|A/N| Greetings and salutations, my beautiful readers!

Sorry for disappearing on you all! I've been working through some real life things, as well as working on a new writing project (and many new AUs) with a good friend of mine. Hopefully this chapter can make up for my absence~ I hope it's alright!

Alrighty! That's all I have to say. Hope you enjoy your reading!

21 September, 2015

Greenlee, Arizona (USA)

"Take your feet off the dashboard or so help me..."

Heracles looked at his half-cousin, before rolling his eyes, strumming a few more notes on the old guitar he held. He had insisted on taking it with to his school. The reason why was beyond Sadik; Heracles hated the lessons he had to attend for the instrument. "Make me, Sadik. You're not my mom, and this is her truck. She always let me put my feet on the dashboard."

"Yeah, well, it's my truck now. Hestia left it to me. And I say get your feet off the dashboard." Sadik huffed, smacking Heracles' leg with a spared hand before fixing his mask. It had been slipping down his face, obstructing his view of the road, so now seemed like the best time to fix it: The road was clear and quiet, the hot Arizonan sun beating down on the truck and desert surrounding them from all angles. It reminded him of Egypt, living there for over a year, and he had to push away the familiar sting of homesickness for Europe that bloomed up in his gut.

He was a man now. No time to worry about that. Especially with having to keep four little cousins in check.

Heracles stuck his tongue out at him, "Just because mom left it to you doesn't mean it's yours. She's gonna come back one day, I know it."

Again with this? Gritting his teeth, Sadik refused the urge to stop right in the middle of the road and give the stubborn teen a little lesson on the merciless bitch known as Life. It was getting old, this insisting that Hestia would magically show up again. "I know you're still grieving, Hera, but she's gone." He mumbled, voice dull. Lifeless. He had gone through this explanation before. "She's been gone for a long time now. And the sooner you accept that she's not coming back, the easier moving on will get. For both of us."

A sour chord was struck on the guitar—something Heracles' therapist has insisted upon, as a "healthy outlet for negative emotions," in her own words—and then silence followed. There wasn't even a radio to turn on; the pickup so old the radio had been shattered and was no longer in working condition. Same for the air conditioner. Luckily enough, the two in the car were used enough to heat not to feel like they were melting.

Suddenly, Heracles spoke up, "Hey, Sadik...Pull over. I think I see something out there..." He was squinting outside, trying to see through the dirt-smudged windows of the truck.

"Fine," Sadik sighed, already getting ready to pull over. If he didn't obey the command, Heracles would whine and complain; make him feel bad that he didn't. "But if it's something stupid, I'm leaving you out here to walk home." He lied as the truck stopped, the younger of the two flinging his door open and hopping out, leaving his guitar behind.

After a few seconds of silence, Heracles yelped out a shaky, "Sadik! Come here!"

The urgency in the Greek's voice had Sadik by his side in an instant. "Hera, what..." His eyes fell on the figure laying on the ground, the image stealing the rest of his sentence from him. He kneeled down, body reacting before he knew what he was doing. He pressed his fingers to the body's wrist, feel his heart leap as he felt a (albeit weak) pulse. Thank God. They hadn't found a dead body.

He gently scooped the person—male, with short black hair and pale-turned-sunburnt skin—into his arms and turned his head towards Heracles. "Open the back door. We need to get this guy back home, fast. He's probably dehydrated and developed some heat stroke."

If it was any other time, Heracles would probably complain about being bossed around, but now he just nodded. Sadik was thankful, taking the man to the truck and setting him down gently, making sure he was secure before jumping into the driver's seat. Hopefully they could get home in time for Sadik to gather enough supplies to take care of the problem before the paramedics could be contacted...

.

Kiku woke up with a pounding in his head. He felt unstable, like he was floating. And dizzy. And tired. Everything you don't want to be, when waking up in a strange place or not. Every muscle in his body ached, his face was uncomfortably warm, and the coolness of whatever he was laying on chilled him to the bone. Where...was he?

The sound of a door opening caught his attention. Forcing his head to turn towards the noise, Kiku watched as a boy walked into the room, holding a tray with a pitcher and a glass full of ice in it. His eyes widened when they met with Kiku's, before going back to a neutral look. He walked over, setting down the tray and poor a glass of water. The sudden realization of how thirsty he was hit Kiku like a train as he watched the water hit the ice.

"Drink." The boy commanded, voice raspy and quiet. "Slowly. You are dehydrated. Drinking quickly may sound tempting, but it will not help things."

Kiku blinked stupidly, the cold shot through his fingers, all the way through his body. He took a sip of the water, relishing the liquid's soothing effect on his dry throat. He took a few more drinks, trying to ignore the boy watching him with sharp eyes, before he finally worked up enough courage to speak. "Where...am I? W-Who are you?" He winced at his own voice. It was like a middle school boy's; cracking with every emphasis.

"Gupta. That is my name." He pressed a hand to his chest, "You are in my oldest cousin's home. We found it only reasonable to house you here, after finding you on the side of the road. If you had been out there longer, you would have died." Could he say that any more casually? Kiku watched as the boy grabbed his emptying glass and poured more water into it. He loaded the pitcher back onto the tray and grabbed it, "I will tell Sadik you are awake. He will like to speak to you."

Not seemed real. Like life itself was out of focus. That was all Kiku could notice as Gupta left the room. He kept his hands wrapped, tightly, around his glass, trying to sort his thoughts.

When had he last been in a place like this? A room like this; ordinary and drab, clearly a guest room, with some potted cacti and simple paintings to decorate it. Blank spots dotted Kiku's mind, white patches where scraps had been cut out and neglected to be fixed up, not even getting the luxury of getting sewn back to join the quilt of his mind. It was disheartening. Not being able to remember.

Kiku forced himself to sit up normally, leaning against the backboard with a sigh. If he listened hard enough, he could make out a voice saying "fate only chooses the lucky." He almost laughed. Well, he was certainly lucky, from what he could tell by Gupta's words.

Again, the door opened, and another man walked in. He was older, wearing a mask and a grin on his face. "Glad to see you're doing alright," He pulled up the chair from the desk in the corner of the room and sat on it, beside Kiku's bed. He raised a hand up and pulled off his mask, revealing warm golden-brown eyes. An uncomfortable feeling shot down his spine, some sort of pain branching down every nerve.

Kiku could swear he had seen those eyes before...

But then the man asked for his name, breaking his train of thought. Kiku gave his name and asked for the man's in return. Sadik; Sadik Adnan. That name definitely wasn't one Kiku had heard before, but the discomfort lingered every time Sadik's eyes met his. What was that feeling...? Whatever it was, Kiku didn't like it. He wanted to get to the root of it.