There was something strange here, something... different. It was a moment before his mind, still half asleep, hit upon the answer.

The pain. Or lack thereof. It didn't hurt so much anymore. He struggled to think of why this could possibly be- but he was still so tired and it was so warm and...

Something brushed lightly against him, causing him to lose the languorous feeling. The blackness that had engulfed him before, it was receding. He tried to hold onto it, he didn't want to go back, but it was no use. He slowly surfaced from the vast lake of his subconscious. Slowly, almost cautiously, he opened his eyes...

—

Aline was there the moment he opened his eyes. Not on purpose- she was just there. She had come to check on him. After they had found him on Mallet Island, the had taken him to the dry land of the Spanish peninsula. Luckily they- she and her colleagues- owned a small coastal safe-house there. After all, the saying was right- better safe than sorry.

And it was safe, in this case. She and Sher had carried him up to the house and deposited him in one of the spare rooms. And after that... not much else. They hadn't wanted to take him to a hospital because of both the armor, and personal curiosity- though neither of them had admitted it. His condition had improved somewhat since they had found him, but he still hadn't woken up. It was very frustrating. She had caught Sher more than once muttering about how 'that darn idiot' wouldn't wake up. Personally, she felt the same. It was very ungrateful of him.

Aline had gone to check on him that morning, almost a week after they had found him. She didn't really know why, just that she felt like it. She hovered in the doorway of 'his' room for a moment before stepping in. His armor lay in a heap in one of the corners where they had neglected to store it away properly. She smiled wryly- taking that armor off had been hell. She still had the scrape marks to show for it. He had had protective clothing under it, but they had taken that off too- the top at least- in order to treat his wounds. She still remembered with a shudder how his back has been covered in cuts and bruises. She also remembered thinking that no normal human could have survived those wounds.

She pulled up a chair by the bed he lay on. Once again, she resisted the urge to shake him. It was incredibly annoying- he just wouldn't wake up! She sighed and placed her chin in her hands.

He's pretty cute... she thought idly. Then immediately shook herself and drove that thought firmly from her mind. She leaned over and brushed a few strands of silver hair away from him face. He stirred at her touch, and she drew back, acutely aware that the tips of her ears were pink. She really hoped Sher didn't walk in right now. But even if he had, her attention had already been wrenched away by something else.

His eyes were opening.

His eyelids fluttered slightly, then slowly rose to reveal eyes that were stunningly blue. For a moment they stared at the ceiling above him. Then, they swivelled down and came to rest on... her.

—

He opened his eyes to a totally unfamiliar place. The air around him was warm and, for the first time in so many years, relatively free of the demonic miasma he had been forced to breathe for so long. He moved his gaze to take in the rest of- wherever it was that he was. Then he noticed- another someone, not two feet away from him.

Startled, he sat up violently- then immediately regretted it. He clenched his jaw to combat the wave of nausea that threatened to overcome him.

"Hey, careful there." a voice told him. Female... it was a female voice. He turned his head to look at the other someone, noting with more than a little surprise the look of concern on her face. Concern? She couldn't possibly be concerned about him.

"Are you all right?" she inquired. Was she talking to him? He stared at her unresponsively through strands of silver hair.

—

Ok, he was awake now, but he wasn't responding. What the hell was wrong with him? She sighed slightly, then lifted a hand, moving it toward his shoulder. To her surprise, he drew back defensively, teeth bared slightly. Accordingly, she let her hand drop- quickly.

"It's all right," she told him gently. "Not like I'll hurt you or anything." she smiled to demonstrate her good intentions. Hell, it's like talking to a little kid, her sarcastic side drawled. Maybe he has a concussion or something, she realized. She would have to check. But later.

She raised her hand again, a little slower that before. Gently, she placed it on his shoulder. This time, he didn't flinch. Well, that was something.

"What's your name?" Still no answer. She sighed and let her hand slide off his shoulder. So much for that.

"I don't... have a name."

His sudden answer made Aline start slightly. She blinked.

"What, you mean... you don't remember?"

He shook his head slightly.

"No... I don't have a name."

"Well... gotta call you something." she huffed slightly, then shook a stray lock of brown hair out of her eyes. The man looked away slightly, and his eyes became slightly distant. He frowned slightly as though trying to grasp an elusive memory that hovered just out of reach.

"Before... they..." he shook his head and started again. "They- he- called me... Nelo."