Chapter Text
The first thing they see when they open their eyes is a face.
It’s not a bad face, by any means. Pretty handsome, actually, with soulful eyes and a crease to the lips. No, what startles them is the fact that this face, who belongs to a complete stranger, is hovering just a few inches from their own.
While they’re still frozen in shock, the man’s mouth cracks in a wide beam. “Howdy!” he declares, and his voice is like a million knives stabbing them from the inside of their skull, loud and sharp and far too much.
He’s saying something else, but it doesn’t register through the roaring in their ears. With no small amount of difficulty, they reach up with one hand and bring it down on the man’s face, flesh connecting with his skin in a powerful slap that sends his head snapping away.
A shriek rips out of his throat, doing nothing to ease the pressure that has been building in their head. They lashed out with a leg, kicking him square in the gut and sending him sprawling on the floor.
He groaned, pressing a hand to his head and shakily sitting up. “Wha-”
“Motherfucker!” They spit, heart hammering wildly in their chest. “You piece of shit–holy shit -!”
They glance around wildly, trying to gain some semblance of control over the situation. They’re in what looks like a hotel room. It’s nothing fancy, a plain bed, which they’re lying on, a desk, a bookshelf, and a couple bags that have been left lying around.
The man lifted his hands in a calming gesture. “Woah, now! I’m not-”
He doesn’t get the chance to finish his sentence. They reach out with a hand, blindly grabbing the first thing their fingers close around–a book–and hurling it in his direction. The man yelped, dodging to one side as the book flies past his ear and lands on the floor with a smack.
It’s because he gawks at them in a mixture of shock and indignation for so long that they’re able to nail him with the second book in his chest. He falls back with a rush of air leaving his lungs, and when he finally sits up, he’s nearly met with a third to the face.
Getting his wits about him, the man grabs the book before it can connect, holding it up as a shield of sorts. “Wait! Just listen, please!”
“Why should I?” they spit. “I can’t–shit–I can’t remember anything !” They brandish another book furiously. “Was it you ? Did you do this to me?”
“No!” He breaks off, brow creased in intense thought. “Or, well, it’s possible…”
“What’s my name?” They drop the book to scramble off the bed, seizing the man by his collar and shaking him violently. “ What the fuck is my name ? Who am I?”
He just stares up at her, eyes wide with surprise as he makes a meager attempt to wiggle free. “I’m not sure,” he says eventually. “But I’m not going anywhere.”
The man slips through their fingers as they stagger backwards, falling to the ground and clutching their head in their hands. They don’t know their name. They don’t know where they are. They don’t know what’s going on. Could things get any worse?
He’s silent for several seconds, and when he finally speaks, his voice is back to a cheery hum. “It's wonderful to meet you!” he says. “My name is Joe Hills, and you have wonderful skin.”
Oh, yeah. Things got worse.
“Excuse me?” they grit out, peeking through their fingers to glare at the man.
He just nods enthusiastically without any hint of shame. “Yeah! Very lovely.”
They glance down at their body and almost throw up. Huge, ragged chunks of flesh are missing and give them a perfect view of the pulsating organs and blood vessels inside. They spot the pale gleam of bones through the crimson flesh. Their elbows and knees jut out, gnarled joints protruding and twisting like the roots of an ancient tree. Their skin is an odd mix of green and gray, the colors clashing in a patchwork of hues that is kept together by thin stitches. They clench their fingers into a fist, skin pulling taut over muscle and flesh. “Start at the beginning,” they growled. “Where am I from?”
Joe’s eyes rounded with sadness. “I found you in a forest. It was…it was bad. You looked like you were going to die. You probably would have, if I had shown up any later.”
They lean back, head thumping against the mattress. “So you…healed me?”
“In a sense.” Joe’s eyes pierce into them. “I shared a bit of my life with you.”
They gape at him. Even with their limited knowledge of the world, they can tell that’s a big deal. “Why would you do that?” they croak out eventually.
Joe shrugged. “You interested me. Nobody’s interested me in a long time. And besides, it wasn’t much. Just enough to get you through a couple centuries or so. I can always give you more if you want, though,” he offers.
Their head spins. “How long have you been around?”
“A few million years, if I had to guess.”
They don’t know much, but even they know that that’s far too long. Something on their face must reveal their utter confusion and shock, because Joe laughs, the noise high-pitched and breathy. “I know, right?”
“Why are you still here?” they demand.
Joe shrugged again. “I don’t get sick. I don’t get hungry. I can’t get hurt, and believe me, I’ve tried.”
They shudder briefly at the implications. “No, I mean here . In this room. Why are you wasting your time with me?” they ask, voice quivering in a way that they hate.
“Like I said, you interest me. I want to see what comes of you.” Joe’s head tilts to the side, eyes going glassy as he gets lost in thought. “Will you be a fighter, a conqueror of kingdoms? Will you be a ruler, commanding others with an iron fist? Will you be a peaceful loner, aiding those in need? Or will you be something entirely new?”
They think for a long time. This is a clean slate. A chance to start over, to carve their own path in history.
A name flashes into their mind. They can’t explain it, nor the intense feeling of attachment that comes with it, but regardless, it sets some small ember in their stomach alive.
They know what they're going to be.
Cleo.