Author's Note: Thanks for the reviews. Hope you enjoy this chapter just as much. It's a bit shorter but the chapter afterwards, once I have it fully sorted out, is longer and will make up for it. Here's right when the plot starts so enjoy!

You were on my mind at least nine tenths of yesterday

It seems as if perhaps I'd gone insane

What is it about you that has commandeered my brain?

-Kimya Dawson, "My Rollercoaster"

He woke up slung over someone's shoulder, his whole body swaying with the motion of walking. His fingers hovered inches above a black, paved road, decorated with thin cracks and the occasional pothole. Leaves edged the road, brown and crumbled, leading up to the all too familiar woods that sparsely held either side of the path. He did not have the strength to raise his head very far but the small tilt he managed, complimented by his carrier stumbling, allowed him to see that the trees had progressively thinned and if it continued, soon there would be none at all. Between them, he saw not leaves or foliage but thick, curly grass sprouting in unorganized clumps. This grass was juxtaposed against grey slate and shockingly green moss that sat at the bases of the waning trees. It reminded him of something that he could not unveil from his brain, like so many other things he'd stumbled across since his trek started. There was another missed step and this time he let out a surprised grunt as the air was knocked out of him. The person stoped moving and, breathlessly, called to him.

"You awake, kid?"

He croaked. "Yeah."

"Think you can walk? I've got some bandages on your feet and it's not too far."

"Yeah," he lied, his head throbbing a rhythm with his heart and the rest of his aches-- most especially his feet-- starting to reappear with a vengeance. The person bent forward slowly and he felt fire as his feet hit the pavement. Bile leaped into his throat but he suppressed the urge to vomit. He clung to the person's shoulders as he tried to get control, allowing the person to maneuver him about until they were standing next to each other with his arm around the person's shoulders. It was the man in the red shirt, he noted, Bones he was called.

"Easy does it," Bones cautioned as he wrapped an arm about the traveler's waist. "There you go. House is just up there. See it?"

Now that he was facing forward, the house was easily visible. Just a few feet before them, the forest disappeared entirely, leaving the fluffy grass to carpet the ground and sprout tiny pink flowers. Along the edge of the path, a decrepit white fence was erected, guiding it up to a red door and a tarnished silver handle. The house attached to the door used to be a lovely yellow but had fallen into a grayish green color, dotted with mold and rot. The shingles, red to match the door, had cracked and a few had gone missing all together. Everything about it spoke of desertion or severe neglect and the traveler wondered, his mind tired of his continually growing list of questions, why anyone would let something so magnificent fall so far.

"It's a shame, isn't it?" Bones read his mind, addressing the subject as the two of them stumbled their way up. "If I had a place like this somewhere, I'd never let this happen to it."

The traveler spoke between ragged inhales. "It's not… yours?"

"Nope. Blue and I found it and it was better than sleeping in the woods. There are beds and rooms, and nothing can beat a cellar full of food."

His stomach clenched in agreement with this statement, causing him to gag again. Bones stopped their journey so the traveler could bend over and vomit into the grass on the side of the path. It was watery, lacking any substance, but it made the traveler feel even sicker to look upon. He took a quick breath in through his nose and let it out slowly from his mouth. The house was close and it was shelter though not the one he would have chosen. He also had companions and while they were less informed than he, they were people he could depend on should his situation grow dire. He used his free hand to wipe his mouth and signaled Bones he was ready to move again.

"What… happened… to the others?" he queried as they drew closer in order to distract himself from the pain and nausea.

"Blue's taken that pointy eared bastard out to the shack," Bones intoned in a manner the traveler translated as soothing. "He won't hurt you anymore."

"He didn't hurt me in the first place," the traveler informed him, tripping and relishing the fact that this time, someone stopped him from falling. "He wouldn't hurt me."

Bones appeared incredulous. "You know him?"

"No more than I know you," the traveler admitted. "But I feel like I've met him before. He wouldn't hurt me intentionally."

"If you say so," Bones replied. "But, just in case he's not friendly to everyone, we're keeping him locked up."

The traveler did not agree with this behavior at all and felt he ought to speak up. What held him back was not fear as much as the feeling that, as a guest, he should respectfully abide by the laws of the house. If these people wished for the man to stay in the shed, then he would stay in the shed. But the traveler, in solidarity, would also stay in the shed until the unfounded prejudices were overlooked. They were all the same, the lot of them, all people without memories and without knowledge of where the road of life was supposed to take them. As such, they should have been banding together and working towards the goal of discovery. He did not understand why Bones and the man with the accent-- Blue as he was referred to-- would not see this as he did. His lips parted to inform the man supporting him that he too would like to go to the shack when he tripped over a pothole in the road and nearly fell. The pain from his feet was so phenomenal as he stumbled that he quite forgot what his intentions were. Bones nearly had to swing him back over his shoulder again in order to get him up the three stairs to the house and through the red chipped door.

They stepped into a hallway that had, at one time, been magnificent. The floors, though warped with water stains, age and dust, were dark wood, carefully laid so the grain all went the same way. Beneath the damage, he could see it had once been varnished and polished on a regular basis. Where the floor ended and the walls began, there was a similar grey-dirty color to the outside of the house interrupted by covered pictures and candle stands. Pushed against the walls were various pieces of furniture, some covered in sheets while others were freed of their bindings. Above all of this, a high arched roof hovered, supported on beams that matched the floor in color but looked as though they had images carved into them. Several chandeliers dangled from this, covered with cobwebs and candle wax.

The decay of age had brought this place to ruin but the traveler was still awed by its previous splendor. In his mind's eye, he could see flickering white candles in the holders above his head and shiny floors beneath his feet. The candle holders on the walls were shaded with glass covers, casting a color menagerie on the walls. Furniture-- chairs, couches, tables with books and knick knacks-- was uncovered and filled with unfamiliar people who were laughing and chatting. Their clothing was strange to him but not in a completely unknown fashion; it simply seemed to him that they did not regularly wear it. On the walls, the pictures were uncovered, displaying macabre portraits of death and despair. In front of the one closest to him, a dark haired woman with exotic features in a long red dress which accentuated her thin figure stood, a glass of wine in hand. Her hair was styled in ringlets, flowing over her shoulders and framing her face prettily. Next to her, \a dark haired man with pale features and sharp eyes hovered. His ears were slightly pointed at the top.

"Shit, kid," Bones jerked him from the imaginings by shoving him into one of the chairs. His head ached with a sudden ferocity, especially on the left side. Something warm trickled down the side of his face as well as over his upper lip. He reached up to wipe it away but was held back by his companion who'd produced, from nowhere, a handkerchief and was holding it under his nostrils. "Hold this. That's it, we need to stem that flow." He was peering into the traveler's eyes. "Shit. How do you feel?"

"Just as crappy as before," he snipped, now grumpy on top of everything else. The new pain in his head had melded with the old and left him feeling doubly drained. The chair he was sitting in was stiff backed and lumpy, not at all conducive to rest but he was so worn down that he thought he could probably still doze off in it. "What's wrong?"

Bones frowned. "Your bleeding out your nose and ear. Pupils are dilating. Headache? Dizziness?"

He blinked once or twice and pulled the handkerchief away. It was damp with blood already but Bones forced him to reapply it. "Head hurts but I'm no more dizzy than before. Why? What's it mean?"

"Not a clue," Bones said, frustration tainting his words. "Obviously not a good thing though. I want to get you to a room where you can rest." He took the traveler's face in his hands, grasping it more firmly when the traveler tried to pull away, and studied his ear. "Think you can make it just a bit further? I don't want to have to sling you over my shoulder if your head's about to explode."

He shrugged and together, they heaved him from the chair. Bones walked more rapidly now, not letting him take in the hallway with the same fervor. They turned a corner and then entered the second door on the left. By the time they passed into it, he was sweating and panting, trying to keep his arm up and holding the bloody handkerchief. The first thing he noticed was that this room had been a large sitting room. The second thing was that it was considerably cleaner than the other parts of the house he'd seen. While still a bit musty, the furniture was all uncovered and the thick, rich carpeting on the ground did not send out plumes of filth when he stepped onto it. The walls had pictures, still draped over, but most of this place was lined with bookshelves. He could see more people, unfamiliar and yet, people he knew, staying here, too, laughing and reading and celebrating. To his left was a young woman with blonde hair done up in a bun dressed in a dark, blue dress which brought out her eyes. She turned to him, smiled and said, "Who would've thought you cleaned up so well, Kirk?"

"That's 'Captain Kirk' to you," he returned playfully.

Then he was on a couch, half propped up against the arm, Bones holding the handkerchief in one hand and clutching his wrist in the other. Blood from his nose was running down the back of his throat now, causing him to gag a bit. He swallowed hard, trying to force it away from his taste buds and grimaced both at the nausea that ensued and the throbbing agony it movement caused his head.

"Easy," Bones soothed. "Just hold still. You with me again?"

He hadn't passed out so the question was a bit disconcerting. Sure, he'd spaced for a moment but he'd been basically aware of his surroundings. "Didn't go anywhere in the first place."

"Of course not. Except for fainting thing. Luckily, we were nearly at the couch so I dragged you the last bit of it."

"I don't pass out," he argued weakly.

"Bullshit. Since I've met you, you've passed out twice. And judging by your color, I wouldn't be surprised-- though I'd really prefer you stayed awake until I'm sure your brain isn't hemorrhaging-- if you do it again." Bones held up a hand. "How many fingers?"

"Two and a thumb."

"Close enough," Bones conceded, pulling back the handkerchief and frowning. "I need to see if we have something better lying around for this and grab my med kit from Blue. Take this," he guided one of the traveler's hands up, "and stay awake until I get back. Got it?" The traveler gave him a lazy slur of an answer and his eyes narrowed. "You are staying awake."

"Course I am," the traveler muttered irritably. "Just a bit hazy is all. Think I'm allowed to be."

Bones gave him an eye roll. "Two seconds. I need you to stay up for two seconds."

"One, two. Now what?"

"Smart ass," the older man muttered as he crossed the room. "Your eyes better be staying open."

He didn't answer, tilting his head back instead so that he could stare up at the ceiling. The carvings in the hallway extended to here too but his vision was not strong enough to make out the details of it. As he focused, again the laughing and music came to him and for the first time, he wondered if this was not, in fact, a figment of his overactive imagination but instead, a memory. The men in their smart blue outfits mixed with the women who wore every color imaginable. Some of them did not look quite right, their bodies shaped differently, their skin color not the same as his, their eyes too big or too many. This did not bother him overmuch. What bothered him more was a perfectly normal looking pair mingling with the others.

"Bloody, stuck up wankers," a familiar voice intoned. Blue walked up to him, pulling at his collar and looking decidedly out of place. "I dunnae know how ye talked me into this."

"Loosen up," he heard his own voice urge. "Have a drink. Flirt with Ensign Gonzalez from Communications."

The man rolled his eyes. "Can't flirt in a monkey suit, Captain. And it would be a wee bit easier to relax if ye didn't look like a hunted man yerself."

A slap on his face brought him back to real life in a wave of colors and images. The house was, once again, dirty and faded. Bones was back, annoyed and nervous at the same time, a fresh piece of cloth in hand to replace the sodden handkerchief. But he was not what interested the traveler. On Bones's other side, closer to the traveler's feet, stood a dark young woman wearing an overlarge shirt and a pair of greying pants. Her hair was pulled up into a messy bun but there was no mistaking her large brown eyes and gorgeous face.

"Damn it," Bones cursed. "Did you even try?"

He ignored the question. "You were wearing the red dress," he said to her. "And you were with the man."

"Is he delirious, Gruff?" she addressed to Bones with a frown.

"Yes--" Bones started

"No," he interrupted. "No, I remember. You… you and the man with the pointed ears. And the guy with the accent-- Blue…" The throbbing in his head took on a sharper edge and warmth started down the right side of his face too. "And Bones," he met the man's eyes. "You're called Bones."

"No more talking," Bones snapped. To the woman, he said, "Go find Blue and see where he put the med kit. I was going to do it myself but I don't want to leave him alone." She nodded and slid gracefully from the area without a sound. "How do you feel?"

Bad; before he'd felt pretty poor, but now he felt downright bad. "You think I'm crazy but I know you're called Bones. And I saw her. In the dress. In here. And there was a girl with blonde hair…"

"Listen, kid, as far as I'm concerned, everything in this place is crazy. You, me, her, Blue and your pointy eared friend. I don't know who I am, where I am or how I got here but I have a very particular set of skills which suggests I knew a lot more not so long ago. So, yeah, I think you're crazy but I am pretty damn sure the rest of are too. Now, shut up."

He did but not because Bones told him too. Shutting up kept his head from vibrating with sounds which made his mind erupt in discomfort and confusion. It was not unbearable pain-- that came from his much abused feet instead-- but a disorienting twinge rapidly pounding its way through his skull. It struck him the worst when he pondered on the memories and so, for the moment, he retracted to regular thoughts such as, who he was, who these people with him were, and how very, very much he would like to sleep. Even with Bones's persistent cajoling, he kept nodding off. The occasional pats on the cheek brought him around, enhanced by sudden bursts of nausea. By the time the accented man had reappeared with the woman who'd worn the red dress, he was slumped into the corner of the couch not even trying to help Bones stem his bleeding. He was tired, cranky and desperately empty.

"Ye look worse every time I look at ye," Blue told him. "Maybe ye're allergic."

Bones rolled his eyes. "Darling, do me a favor and hold this. I'm going to see if anything in here looks useful." The girl took up his position next to the couch, grimacing a bit at the bloody cloth. He studied her carefully as she leaned closer and there was no doubt in his mind that she was the same woman from his vision. Even though it hurt much worse to think about, he double checked her hair, facial features and barely there curves and the results were conclusive. She was the woman and, when he'd seen her, she'd been close to the man with the pointed ears. That thought reminded him of his earlier decision and he straightened a bit. The accented man had departed by this point-- he saw a flash of blue shirt as he rounded the corner and out of sight-- and Bones was pawing through various odd instruments.

"I'd like to stay out in the shed," he garbled and then swallowed down a bout of blood.

The woman raised an eyebrow at him. "Hold still."

"What?" Bones raised his head from his med kit. "What the hell are you talking about?"

He cleared his throat and marveled at how the couch he was on swayed. Dropping his head down to the edge of the couch, much to the woman's distaste, he repeated. "I'd like to stay out in the shed. My traveling companion is staying there. It wouldn't be fair if I stayed here." Somehow, it made sense to him. Solidarity with the weirdo or something; he was a weirdo, too, after all, with his sudden flashes in memory.

"You're out of your fucking mind," Bones growled. "You're too sick to be anywhere other than inside and in a bed. And if you don't remember, he attacked you, kid. He's not exactly a welcomed house guest."

"He didn't attack me," the traveler said for what must've been the fourth or fifth time. His vision was going a bit funny and his words were coming out thick, split in syllables and almost incomprehensible. "He was trying to find out who I was. He was helping me..." The orange-grey tear came to mind. "Helping me remember..."

The woman pressed harder. "Gruff, he's really bleeding bad here."

"Hence why he's making no friggin' sense." He turned back towards the couch, hypo in hand. "Sorry, kid, but you're a patient and he's an unknown. You both gotta stay where you are." And before the traveler could even think to pull away, he jabbed the hypo into his neck. His world faded about him gently going from colored to black and white, then mixing to grey. His last thought was that all of this was somehow connected and that it was up to him for figure out how.