Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Look, I didn’t want to have amnesia. At least, I assume I didn’t. That’s the funny thing about amnesia; you forget all the defining things about yourself. Who knows, maybe I really did fantasize about getting amnesia one day and forgetting who I am.

Ok, I’m being kind of dramatic. I still remember my name and I can at least take a guess at how old I am (like 20ish?). But that’s all I’m working with. No wallet, no phone, nothing in my pockets but a stupid pen and a gum wrapper.

I woke up somewhere cold. My head was pounding and it took a herculean effort to open my eyes wide enough to see. I could make out the color gray above me and assumed it was the sky. Which meant that the uncomfy thing I was lying on was the ground. I was too exhausted and dizzy to try and get up just yet. Instead, I looked around and realized I was in an alley. Yippee. I groaned and averted my gaze back to the sky. As I stared at the gray, gloomy sky above me, I tried to remember how I had gotten there, but my mind felt all fuzzy and tilted a few degrees off. I felt like I should be freaking out a little more about not remembering how I got there, but I couldn’t find the energy to be very concerned. Maybe I fell off a building? Why would I be on a building though? Did I trip over a dumpster? Maybe I just really liked taking naps in alleys?

And then it hit me. I must be homeless! That’s why I was sleeping in an alley! Oh, wait, that’s not really something to be excited about. But if I had survived this long sleeping in alleys, then it must not be that bad, right?

(Note to my future self: it’s never a good idea to make statements like, “it’s not that bad” or “what could go wrong?” because then the universe likes to immediately slap me in the face, shove me down a flight of stairs, and show me just how stupid I was to be optimistic)

I heard shuffling near the opening of the alley, about a hundred feet away from me. I crossed my fingers and prayed to whoever could be listening that it was just a pedestrian walking past. But, of course, it wasn’t. Now, I don’t remember much about myself, but I get the sense that I don’t have the greatest luck. Exhibit A: I’m homeless. Exhibit B: I was about to witness a crime in my own alleyway right after thinking that alleys must not be that bad. Sounds about right.

I sat up just enough that I could see what was going on, and what I did see made my hands clench in anger. At the end of the alley, a man was holding a knife to some poor teenager's throat. With his other hand, the man was aggressively rifling through their pockets, hands lingering too long to be just a typical mugging (not that a mugging should be considered normal). The teen was crying, with short, slightly muffled sobs escaping their lips. I could tell they were trying to be brave and angry, but the situation was terrifying.

I took in the scene in the couple seconds it took me to spring to my feet, making only the slightest of sounds. I spared half a thought to wonder how I learned to move so quickly and quietly, but then I was ghosting towards the slimy bastard. Luckily, the man hadn’t noticed me in the shadows of the alley, otherwise things could have gone much worse. In just a few more seconds, I was directly behind the man.

One of my hands shot forward to grab the wrist of the hand holding the knife. I yanked it backwards, twisting his arm harshly until he had to either drop the knife or let his arm break. Once he released the knife, I maintained my grip on his arm, forcing his body to twist away from the teen and then flipping him over my shoulder in one smooth movement. He landed on the ground with a thump that thoroughly knocked the wind out of him. I reached my foot to the side, kicking the discarded knife into the air and catching it, all without looking away from the man who was desperately trying to get air back into his lungs. His hands clawed against the ground and his eyes were nearly bugging out of his head. I held the knife casually in my hand, twirling it on my palm before catching it again, demonstrating an easy familiarity with the weapon that I was ignoring for now but would freak out about later. I crouched down and glared at the man, using the knife to tilt his chin towards me.

Once I was certain I had his undivided attention, I spoke in a deadly even voice, “If I see you touch anyone else without their consent, ever again, I will cut off all of your fingers one by one and shove them down your throat.” The man stared at me, terrified. Served him right. I glared at him for a few more moments until I was sure I had gotten my message across. I stood up and took a single step away from him.

“Now get out of my alley,” I snarled, and the man scrambled to his feet before running away.

As he scrambled away from me, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of person I was before that I knew how to fight and threaten people like that. Seriously, cut his fingers off? Shove them down his throat? Where did that come from? I was starting to get the uncomfortable sense that maybe who I was before isn’t someone I wanted to be now. Maybe it was for the best that I couldn’t remember.

I pushed those thoughts to the back of my mind to deal with later, and took a couple deep breaths before turning to the trembling teen who was still pressed against the brick wall, eyes locked on the end of the alley where the man had run. I forced my posture and gaze to soften, making sure to take a step back and give them some space.

“Hey,” I said gently, “are you alright?”

They moved their gaze and met my eyes for a moment before quickly looking away.

“Um, yeah, yeah, uh…I’m okay,” they managed to stutter. I watched as they systematically pulled themself together, straightening up and stepping away from the wall. They seemed wary of me still, which I figured must be because of the knife I was still holding. I glanced down at it, then back up at the teen. I flipped my grip around so the handle was facing them.

“Want this?” I asked.

…

I offered to walk the teen to wherever they were going, which they seemed more amenable to once I handed them the knife. Yeah, you got that right, I am a very responsible adult that gives away rusty knives to unknown teens.

“I’m Percy, by the way,” I said as we walked down the streets towards the cafe the teen was heading to. As we passed by dilapidated buildings and even sketchier alleys than the one I woke up in, I searched for any familiar sights but was left with an eerie feeling that I couldn’t quite place. Something about this place felt fundamentally wrong to me, but I didn’t know why. Oh well, a problem for future Percy.

The teen glanced over at me with a small smile, saying “I’m Sam.”

…

Once we got to the cafe, Sam offered to buy me a coffee as thanks, and I hesitantly agreed. I was really hungry now that I thought about it, and I wasn’t about to turn down free food, especially if I was homeless (yes I know coffee doesn’t really count as food but it counts for something, okay?). They held the door open for me, and as I walked in I was hit with the delightful smell of coffee and a wave of warm air. The cafe was small yet cozy, with just a handful of people sitting in the little booths near the windows. Music played softly from the speakers, though I didn’t recognize the song. The menu behind the counter was handwritten in chalk with tasteful doodles around the edges. The barista behind the counter had curly blond hair that sent an unexpected pang of nostalgia through me that I tried to ignore.

I followed Sam to the counter, where they cheerfully greeted the barista and ordered for the both of us. Sam was clearly familiar with the blond worker as they chatted for a little and I purposefully tuned out of their conversation, not wanting to eavesdrop. Something about their casual companionship made me feel empty and cold, like I was missing something important. I closed my eyes and tried to follow the feeling, hoping a memory would come up if I focused hard enough. Just when I started to picture the vague outline of a person, Sam called my name and my eyes snapped open.

“Hey, Percy, let's sit over there,” Sam pointed to an empty booth by the entrance, and I flashed them a smile before trudging over to it. I sank down into the squishy purple seat, reminded of my headache now that the adrenaline had worn off and I had a moment to relax. I discreetly rubbed my temples while Sam went to grab our drinks after their name was called. They came back with two large coffees, two chocolate muffins, and way too many napkins balanced precariously in their hands. They managed to set everything down without dropping anything, to their considerable satisfaction and my own amusement.

“Tada, coffee and a treat!”

I accepted my share of the goods with a grateful smile and promptly inhaled the entire muffin in two bites. There must have been crumbs all over my face, because Sam slid a napkin towards me with a pointed look that made me laugh.

“Thanks, Sam, I appreciate it, you really didn’t have to do this.”

“I disagree, you saved me back there with your fancy ninja moves and concerningly creative threats,” Sam said with an amused smirk.

I opened my mouth but Sam cut me off with a stern look, “Most people in your position would have walked away or even just looked away. No one in Gotham sticks their necks out for others like you did, unless they’re a bird or a bat. I don’t even want to think about what might have happened if you didn’t step in. Plus, now I’ve got this sick ass knife!” Sam pulled the knife out of their pocket and brandished it proudly before quickly putting it away once they realized that was kind of threatening and not ideal cafe behavior. I smiled softly at their antics.

“It was really no trouble, there was no way I was going to let him get away with what he was doing. People like that deserve an ass-kicking or ten, and I’m happy to help.”

I made a mental note to look more in Gotham, which was apparently the place–town, neighborhood, state?–I lived in. Their mention of birds and bats also confused me, but I figured it was probably not that important. Sam and I finished up our drinks and chatted about meaningless little nothings until I figured it was time to head out and leave them alone. Before I left, Sam scribbled a phone number on a napkin for me, making me promise to call them if I needed anything. I assured Sam that they didn’t owe me, and even if they had the coffee made up for it, but Sam just raised their eyebrow at me and gave me a Look. I took the napkin.

…

Now that my hunger had been mostly sated and the coffee was waking me up, I was ready to get a better idea of what Gotham was like. I wandered around, making arbitrary turns as I explored, somehow confident that I would find my way back to my alley if I needed to. The graffiti painted on the nearby buildings was fascinating, with lots of clowns and bats and other things that I didn’t really understand, but looked cool nonetheless. Throughout my wandering, I found myself drawn in a certain direction, walking until the gray sky turned black, and I wondered vaguely if I should be concerned about being in an unfamiliar place at night. I shrugged off my worry, fairly sure I could survive any fights I would come across with my apparent ninja skills that I still didn’t really understand. I got the sense that this wasn’t my first time being in imminent danger (which was a lovely thought that I would reflect more on later) (maybe I should start making a list of “Shit Percy Will Think About Later to Avoid Any Immediate Breakdowns”).

After a while, the amount of buildings started to thin out, and I caught a glimpse of water not too far away. Something clicked in my brain, like when people get an answer right in a game show and the ding ding ding sound goes off. Water was definitely correct. Bingo. Touchdown. Pass Go, collect 200.

I picked up my pace a little, feeling the desperate need to reach the water as soon as possible. I could have sworn I felt it calling out to me, pleading for help, but obviously water can’t talk so I brushed it off as me being sleep deprived and maybe a little crazy. Just as I started running, I heard a gun go off. I stopped in my tracks and quickly melted into the shadows of a nearby alley. My hand instinctively reached into my pocket and pulled out the pen. I looked at my hand in confusion, brows furrowing, before quickly putting the pen back. What was I gonna do with a pen, give the shooter an autograph? Shaking my head at myself, I focused on listening.

I heard sounds of fighting and more guns going off not too far away. Peeking out of the alley, my eyes zeroed in on a warehouse where the commotion must be coming from.

Now this is the part where I know that whoever I was before must have been absolutely nuts. Because it’s one thing to fight one guy with a knife in order to help a teen, and it’s another thing entirely to run towards a warehouse where several people are currently firing guns.

At least I know more about myself now; I’m an idiot with some weird ass instincts. Seriously, who runs towards danger? At least the warehouse was closer to the water than the alley I was in. I could probably jump into the harbor from the roof, not that I was planning to.

…

So. I jumped into the harbor from the roof. In my defense, I really hadn’t been planning to.

By the time I entered the warehouse, it seemed the worst of the fight was over. Some weirdo in a cape was fighting off 6 other guys, but most of their guns had been knocked to the edges of the warehouse or emptied. I considered jumping right into the fight and helping Weird Cape Guy, but he seemed to be holding his own pretty well. I got a little bored and decided to go up the ladder conveniently placed near me to the walkway that went around the main room. I watched from above as he took the goons out until he was the only one left standing. I was just about to slip away when I saw movement from the corner of my eye. There was one last goon and he was on the walkway with me, currently aiming a gun at Weird Cape Guy’s unprotected back.

Before I could even make the conscious decision to, I was running towards goon #7 and placing myself in front of him. I wrestled the gun to the side just as he fired. I felt successful for a moment before realizing that I was just a second too late and the bullet had, in fact, gone through me. But, a win is a win, mission accomplished, at least Weird Cape Guy didn’t have a bullet through him. I threw a vicious left hook that knocked Mr. Goon clean off his feet, out cold before he hit the ground.

I blinked in shock at the display of my own strength before remembering my caped buddy. I turned around to check that he was okay, only to see that he was now also on the walkway and running towards me.

My brain wasn’t necessarily firing on all cylinders after being shot, so when I saw WCG sprinting towards me I turned and ran away. And no, I did not yelp in alarm or make any other embarrassing noise of surprise. I am way too professional for that, probably.

“Wait!” WCG called out, but I was already scrambling up a ladder and onto the warehouse roof.

“Stop! I’m not going to hurt you, I just want to make sure you’re okay!” WCG yelled, but my brain was a little preoccupied freaking out over everything that had happened in the past 12 hours and the truly concerning amount of blood leaving my body to really process his words.

If I had been in my right mind, I would have stopped and probably had a very pleasant chat with WCG, but instead I saw the water and decided the best course of action would be to jump into the harbor, as one does in these situations.

—

Tim stared in horror as the guy who saved his life jumped off of the roof. He was too far away to grab him and there weren’t any buildings near enough for him to use his grappling gun. Tim stopped at the edge of the roof and watched the truly impressive splash made by the guy hitting the water. With a frustrated groan, Tim reached a hand up to his com.

“Gang fight at the docks is taken care of. Civilian with GSW to the abdomen just jumped into the harbor. I’m going in after him.”

“I’ll come help, RR. 10 minutes out,” Steph responded.

“Got it.”

Tim looked pleadingly up at the sky, as if asking “why me?” before jumping into the harbor.

Chapter Text

I plunged into the water with a huge splash that I was kind of proud of. As I sank deeper into the harbor, I realized that I had forgotten to take a breath before submerging and I was quickly running out of air. Naturally, this made me freak out, and I frantically tried to orient myself and get back to the surface. In my mad underwater scramble, I ran smack into a huge metal container and any air I had in my lungs was forced out in a gasp.

Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever drowned before, and technically I don’t know if I’ve ever drowned before, but I’m pretty sure that inhaling water is usually not something people would recommend. But after my initial panic and thinking I was going to die, I realized that I was not, in fact, drowning. I was breathing the filthy water as if it were air. Which, ew, first of all, but also whhaaattttt?

Once I calmed down enough to think somewhat clearly, I noticed a few more things that I was pretty sure were not normal:

1. Obviously, I was breathing underwater.
2. Despite it being nighttime and pitch black underwater, I had no trouble seeing my surroundings. Including the stupid metal container.
3. My clothes weren’t wet.
4. The bullet wound that was bleeding just a minute ago was nearly healed. As I stared at my stomach, I could see a thin stream of water flowing into the wound. I watched as my skin stitched itself back together again until all that was left was a fresh scar. What. The. Hell.

With these lovely and alarming revelations, I would have preferred a nice few business days just to process, but I was interrupted by the sound of a splash above me. Looking up, I saw that Wet Cape Guy had followed me into the harbor, like an idiot. Or a hero, but I was leaning more towards idiot at the moment. I mean, who jumps off a building into a harbor wearing a cape? An idiot, that’s who.

I carefully swam around him (oh yeah, I could also swim really easily and really fast too, as if my life wasn’t weird enough already). Making sure that he didn’t see me, I clambered out of the water and onto the dock. I hesitated for a second, feeling bad for letting WCG think that I had drowned, but I really didn’t want to talk to a stranger about the weird water things that happened, specifically the now healed bullet wound. Maybe I could leave a note? Oh, the pen! I pulled it out of my pocket and took the cap off, quickly looking around for something to write on. I nearly fell over when the pen suddenly became much heavier and much bigger and distinctly not a pen. With a not insignificant amount of exasperation, I looked over to see that my pen was cosplaying as a sword. Or maybe my sword had been cosplaying as a pen? Whatever, the point is (ha) I was so over weird shit happening to me. I turned around and chucked the sword into the harbor in frustration, then immediately felt bad because what if I had hit WCG?

After a moment's deliberation, I decided he was probably fine, and if he died in the harbor it would be because of his cape and not my pen/sword. Determined to pass out and forget everything that happened in the past day, I hurried off back through the streets towards my alley. I would deal with this in the morning.

—

Tim was thoroughly concerned. He could not find the civilian. Even his thermal scanner couldn’t locate the guy, it was like he had disappeared the second he entered the water.

Tim broke through the surface to catch his breath, shivering in the frigid, disgusting, definitely toxic water. God, he hated the harbor. He was going to have to take at least three showers to get the smell out of his hair.

“Hey Red! Did you find him yet?” Spoiler called out, running up to the edge of the docks. Which meant that he had already been looking for 10 minutes with no luck. Shit.

“Does it look like I found him?” Tim deadpanned, blowing a strand of wet hair out of his face. Spoiler rolled her eyes.

“Do you want me to jump in and help?”

Tim considered it for a second. As much as he kind of wanted someone to join him in his suffering (misery really does love company), there was no point. It was too dark to see much, and if the scanner couldn’t find the guy then Spoiler probably couldn’t either.

He sighed, guilt filling him to the brim, “Nah, I don’t think we’re going to find him. And even if we did, there’s no guarantee he would even be alive at this point. He could have bled out by now.” The poor guy was probably going to die for his act of bravery. He had saved Tim’s life, but Tim was unable to return the favor. The memory of the civilian jumping off the roof was going to haunt what little sleep he was able to get for a long time. Why couldn’t Tim have been faster? He should have approached more calmly to not scare the guy off, or he should have been more aware so the guy wouldn’t have had to take a bullet for him in the first place. Tim should’ve known better than to let his guard down without being certain that all threats were neutralized. Tim should’ve been better. But now there was more blood on his hands.

Tim shook these thoughts out of his head and swam back to the docks, letting Spoiler drag him out of the water.

“Maybe he got out and walked away while you were underwater?” Spoiler offered, clearly trying to make him feel better. As much as he appreciated the attempt, he didn’t think it was likely. But, better safe than sorry.

Tim brought a finger to his com, “Hey O, can you check cameras near my location for a guy coming out of the harbor in the last 10 minutes?”

“Can do,” Oracle responded. There was silence for a minute, then “A guy climbed onto the docks near you about 9 minutes ago,” Tim let out a quick sigh of relief as Oracle continued, “probably in his late teens or early twenties, dark hair, around 6 foot, wearing an orange t-shirt with a hole in the abdomen, and…what the..” Oracle trailed off, her voice betraying confusion and disbelief.

“What is it?” Tim asked, apprehensively.

“He…he pulled a pen out of his pocket and the pen turned into a sword? And then he threw it in the harbor,” Oracle was trying to remain professional, but she was clearly a little at a loss for what had happened.

Tim started pacing back and forth, muttering to himself, “Maybe he’s some kind of meta? Why would he have a magical weapon? That doesn’t make any sense, if he had a weapon then why did he let himself get shot, unless he doesn’t know how to use it, but why would he throw it in the harbor? Maybe–”

“Whoa, slow your roll, Red, we’ll figure this out. We should probably head back to the cave now anyway, you can stalk this guy to your heart's content tomorrow, okay? But you really, really need a shower, like now,” Spoiler grabbed Tim’s shoulders to stop his pacing. That’s when Tim remembered why he was so concerned about the guy in the first place.

“Oh shit, hey O? Did it look like the guy was injured?”

“There was a hole in his shirt and what could have been a blood stain around it, but he wasn’t moving in a way that would indicate an injury. Either he’s fine now or he’s really good at hiding pain.”

“Both are pretty concerning options,” Spoiler pointed out.

Tim bit his lip and came to a decision.

“O, can you figure out what direction he went in?”

“Looks like he’s heading towards the Bowery.”

“Thanks, O.”

—

I woke up to someone trying to mug me.

For those of you who have never woken up to a mugging the day after you woke up in an alley with no memories and then got shot trying to save some guy in a cape, let me tell you that it is extremely annoying. Seriously, what did the universe have against me? Must’ve been fate or some shit like that.

My eyes snapped open and I lashed out with my foot before I was even fully awake. My foot connected with the mugger’s nose, which gave a sickening crack and immediately started bleeding. While the mugger stumbled back a few steps, I gracefully sprang into a crouch, hand straying to my pocket again where, surprise surprise, my pen was back.

As cool and weird as a pen-sword that returned to my pocket was, I didn’t really think I needed it in this situation. Instead I straightened up to my full height and let myself tower over the bleeding mugger.

I felt a snarl come over my face and narrowed my eyes at them. “Get out,” I said simply, too tired to think up anything more threatening, but it did the trick and the mugger scampered out of my alley with frantically muttered apologies. I felt kind of bad for breaking their nose, since they seemed so apologetic, but it was too late for me to do anything about it. I mentally shrugged and took stock of my situation. It looked like the sun had recently risen, though it was hard to tell since the sky was seemingly perpetually gray. That meant it was likely around Way-To-Early-o’clock in the morning, and I allowed myself a moment to mourn my lack of sleep.

Welp, might as well start my day.

…

After wandering the area near my alley for a while, I found a $5 bill laying on the ground. It was suspiciously wet and missing a corner, but that was a problem for whatever poor cashier I gave it to, not me. Finally, it seemed my luck was turning around.

With that magnificent $5, I was able to buy myself a small coffee and a croissant from the cafe Sam took me to the day before. Not the most nutritious meal, but I would take what I could get. I shoved a handful of napkins into my pocket and left the cafe.

As fond as I was of my alley, I didn’t particularly want to get mugged while eating my breakfast, so I climbed the nearest fire escape ladder I could find that didn’t look like it would crumble with a gust of wind. Sitting on the roof was nice. I let my legs dangle over the ledge as I munched on my croissant. I couldn’t remember if I had been scared of heights before, but I found that I was more wary of the sky above me than the drop below, for whatever reason.

After I finished eating, I brushed the crumbs off my hands and onto my pants and reluctantly pulled my pen out of my pocket. I examined it carefully, looking for what, I wasn’t sure, but it looked like a very ordinary pen to me. Bracing myself, I pulled off the cap, half convinced that nothing would happen and the day before had been a crazy hallucination. But, nope, the pen turned into a sword.

My hand wrapped perfectly around the hilt, the blade feeling like an extension of my arm. I was clearly very familiar and comfortable with the sword. The blade itself was bronze and leaf shaped, with the word Anaklusmos engraved on it. Riptide. Huh, I guess even sword-pens have names.

I blinked and stared at my sword in shock as I realized that I had just read a different language and understood it. As weird as that was, it was far from the strangest thing to happen to me, so I shrugged it off and cautiously touched the cap to the tip of the sword, hoping it would go back to pen form. I breathed a sigh of relief when it did.

I stared out at the city in front of me, thoughts racing through my head nearly too fast for me to keep up. I needed to make some sort of plan, both to maybe get my memories back and be able to survive until I did. I looked down at the pen in my hand and squinted at it for a moment. I pulled the cap off and it turned into a sword again. If touching the cap to the tip of the sword turned it into a pen with the cap on the writing bit, then maybe touching the cap to the hilt of the sword would turn it back into a pen with the cap on the back of the pen. It was worth a shot.

And it worked! I took out some of the napkins I got from the cafe and started jotting down some notes.

Shelter: my alley? steal a sleeping bag? look into homeless shelters?
Water: drink the harbor water- might be toxic, but didn’t kill me last night?
Money: steal or get a job

Now that I had a fool-proof plan, I was ready to start my new life in Gotham.

—

Tim was so over this. He and Spoiler had tried to follow the harbor guy to the Bowery, but he was either highly skilled in stealth or just had really good luck, because the security cameras that he had to have walked past couldn’t seem to pick up his presence very well. Certainly facial recognition was a bust with the guy, it was like he didn’t exist or something. But even just the normal security footage seemed to glitch or short-out when he would have walked by.

Tim exhaustedly dragged himself into bed after taking 3 showers, regretting just about everything in his life. He would look more for the guy tomorrow.

—

Since shelter and water were mostly taken care of for now, my top priority was to try and find a job or learn how to pickpocket. I thought carefully about my strengths and what jobs I could be good at. Maybe something to do with swimming? Is surfing a job?

As I walked, I noticed that I had entered what appeared to be a nicer neighborhood. At least, I hadn’t seen a drug deal happening in an alley in a couple minutes. The streets slowly got more populated as I continued on, and that’s when I saw someone standing on a street corner playing guitar. I watched as people passed by, leaving a few coins in their open guitar case. Maybe I could do that? How hard could it be to make music? I couldn’t remember if I knew how to sing, but it couldn’t hurt to try, right?

After the person finished their song, I walked up to them.

“Hey! Your guitar playing is awesome! Is there any chance you’d let me sing with you? I’m a little short on money right now…” I trailed off awkwardly, giving my best attempt at a friendly smile.

The guitar player looked me up and down skeptically, “You sing?”

“Oh yeah, huge singer!” I gave a hopefully very confident and reassuring grin.

They raised an eyebrow, but said “Alright, I guess. We’ll split 70:30 for the first song, and if you suck, you move on.”

I sighed in relief, “Deal. I’m Percy.”

“I don’t really care. What song?”

I cleared my throat nervously, “Do you know ‘Way down We Go’?”

They nodded and strummed a few chords experimentally. I quickly brushed croissant crumbs off of my pants and cleared my throat again, preparing myself mentally as best I could. I really hoped I could sing, because otherwise this would be very awkward.

The guitarist gave me a pointed look and started the song.

I closed my eyes and began singing.

Oh, Father, tell me, do we get what we deserve?
Oh, we get what we deserve

And way down we go

I kept my eyes closed, letting the lyrics consume me. Do we get what we deserve? Is there some higher power working to make sure that the wicked get punished? Is that why I had amnesia, because I had done something bad? Did I deserve this?

I let my confusion and hurt bleed through into my voice.

Oh, 'cause they will run you down, down 'till the dark
Yes, and they will run you down, down 'till you fall
And they will run you down, down to your core
Yeah, 'till you can't crawl no more

And way down we go

I distantly heard people standing and shuffling around us, but my mind was caught up in the sounds of the guitar and my own voice working in harmony.

Way down we go

As the last chord rang out in the silence, I slowly opened my eyes. As I looked around, I saw that we had amassed a huge crowd. Dozens of people had stopped to listen, all staring at me with a strange, almost entranced look in their eyes. They swayed gently side to side, some clutching at their chests, some with tears rolling gently down their cheeks, which I thought was a little weird. The song is emotional, but it’s really not that sad. Maybe they were just having a bad day.

Almost all at once, as if a spell had broken, the crowd began moving again, many of them coming forward to drop money in the open guitar case. A lot of them stared at me in a weird, slightly creepy way that I was trying really hard to ignore. A few lingered around like they were hoping for an encore.

After the guitarist counted and split the money, I had a sizable stack of cash in my hands.

“I’m honestly a little shocked, you’ve got yourself a good voice, kid,” the guitarist said, giving me a searching look, “You ever wanna sing again, come find me.”

I smiled softly, soaking in the praise, “I will, thanks again!” I walked back towards my alley, my hard earned money getting shoved deep into my pockets. And just like that, I had myself a source of income.