A/N:

I am returning with another daily update challenge. Challenging myself to write daily helps me focus, and will, in turn, inspire me to update my other works. I will also say this, the rating is tentative. It may rise or lower depending on how things pan out.

Word Count: 887

As We Fall

By Catsitta

Prologue:

Pain. All he felt was pain. Every muscle cried out in complaint as he struggled to draw in even shallow breaths. Instinct demanded that he rise from where he lay, for a body in motion is less likely to fall prey to the enemy than one prone upon the ground. However, it proved a physical impossibility for him to act upon his most primal drives, for his limbs were unresponsive to the demands of his nervous system. Even his fingertips refused to do more than weakly twitch, and even that meager motion sent a spear of pain lancing up through his veins.

Groaning, he opened his eyes, hoping to survey his situation and evaluate the potential dangers. What he saw elicited an agonized gurgle from the depths of his throat. Or, better said, what he did not see. The world was but a smear of water-soaked color and shades of grey. Very little light penetrated through the murkiness, but what did, seared him. In an instant, his eyes were clamped shut, moisture burning hot at the corners of clenched lids.

It was not tears that threatened to spill. Nay, it was blood.

The very same blood that pulsed in his veins and pounded in his ears. That he could taste coppery-sweet in his mouth. That oozed from the raw, seeping wounds cross marking the entirety of his form.

Was this how he would die? Alone and slowly bleeding out.

It was then that questions began buzzing in the back of his pain muddled mind. How did he get here, in this state? Where was "here"? Who did this to him?

Who was he?

Immediately, his breathing stilled and his heart picked up in tempo until it threatened to burst through his chest.

Desperately, he clawed consciously at his memories and found them to be nonexistent. Not a single shred remained…Not a hint at his name. His occupation. His age…Nothing. By Gaia! What had happened? Had he been attacked? Mugged perhaps? Did he jump from a building? Panic sized him, and soon he began to thrash about, ignoring the pain that had previously been restraining him.

Blind, injured and stricken with amnesia—what else was he supposed to do? Lie there?

Something sharp bit into his left hand, and instead of releasing it like a sane person would, he grasped it tightly, savoring the sensation. Glass, he determined quickly. He dropped it, before returning to his writhing and groping. His left foot knocked against something vaguely metallic, a trash can. His other hand dug deep into the dirt beneath him. Words were easily matched to sounds and sensations, but none of it relieved him of the chaotic nothingness that now haunted him. Why could he recognize objects but recall nothing of himself? Wasn't ones identity more precious than knowing the texture of sand or remembering some incessant song…

Song…He grew still again, the pain returning to his body in a flood. But still, he heard it. Music. A melody. So achingly familiar yet…unknown. Slowly, he attempted to ease himself to his elbows, but again, all strength abandoned him, and his limbs refused all command. His shoulders quivered, but in the end, he collapsed, every inch of him throbbing. Bleeding. Aching. He ground his teeth, ignoring the grit that clung to his lips and tongue and stung at his raw throat.

Mercy, he wanted to beg. But his pride—his insufferable, damnable pride—held any outcry at bay. He was alone in this…alleyway…street…whatever he happened to be. No one would rescue him. He did not need rescuing. Needing a savior was for the weak! Blearily, he opened his eyes again.

This time, he did not even see light.

Trapped in darkness, something violent inside of him wrenched and twisted like a dagger. Was it anger? Was it fear? Was it…acceptance? As quickly as the sensation reared its ugly head, it coiled again, fading away from his consciousness. It was then that his focus returned to the mysterious music. Wordless. Intoxicating. Real. It had to be real…

If it were real, it meant he was not alone.

He did not want to be alone.

Not anymore.

As he allowed his sightless eyes to clip shut, he shuddered. Beneath the pain of raw wounds, there was the flush of something else. Something warm. Fever perhaps? He did not know. He hated not knowing. He hated this helplessness. This…confusion. He simply wanted things to make sense.

He needed a light in the darkness.

Footsteps. He could hear footsteps, dainty and slow. And the music revealed itself to be a feminine hum, before abruptly cutting off with an astonished gasp. Something light hit the ground…like a bag or basket. Then the footsteps grew louder. Quicker.

Hands touched his face, delicately, so as not to touch his wounds.

Insult intermingled with relief inside of his chest, and for some reason, he was uncertain whether or not to tell the girl off or to thank her for coming to his aid. Either way, if did not matter, for no words escaped his throat, only a raspy hiss that snaked a scalding path from his burning lungs.

"Oh goodness," the girl murmured. "What happened to you?"

He could offer no reply, for it was those words that chased him into the depths of a sensationless slumber.

Tbc

A/N: ( Yup. Another timefic. Pairings? Maybe a hint here and there to give it flavor. Care to guess who our lovely protagonist is?

This idea had a half-dozen different titles before I chose this one. Assume from them what you will: "Chase" "Thrill of the Chase" "Catch Me As I Fall" "Catch Me If You Can"…)