Disclaimer: Gundam Seed is not mine.

Forgotten Memories

He woke up in a hospital bed in excruciating pain. As he tried to move, he realized he couldn't do it. All he could see were bandages that perhaps covered his entire head. His face felt like it was on fire, and as he looked down, he saw what he assumed were his legs, covered in blood stained bandages. He wanted to scream but found that his mouth could not even move. He tried to remember why he was here, why he was wrapped in bandages but he couldn't focus. He was in unbearable pain that he was just hoping he'd pass out. A flurry of activities, men and women in white, and suddenly the pain started to recede. His memory suddenly grasped a name as he felt himself blacking out: Murrue.

……

He woke up not knowing the number of days he was asleep. His limbs seemed to belong to him once again, and when he lifted his arms, he could see that they too were covered in white linen cloth. He looked out and saw it was morning. Of what month and date he didn't know. He tried to remember what his last thoughts were before passing out again last time but he can't quite find a grip on it. He couldn't even remember his name.

The door opened and a man in white entered.

"A, you are awake. Finally, we've been waiting for you to wake up for over a month and a half now. How are you feeling today? Are you still feeling a lot of pain from your burns? It should be less painful by now. The burn was right through the muscles so it is taking longer to heal."

Burns? Where did he get the burns? The doctor seemed to have read his thoughts, or perhaps his eyes betrayed him.

"You don't remember? Well, well, I see. You were in the last battle and you were brought in by one of our battleships. You were badly burnt, and you were actually only brought in only for cremation and a proper burial. Imagine their surprise when you suddenly started screaming inside the body bag."

He just continued looking at the doctor more confused than ever. The doctor seemed sympathetic.

"Don't worry. It will come back to you. Really, if you've survived this far, jogging your memory will be no problem. I'm not at all worried. You're the guy who is famous for making the impossible, possible."

What in the world is he talking about? The doctor continued on his prattle while checking his bandages.

"Well, that's it for now. If you feel anything, pain or whatever, just press this button here and the nurses will come and help you. It's an honor to serve you, Sir."

The doctor gave a mock salute and smiled at him as he closed the door.

……..

After a few days, he was already able to move his fingers. He was given a notebook computer that had a voice synthesizer so he was now able to talk to the nurses and doctors. He still could not use his legs but still at least he was not totally useless. Besides, for what he was doing, he really didn't need legs.

He was on the internet and he was searching for news archives of the last war. He found out more information on what had happened, the destruction of Junius 7, the launch of the neutron jammers, the war that just seemed to have kept on escalating until the fateful day when the so-called Genesis was used and destroyed. He was given a medal of honor for the last war, for his bravery and for God knows what. He really couldn't remember. It was bizarre reading about all the things that he's done, or at least what they say he's done. He couldn't remember any of it and it felt weird reading about himself.

The doctors told him that it was no mistake when he asked them about his identity. The DNA test confirmed that he was indeed who they think he was. How he ended up in space at the time of the last battle was a mystery that not even the military can help with. On record, his last orders were to ship to Panama before the destruction of Alaska and since the boat that he was supposed to take was destroyed before reaching Panama, he was presumed dead.

He rubbed his eyes; he was starting to develop a headache again. He logged off and put the notebook on the side table and then he closed his eyes. What happened between Alaska and the last battle? Of his last known mission, bringing the Archangel to Alaska, only two other crew members seemed to have an entry: Lieutenant Natarle Badgiruel and Ensign Fllay Allster, both confirmed dead. Lieutenant or rather Captain Badgiruel died in Dominion while Ensign Fllay Allster died along with Dominion's other crew members as they tried to escape. Everything else was highly classified, no mention of names, not even a mention of what happened to the Archangel. Perhaps, he thought, they all perished in the war and the legged ship sank in Alaska. It was odd though, he thought, because shouldn't they be given medals as well? His headache was worsening so he decided he needed to just sleep it off. All this thinking is making his head spin. He buzzed for the nurse so he can get something for his headache and perhaps sleeping pills.

…

It had been a couple of months. He was back to work. Surprisingly, his memory of military strategies, of flying and piloting mobile armors seemed to be intact. His return to work started with simple flight simulation exercises which he was able to complete however hard the missions were. He started teaching once more although he was still wrapped up in bandages. His face needed a lot of reconstruction and it didn't help that he was still stuck in a wheelchair. He was still doing therapy a couple of times a week but it was progressing faster than normal.

He was busy but always it felt like there was something he needed to find, someone he needed to talk to perhaps even be with. It didn't help that he had dreams of her, that woman whose name continue to elude him. She appears to him in his dreams, clad in white, always with a sad look on her face, telling him to come back to her. Always a white sealed coffin will then rise up to view, with a rose on it. What in the world was that? He could have her face drawn; it was easy enough for him to describe her in detail, her lips that at times he was so sure he had tasted not just once. But making a portrait of her, it will only be a concrete reminder of her. He was afraid he will be forever chasing a ghost and he wasn't even sure what he would do if he finds her. He was after all still chasing after his own memories.

He entered his private apartment inside the base, checking the mail just before stepping in to his house. There were only a few of them who were accorded the privilege of having a house in the base in such apartments. His was overlooking a lake, a huge dining room area, a kitchen which he never uses, a living room, a home office equipped with the latest in video conferencing and computer technology, two bedrooms, a master bath and all the amenities that can perhaps sustain a family of three.

He sifted thru his mail and found nothing, he supposed they were friends but he could not remember any of them. He directed his wheelchair to the kitchen and grabbed a beer.

He went to the patio that had the view of the lake and stayed there to look at the stars. Today was worse than other days. He was going around the base when he saw a serviceman leaving with his whole family with him. That was when it hit him, he was alone, and even worse, he didn't even know who he was. They keep on referring to him as Major La Fllaga, but still who was that? He was a hero in their eyes, telling him of all his heroics that inspired them to fight on but that was such a heavy burden to carry. He felt so disconnected to all of it. At times he wanted to scream at them to leave him alone but it wouldn't be what Major wonderful would have done, would it? And so he would smile and make excuses and leave his fawning audience.

He could end it all of course. But she haunts him and her pleas for him to come back to her. And for an unexplainable reason he wants to fulfill that promise. But not yet, he had to find himself first. So for now, all he could do as he closed his eyes and feel that unbearable loneliness, he sought for her face once more, his only solace, his angel with no name.