Child of Dreams
by Kat
NC-17 most likely
Unedited and subject to change
Summary: Amnesia fic
Thank Monica for the start. We shall see where it goes....
And were I but a child of dreams, I would walk all over the world, and were I but a child of dreams, I would sing my song until heard. Sleep my friend this child has come, sleep and you shall see, a whole world of people bowing to a child of dreams... Sleep my friend, sleep but listen to the sound of the coming of dawn. Sleep my friend and you can be waiting for true love to be coming along.
song/poem compliments of an aspiring 10 year old musician by the name of Kat
Darkness drifted around him. He recognized it as such and knew it was wrong somehow. There was enough of him left to determine darkness and him and to wonder where he was. It was comforting this dark place, and yet disturbing also. He knew darkness was not where he was supposed to exist, but he couldn’t say where he was to exist, or for that matter determine who he was. He lifted an arm, noticed the color of it and the texture and recognized it as an arm, and a hairy one at that. The thought spawned a smile, and he recognized that as well. But when he tried to think beyond the now and the things he couldn’t quite remember, his head began to hurt, and then his body, and panic flared along his insides. Not now…not now, and he let the darkness sweep over him and pull him under once more.
The next awareness started much as the first. He recognized the darkness and his existence, but no specifics. This time however, he pushed at the aching in his head and body, trying to see beyond. There was something he had to do, some responsibility that tugged at him. He strained, light fluttering around the edges of his dark realm and he heard… What is that? Crying? Who? A soft hand brushed his brow, and something cool touched his lips. A gently humming voice echoed in his ear, muting the crying. “Sleep now,” it said, and he did.
Time had no meaning in the darkness, except to make him aware that he was. He knew that there was something beyond the place he was and despite the pain that wracked his body, he was determined to move beyond it. It was scent that actually drew him out of the darkness and into memory. How he knew it was a memory was beyond him, but he knew it was. The scent was spicy and exotic, as was the woman sitting before him. He allowed the emotions of the man he had been roll over him. Anger, frustration, guilt, and something softer, nuturing, all connected to the woman before him. He recognized her as important even though he could not remember her name. She looked lost as she sat in front of her candle. When her eyes met his, he felt his stomach clench. Such power, such unconscious need, all wrapped up in a feminine package. Mine, you are mine, he thought. No one will ever hurt you again. She spoke then, and the man he was now had to roll those words through his brain. As they registered, he nodded. “Do you dream?” As the image faded, he focused on the scent and forced himself forward. As his eyes fluttered open, a dry, raspy sound forced itself from his throat. “T’Pol.”
Pain wracked through him, but he forced himself to look around. He knew something now. He dreamed. He dreamed of a beautiful woman, with short dark hair and lovely green eyes, and elf-like ears, and her name was T’Pol. He knew something else too. He was connected to her somehow. She was a part of him that he needed to remember, even more than he needed to remember himself. He shifted, aware he could move. His body screamed in pain, but he moved anyway, rolling from his stomach to his side. His back pulled and objected with sharp stabs of pain. Looking around, he noticed plain white walls surrounding him. The room was sparsely furnished, a play of white on white, as was the bed he lay in. The only source of color seemed to be him. As he forced himself to sit up, he noticed the bandages covering his arms. He held them before him, wondering just what he had done to himself. His eyes were drawn to the right as the sound of a door opening caught his attention. As a feminine form entered, his heart sped up a bit. Disappointment crashed down on him as he realized it wasn’t the one he knew. She was older, and displayed that fact on a time-worn face. It was a gentle face, nonetheless. The warm brown skin and cheerful smile put him at ease.
The woman’s eyes widened as she noticed him sitting up, and she hurried to him. “It is good to see you finally awake.” Her hands fluttered over his brow, then smoothed the bandages on his arms. “You have been quite out of it for a while now.”
The words sounded slurred and slightly off to him, and he knew they were not his own. He waited until she stilled before attempting to talk. The words were difficult, and rusty as if speech were as foreign to him as she sounded. “Wh-where?”
She tipped her head to the side, her brow furrowing as she tried to make out what he was saying. “Where are you?” At his nod she smiled again. “Don’t worry, you are safe here. You are at the temple of Hahnala. It is a sacred place, a sanctuary. All who seek sanctuary are welcome. I am Hahn Leyna.”
Words struggled to the front again. He tapped his chest. “Wh-who?”
The woman’s brow furrowed again. “Who are you?” As he nodded, her smile disappeared and sadness crept into her eyes. “I do not know. We found you in the east cove in a small boat. Your skin was blistered from the sun. You also have several wounds from the whip on your back. So did the young woman with you. We assumed you had fled for Sanctuary.”
“Wo-wo-man?”
“Yes, poor dear. She didn’t make it. Her wounds were too severe. I am so sorry. The Hahn have offered her an honored resting place. We thought perhaps you would join her.”
Pain speared through his heart. Memory flashed through his mind. Angry voices rode on the tide of it. He held her in his arms, his T’Pol, the wound in her side leaking her life’s blood in a sluggish green flow. His hands came up, covering his face. No, she can’t be dead! Whatever will I do?
Hahn Leyna caught his hands, her urgent tone piercing his grief. “Shush now. I cannot bring back the woman, but the children are fine. All of them are fine. You protected them. You must not allow yourself to sink into despair. They need you.”
He heard her words, and registered them, but for all his thoughts, he could not picture them. Perhaps they were no more real than he felt. Darkness tugged at him, and grief, and he allowed them to pull him down. He barely acknowledged as Hahn Leyna guided his head to the pillow. The soft humming he had heard before filtered through his haze, and he knew it, it and the voice that told him to “sleep now.”