wegotarunner | Day One, Greenie.

[Open Spam]

[Thomas arrives on the deck of the ship with a look of weariness not only on his features, but one that's settled into his shoulders. Chuck's carving is still clutched tightly in his hand. There's still blood on his clothes. On his hands. His face is streaked with dirt and sweat and blood from a cut above his eye and another on his cheek.

So this is the Barge.

He looks up at the sky with wide eyes, momentarily distracted by the sight and forgetting the events of the last few hours. But only momentarily. He blinks himself out of his dazed stupor and rubs a hand over his face. It takes him a moment to get his bearings. The first thing he needs to do is find his room, and take a long, hot shower. Change his clothes. Get something to eat. It's been hours since he last ate anything and his stomach isn't happy about it.

And then he's going to explore the Barge, find out where everything is. Figure out what to do from there. He's sure there's a lot to learn about this place, about the people he's now sharing space with. He's not completely thrilled about having to meet a whole slew of new people. People who won't know him, who will probably treat him like an outsider. Like he's not to be trusted.

Truthfully, he's still not sure should be. He remembers Newt's words. That who he used to be doesn't matter, it's who he is now that counts. And he can't save them if he focuses on things he can't do anything about. He has to stay focused.

For Newt. For Minho. For Teresa. For Alby. Ben. Even for Gally.

But most of all, for Chuck.]

[Video]

[Thomas appears on screen looking better than he had only an hour ago for those who ran into him on the way from the deck to his room. He's cleaned up, all the blood and sweat and dirt gone from his skin. The cut above his eye and the one on his cheek are still there but they look a little less angry now. He also looks a little hesitant, like he's not sure about this.]

Someone said I should introduce myself.

I'm Thomas.

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...I'm sorry.

[A life forgotten is a life lost. He can't help but offer his sympathy.]

How long is 'not long'?

[He can remember bits and pieces of life before the Glade, but they're so small and so scattered that putting them all together to come up with any kind of clear image of life before is difficult at best.]

A week. Maybe not a full one. Just a few days.

Do you know how you lost your memory? Were you injured, or...?

[It's hard to imagine how the Admiral would judge someone a Warden, or an Inmate, or anything else on the basis of a few days alone. How anyone would even know who they themselves were. Merlin knows there's a few weeks in his life that he'd rather not be taken in isolation.]

[He takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly.]

There was a procedure. We called it the Swipe. It pretty much gets rid of all your memories.

[His eyebrows lift in surprise, and frankly a little horror.]

Someone did this to you? Why?

We were trying to figure out how to save people from a disease. I don't really understand all of it, but...I agreed. I thought it was going to help.

[He's pretty sure it hasn't.]

[He's not going to address that any further. He doubts Thomas has any answers to his questions, and he probably wouldn't understand them if he did.]

Is there any way your memories can be returned to you?

I honestly don't know. There was this thing -- back in the Glade. They called it 'getting stung.' It gave you back some of your memories. Not all of them. But a few.

[He looks down.]

I used it to try and remember.

[And the stuff that he did remember hadn't been good.]

But it wasn't exactly clear. I mean, I remembered some things, but not a lot.

[He doesn't even know his last name.]

[Merlin frowns thoughtfully.]

There are people here who can help you, I'm sure of it. Some here have abilities that most people don't.

[He watches him for a reaction. Some people seem more adjusted to this idea than others.]

[He looks up at that, eyebrows furrowing.]

What do you mean?

[It's a difficult thing to explain to someone when they don't even remember what their own society looks like, never mind what might lie beyond it.]

Have you ever heard of magic?

Yeah. In stories.

[It's weird how he can remember the stories, but not who read them to him. He knows things, but he doesn't know where he learned them. Or when. Or who taught him.]

[Merlin nods his understanding; this isn't his first time hearing that. He reaches out, gently putting his fingertips to the cut above Thomas' eye.]

Ic haele.

[His eyes glow gold, for just a moment, and he watches the wound close and fade into nothing more than a smudge of blood on unbroken skin.]

[Thomas isn't sure what to expect, but Merlin giving him tangible evidence of magic? Definitely wasn't it. His eyes widen in surprise and he quickly lifts a hand to his forehead. He knows that the cut that was there is now gone, because it had been hurting before and now it isn't. Still. When he feels the smooth skin in its place, it startles him.]

Holy shit.

[Merlin smiles gently.]

That's magic.

...I don't think that I could help with your memories, but not everyone's abilities are like mine.

[His eyes are still wide and probably won't narrow anytime soon.]

What other kinds of stuff like magic is real? [He knows about telepathy, but he still doesn't understand how it works or why it only works with Teresa.]

[He considers this for a moment. He's been told some things, and he's noticed some things, but his default position is to protect others' privacy. It doesn't feel like it's his place to disclose specifics.]

I think if you want to know you ought to ask.

[It also seems like no great crime to give him an excuse to talk to people. He knows he needed some.]

[It's not the answer Thomas wants, but he accepts it. He doubts he'll be asking those kinds of questions anytime soon, but Lydia had mentioned that there were other people on the Barge who had abilities that might be able to help him, even though she too had failed to elaborate.]

Yeah. Thanks. I should probably...figure out where my cabin is.

[Merlin would offer to help but he has no idea what form that help would take. Someone who's been here longer and knows the lie of the land better might be more helpful.]

Alright. You can keep the clothes, if you want.

[He smiles faintly, nodding. Grateful for Merlin's patience and hospitality.]

Thank you.

[He hopes one day he can return the favor.]

Day One, Greenie.

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