bakerstreet | Hey, can you tell me what year it is?

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[meme] prompts

Hey, can you tell me what year it is?

Ah, amnesia. The old standby for soap operas, it usually involves a good knock on the head and a complete loss of memory. Ever wanted to do that to your character? Well, now's your chance.

1. Comment with your characters!
2. Others comment. Optionally, go to RNG and roll the scenario. (As to who gets knocked on the head, well, that's up to you!)
3. ???
4. PROFIT.

1. HEAD-ON COLLISION - ...whoops. It was an honest mistake, really! You didn't see that car/tree/post/person/whatever coming, but now you're stumbling out of the wreckage sans memory. Better ask for help.

2. WAIT, WHO ARE YOU? - Okay, so a while ago, you got into...something that caused you to lose your memory. Fortunately, you managed to get by and create a new identity for yourself. Unfortunately, someone new has just entered your life. Or should I say, someone who's a little too familiar...

3. RINSE AND REPEAT - Sigh. Really, this is just so inconvenient. You wake up everyday with no memory of who you are, and have to figure it out over the course of the day, only to fall asleep and have to do it all over again the next day. Good thing someone's there to help you out, right? And what's with all those post-its and notes?

4. THIS ROOM'S TOO WHITE - Welcome to the hospital. You've got an "Unknown" tag on your wrist, a healthy diet of bland hospital food, a steady trickle of doctors coming in to check up on you, and a TV, and nothing else. Looks like someone's coming to help you today, though! Here's to hoping they knew you before you lost your memory.

5. I'M SUPPOSED TO DO WHAT?! - Oh, crap. There's something only you can do right now--that is, the you who didn't lose your memory, anyway. Better figure out a way out of this mess and how to control your strange abilities before it's too late.

6. FIGHTING FOR THE WRONG SIDE - Uh, oh. Looks like your enemies decided to take advantage of your confused state and convinced you that you're on their side. Here's to hoping your allies can get you back to yourself before you cause some serious damage.

7. JUST TOO TRAUMATIC - You just saw something that's so traumatic you lost your memory because of it. Unfortunately, right now, you have to remember it, or else something really bad happens. Hope you don't regret remembering this!

8. I DON'T WANT THIS - You've been living a peaceful, ordinary life, for a while. And you'd rather it stay that way, because you're not sure if you'd want to remember what went before. Unfortunately, something's coming, and the key to stopping it lies in your memories.

9. NO SUCH THING - Maybe you were a wizard, or a werewolf, or an angel, or a demon, or something else entirely before, or maybe you just knew about the masquerade. Sadly, you've been knocked on the head and now believe yourself to be a perfectly ordinary person. Magic? That doesn't exist, right? Anything can be explained with science, after all! Right?

10. I'M WHO?! - And who the hell are you? Basically, this is the wild card option! Combine one of the above or make up a new one or whatever you want! Go wild!

Credit:

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Lucas doesn't like hiding. He considers his options, makes the turn as suggested, before depositing Nyx between some rocks in a comfortable looking place. Hey, the dirt looks padded and soft. Once, Lucas would have slept there with no complaints. He pats Nyx on the head. "Why don't you sit tight?"

He stands, then, and begins turning around, reading himself to fight again.

"Hey!" Immediate protest from the injured man in the dirt as Nyx pushes up to his feet and immediately loses his balance, grabbing onto the nearest rock to stay upright. More lightning crackles over his fingers, sparks in his eyes as he steadies himself, hands clenched into fists.

"Hell... no. Not gonna leave you to fight those bastards alone."

"Real funny," Lucas grumbles, and reaches out to tap his forehead, using an unfair amount of strength to knock the other man backward. "Don't make me knock you out, I'm almost worried you wouldn't wake up."

The footsteps get closer.

Just the tap knocks him back flat on his ass, blinking up at Lucas in shock. Even so, it doesn't keep him up for long. Swaying slightly, Nyx pushes himself back up to his feet, letting the strength of the crystal fuel him. Can't do this too often, sipping from divine power that isn't his to use, power meant to be channeled into the fury of the storm or into raging flames and bitter ice. Nothing will kill him faster, but no matter the cost, he won't let Midnighter fight alone.

"As long as I've got breath left in me," he says softly, bright sparks of light glinting in his eyes, "I'll fight." For you.

The sound of footsteps rounds the corner, followed by shouting.

"Over there! That way, surround them!" Followed by the sound of guns being cocked. Nyx raises his good arm, focusing, and a chill wind blows as an icy shield forms, taking the brunt of the first hail of bullets that flies their way.

"You are really stubborn," Lucas mutters, just as a shot rings out. But, hey, if Nyx wants to do most of the dirty work, fine. The wind knocks both of the gunmen over, and Lucas is all too happy to lumber up to them-- with one broken leg, he's about as fast as a normal person-- and grab their guns. And then, well. He doesn't like using guns, but he's sure as shit not above it. And his aim is never off.

He comes back to Nyx covered in fresh blood, and most of it's not even his.

"You done being dramatic?"

"Sure, soon as you're done being a jackass." Said with a wink and a weak attempt at a smirk. He's steadier on his feet now, and the molten glow of the power coursing through him had dimmed somewhat, drained by casting the shield. The pain of the bulletwound is all but unnoticeable, distant as the moon, but Nyx knows it won't last-- crystal-fueled strength never does.

"Come on, let's go. I can walk."

Lucas pats him on the head, and puts an arm over his shoulder, trying to help heft him up. "C'mon, I think I killed the last of 'em. You feel like you're gonna bleed out and die any time soon? 'Cause I wanna find a safe space to rip this fucker outta my head."

He just won't mention that Nyx has earned his trust, that colossal thing only one other man on the face of the planet has. He wouldn't trust anything or anyone else to watch over his prone form like that.

Nyx just chuckles, leaning into the support of Lucas's arm like it's the easiest thing in the world.

"Not if we make it fast."

Hobbling side by side, the two of them stagger out of the cave and into a clearing, and as promised, Nyx has just about enough juice left in him to make it to the car and whip it around the back to pick Lucas up. And if his white-knuckled grip on the wheel is more than a little shaky, steering wobbly as he drifts in and out of lanes, well, who's gonna complain? Twenty minutes of hard driving through mostly-empty country roads, and he's pulling into the parking lot of a dingy motel, with the last of his strength, pulling Lucas in through the nearest door into the room he'd been staying in for the last week.

And Lucas doesn't know enough about good or bad driving to care; Apollo usually just flies him everywhere. So he sits and fishes around in the car, finding some discarded sweatpants and a T-shirt. Neither really fit him, but that's nothing new; he's used to wearing other people's too-small castoffs.

The motel is nicer than he expected, but he's under awnings and in abandoned gas stations. The bed creaks when he sits down on it. He reaches up, hand on the black box and wires at his back. "You gonna stay awake, or doze off?" His tone of voice makes his preference clear: don't fall asleep on the job.

There's only the one bed and Lucas is sitting on it, so Nyx has settled into the shitty lounge chair tucked into the corner. He's exhausted through and through, shot up, scorched, bruised, woozy from blood loss and running on fumes, and he meets Lucas's hard stare with a flash of a grin, flapping a hand in his direction.

"Don't worry, I'll be keeping watch."

Lucas nods. "Whatever I do or don't remember," he says, "you're a solid guy. Even if your name's still fake as shit." And then he rips the thing out of his neck.

Blood gets everywhere, to start with. The wires come out of his skull, and it's not a pretty sight, especially for how it makes his eyes roll back in his head. He has another quick seizure-- really shouldn't just rip things out of your fucking brain-- and maybe it's clear, now, where so much of that dried blood on his body came from. This is something he's done a few times.

He's out for a good twenty minutes, and that's twenty minutes where his body is desperately healing itself, because ripping things out of your skull kills normal people. It doesn't kill Lucas Trent, though. It doesn't kill Midnighter.

Midnighter wakes up to pain and that's nothing new. There's blood on his back. His leg is fucked up, and his head feels like someone used it for a soccer ball. He's pretty sure he feels a few bullets in his gut. He's... naked? Give him a second, the world's coming back to him slowly as he tries to sit up. "I better've killed whatever did this," he mutters under his breath.

Nyx... isn't prepared for that. Maybe he should've been, but he hadn't expected all the blood, or the way the cords tear away from the base of Midnighter's skull and spine with an awful rending sound. He jumps up from the chair just in time to see Midnighter seize and fall back, limp against the sheets. And despite the fact that he can barely stay standing, Nyx hobbles over to his side, exhaling in a sharp breath of relief to find him still breathing, fingers twitching, movement beneath fluttering eyelids.

Sagging back into the chair, Nyx allows him a moment to just- soak it in, despite everything, the bloody spot on the shitty chair he's sitting in and the way his legs feel like jelly, to bask in the sweet sweet relief of having Midnighter here, safe, where Nyx can protect him. A mission success. Just as promised, he keeps watch, a trembling hand on his blade at all times.

Not for long though.

"Yeah, you did. Pretty damn thoroughly." His voice comes out a croak, but he's smiling.

"Nyx?" Midnighter looks up with a tired smile, and there he is. "Nyx." The smile grows a little brighter when his vision clears, focusing as the last of the black spots and fuzz dissipate.

And then... all the memories come back. Two weeks in a cell. Injections and experimentation. A distress signal. His memory going to shit, and Nyx showing up, trying to kill him and hurting him just because he was angry and hurting himself, and- Midnighter is rushing forward, reaching out before he thinks better of it. Fuck, he hurt Nyx, and Nyx got fucking shot over it. Oh, fuck, how did he fuck up this badly?

"Shit, shit. I'm so sorry, I- I'll fix this." Only then does he reach for Nyx. "I'll make sure it's okay. I promise. Door."

And the portal opens to the God Garden, all glittering green and dark. An old woman in a qipao waits for them there, brow furrowed in concern. "Son?"

"I'm not your damn son," Midnighter growls. "Now fucking help me."

Midnighter rushes forward, and the first thing Nyx can't help but think was- did it not work? Is he hurt worse? But then, apologies and a hand on his arm before he's getting pulled forward, stumbling through the golden portal.

"-Huh?"

"Sh, babe," Midnighter says, still naked and covered in blood. All he can do is kiss Nyx's temple as the Gardner summons a few gurneys. He turns to her as he sits down on one. "You do anything but fix the fucking bullet wound and whatever the fuck I did to his wrist, and I'll fucking kill you." He directs this at the demure woman handing him a blanket for modesty.

"You have threatened to kill me many times, Midnighter." She is very calm about it.

"And I mean it every time," he says, before lying down. "Put us in the same room. And give him some fluids, I think the magic he was using or whatever fucked him up."

"Magic?" The Gardener looks over at Nyx with interest.

"Don't even think about it."

Caught up in the whirlwind of motion and still a little woozy while trying to focus on five things at once- brush of a kiss against his temple, the old woman Midnighter keeps snapping at, the futuristic floating stretchers, the room they're in, lit dimly in green, the curved walls ribbed with tubing, strangely organic despite all the metal, where the fuck are they?- Nyx follows Midnighter's lead with an uncharacteristic lack of protest. Except:

"Don't know what the fuss is all about." Said with a weak smile, trying (and failing) for reassurance. "I'm fine, Midnighter. Mostly tired. Getting shot just makes it a Tuesday." If Nyx had a ten gil for every time he's been shot, he'd be able to buy a few solid rounds for the squad. As it is, he's not sure what the fussing is all about. And he's already put the sprained wrist out of his mind altogether.

The gurneys slide off on their own, and Midnighter reaches an arm out to keep their close, not trusting anything in this place. As they turn a corner down a glowing green highway, Midnighter pulls closer, planting another kiss on Nyx's cheek. "You've done so much for me," he murmurs, low, "lemme do one thing for you."

Because he's tired and hurting, but he can heal. Nyx is only human, and he came anyway. If Midnighter knew it would be as bad as that, he'd never have- but it's too late now. Nyx might be dying, he might not be. Midnighter isn't clear on the details; he's never understood magic. But like hell if he's not gonna do everything in his power to help.

The gurneys turn into a sparse room, still green but a little better lit, and Midnighter reaches for medical equipment hanging from the ceiling. The Gardener never apologizes in words, but she does in actions; these IV bags have anesthetics and painkillers in them. One has a large M stamped on the side, and a circular crescent moon insignia underneath; it's strong enough for him. He shoves the needle into his wrist. He holds the needle of the other bag out to Nyx. "This'll heal you up faster. Might knock you out, too, but you won't wake up groggy. If it wasn't obvious, this is where all my medical shit comes from."

Nyx eyes the needle with some misgivings-- here he is, injured in some strange alien room, being offered to shoot up with some unknown medicine. But he trusts Midnighter with his life, so... here goes. Gingerly, he takes the needle from Midnighter, uncaps the point, and slides it into the vein of his arm.

The reaction is almost immediate- Nyx slumps back into the gurney, fast asleep.

Midnighter can't help grinning when Nyx passes out; he suspected the other man was under more pressure than he was letting on. He also can't help leaning over to kiss his forehead.

Not trusting the Gardener, Midnighter looks over Nyx himself; he only lets medical droids or equipment touch him after he's looked it over. Nyx will wake up shirtless in clean medical scrubs, with his wrist in a cast and his bullet wound sewn up.

He'll also find Midnighter has pulled down the dividers of their gurneys and strapped them together; Midnighter is wearing matching medical scrubs, cleaned of all the blood and dirt he's carried on his skin for days. His leg is in a cast, pins sticking out of the side and elevated by wires hanging from the ceiling. He's got gauze and stitches over the bullet wounds in his gut. He bitched at the Gardener until she provided a hat, a little grey beanie to put over his bald fucking head.

Midnighter is asleep, sprawled out on the gurney with his head on Nyx's shoulder.

Nyx wakes up and... despite the anesthesia, everything is breathtakingly painful. Ow. Ow. That's how it always goes, after he pulls some idiot stunt and has to draw from the crystal after. So he just lies there a moment, sucking in slow lungfuls of air, letting the memories filter back to him in bits and pieces. The mission had been a success, Midnighter is safe, and as for Nyx... well, at least he's not covered in blood anymore. Silver linings.

Midnighter is a warm weight against his shoulder. Just looking at him like this- for once at rest, injured but healing, lit by the faint green glow of the lights, makes something squeeze tight in his chest, hot and helpless and beyond tender. Is this what it's like? To feel...

Smothering a wince as sore muscles twinge, Nyx leans over to press a light kiss to Midnighter's beanie-covered head.

Midnighter is a naturally light sleeper for a variety of reasons, and this is only compounded by sleeping on a cushioned surface. He huffs, and listens to the computer wirring back to life-- enemy nearby in compromised state, strike now.

He smiles when he opens his eyes. Nyx. "Hey, gorgeous." He kisses back, catching Nyx's chin. "Liking the decor?"

Midnighter feels his sense of... everything returning. The questions will probably come next, all very warranted. He tries not to feel anxious about that; the best response is just diving in.

Has Midnighter always been this handsome, or is it just-- Nyx leans into the kiss with a pleased grin but there's a tentative edge to the curl of his lips as he looks Midnighter over once more.

"Sure, it's definitely a, uh, change."

Nyx has probably fewer questions than expected. Even after everything, he doesn't want to pry, doesn't want to go digging into anything private or personal that Midnighter isn't willing to share.

"So where are we? What's all this?"

"God Garden," Midnighter says immediately. Just get it over with, like ripping a knife out of a stab wound. Stalling doesn't help. "Where I was made. Same place the Doors and my apartment comes from. The most technologically advanced hunk of junk in the galaxy."

He resists the urge to squirm away, playing at comfort, head still resting on Nyx's shoulder. "That's in space. We're orbiting Earth."

"...Right."

He's trying not to already sound overwhelmed, but he definitely, definitely is. In space? In Eos, the stars were supposedly the domain of the gods and celestials. Nyx isn't particularly religious, but he'd also never really thought about what it meant to go past the sky and into the vast void beyond. That's not where human belong.

Where I was made. Lucas had said something about a creator (he's mentioned a creator and a monster), Bendix. Is this Bendix person also nearby? Or the old woman they'd seen, did she have a part in this?

...why would Midnighter come back to this place, where he'd been kidnapped and tortured?

"So this is... home for you?"

Midnighter snorts. He reaches over and gives Nyx the answer he once gave Andrew, putting his hand over Nyx's chest. "No, this is home."

Space is just fucking space.

"The Gardener is trying to repent, do better. She's fucking awful at it, but she's trying. And I'm trying to make sure she doesn't slip up and make more monsters like me. To apologize for torturing me and shit, she lets me use her tech sometimes. The Doors and this shit, it's better than anything you'll find in a hospital on Earth."

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