Silence. That was all he knew. Before, he had known countless things. What wild plants could be eaten and what ones were poisonous, and how to make a fire and the best way to catch a fish. He could dress a wound and dig out a bullet—could shoot them as well—and put a dislocated shoulder in place. He could drive cars, fly planes and helicopters, and was sure that if he tried, he could operate a motorcycle, too. That knowledge was all but pointless now, nothing but a means for entertainment in this utter nothingness.

It was like floating in darkness. No, that wasn't right. He wasn't floating, nor was he standing or sitting or lying down. He simply was. A mind separated from its body, simply existing in the center of oblivion. His physical form had long since faded. Or at least, he thought it had. It had been forever since he had felt the weight of gravity tugging at skin, the beat of a heart and blood through veins and air rushing in and out of his lungs. He had forgotten what it felt like to… feel. It was like his nerves had been shut down. He couldn't see, couldn't hear, taste, smell, or feel. At first it had been terrifying to be virtually nonexistent, mind aside. Even now, the thought terrified him. Simply staying here—wherever that was—alone until the end of his life. Supposing he wasn't dead already.

Sometimes he would sing. He couldn't keep a tune to save his life, but no one was listening. It was his mind, after all. Sometimes he would think about life before… this. It was fuzzy, no names or faces ever came to him, but he could recall a voice, a smile, a pair of blue eyes that seemed to mean more to him than anything else. Mostly, though, he was "asleep". That was when his subconscious mind came into play, and he dreamed. He had little memory of the dreams, but he knew they were there. That was when his old life would return, when the names would be remembered and he knew once again what it was like to live and love and be a human being.

Then he would wake up, and the memories would be gone and he wished with all his being that he could cry.

It was seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years (it was impossible to tell. Time was meaningless Here) later when something crept into his darkness and he felt a prickle. The sudden sensation made his core freeze and panic flare in his mind. All at once, chaos broke into his world of nothing. There was a creak that made his ears ring and light pierced his eyes, making them burn even as his eyelids screwed tightly shut. Hands were everywhere, grabbing, tugging, pulling at him and every single touch was agony. A scream pierced the air and he realized it was himself, his throat aching from the sudden use after being neglected so long.

He shrieked, clawing at the hands, the feeling of his nails digging into skin and the shouts pounding, tearing apart his ears his flesh was being scalded. The light hurt, why was it so bright? His heart was pounding, it hurt so badly, his breathing was far too fast. His screams turned into garbled words, "Let me go, let me go, it hurts, please stop, just kill me, KILL ME!"

There was a final prick that sent his nerves howling before his mind went fuzzy and he collapsed.

The feeling of sheets against his naked skin was nearly unbearable. It was a relief when his eyes opened and everything was pitch black. He couldn't see a thing, and he had never been so relieved. He shifted, letting out a sharp hiss when the material rubbed against his flesh. The noise only hurt him more.

For a long time, he was alone in that room. His nerves began to calm as they grew used to working again. After a while, there was a quiet rattle. The noise was grating to the ears, but not quite unbearable. A creak replaced the noise and a dim glow hit his eyes. He groaned in protest, but it came out as a hoarse whimper. Immediately the light went out, and he was blind again.

Hesitant footsteps filled the silence, then the mattress dipped down and he heard someone—or something—clamber onto it. Then a voice, soft and blissfully quiet, reached his ears. "Shinichi?"

Something in that voice struck his heart. His breath caught, body tensing, and his mind screamed.

There was another shift before something touched his face. He gasped and flinched away and the sensation vanished. "Sorry." There was definitely pain in the voice. Not physical pain, but emotional. His heart throbbed for the girl, for surely it was a female. Gritting his teeth, he reached out in the direction of the touch. His fingers found something smooth—a gasp greeted him—and he trailed down. Silken material gave way to soft skin. He trailed down, feeling firm muscle beneath the flesh that turned into bone and then split off into five sections…

A hand. He grasped it, drawing it up towards his face and pressing it to his cheek. He shivered, but kept it there. Electricity was running up and down his spine and it had nothing to do with pain. Suddenly he had the desire to see.

"Turn on the light." His own voice was unfamiliar in his ears. It was dry and raspy. Yet she seemed to understand, for the dim glow appeared a moment later.

He could see the outline of a body in front of him. His hand was cupped over another, that was attached to an arm which led to a torso. His eyes went up, tracing over the curves of her chest and then her neck and finally to her head. Dark locks of hair spilled down, framing a feminine face. His eyes picked out a pair of full lips, a slightly narrow nose, and finally blue eyes that were wide and glistening.

Those eyes…

I…

I know those eyes….

"…Ran?"

Don't ask. I don't know. See what I come up with at 10 O'clock PM?