hook, Amnesia!Charlie, sad
Charlie sits, leaning against the cabin wall. Why’d he come out here?
The leaves of the forest tremble with the wind, and he breathes it in deeply. There had been a longing. A want. A need. Now that he was here, though, what was there for him to do?
The stars are bright. They twinkle at him, bringing a sort of peace with them. Actually, stars aren’t supposed to do that: twinkling becomes flashing, brightening, swirling, growing.
He straightens from his lean and watches in awe as it seems a hole appears just above the treeline. What in the world?
There’s a shriek and something white falls. Charlie runs and dives, hands reaching out, and the full weight of this thing lands on him. They slide on the ground and he realizes in the next moment that he’s broken something catching her. The pain lances up through him and he’s thankful that it’s at least him this happened to. The bundle in his arms wriggles and pulls a hood down from her head. Her eyes grow wide.
“Ch-Charlie?”
He blinks. “Um… yes, uh… th…”
Her eyes are swollen from crying and it’s now that he sees that she’s covered in blood. Her hands are shaking as she reaches out and touches his face, runs her fingers through his hair.
“Charlie… oh, gods, my Charlie!”
“Ma’am… clearly you’ve been in an accident… are you okay?”
“You’re alive…”
“I have been all my life. Er, may I have access to my arms? They’re. Um. Broken. And the adrenaline is wearing off.”
The woman obliges, already weeping over his arms. Charlie, meanwhile, takes a breath. Bones crunch and slide back into place. Bruises bloom backwards and his fingers tingle. He hisses with the pain and pushes himself off the ground, only to be hugged tightly by the strange woman before him.
“Charlie! I’m so relieved! When you fell…! When they cut you…! I thought… you were dead…”
“This is… awkward. I don’t know you, ma’am. Is it ma’am? Mixter?”
Her face pales and she reaches out, yanking his shirt up, touching his stomach as she sees a long scar across him. He steps back and pulls his shirt down, looking ill. She points, mouth agape. “It is you… but… you…” Tears start to form and her lip trembles. “…you’ve forgotten…”