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Chapter Text

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FARMER
***

The sun was slowly setting over Stardew Valley, making the late spring clouds drip with vibrant colors of red and gold against a deep indigo backdrop. Inevitably, the firmament would become studded with pinpoints of cold light. However, for the moment, the palette of color was striking. Serene and peaceful, it would hold anyone's attention. So beautiful was it.

That is, it would hold the attention of anyone else. But not mine.

My eyes couldn't pause for one second on the glorious celestial spectacle, for all they could focus on were the withering remains of my failed garden.

My grandfather's pride and joy, Solace Farm, had passed to me upon his death.

It was my inheritance, my duty. His legacy turned my destiny...

'He should have trusted someone else with it,' I thought bitterly, not for the first time.

                                           ~See? Nothing good comes from the things you touch~

                               ~You failed~

“I'm sorry, Grandpa,” I hear myself whisper before I can stop the flood of self-pity gathering on my lashes. As if in answer, the last leaf off my one remaining parsnip plant wilted over to die on the ground with the rest of them. In my mind, I imagined that it didn't even sigh as it gave up on life. It was ready to move on from this world of high hopes, crushed dreams, and vast quantities of ineptitude.

                                    ~You didn't try hard enough...~

                                                     ~Failure~

A lump filled my throat despite how sick I was of crying; sick of listening to the echoes of my own doubts that only served to remind me that I was not cut out for this life. Furiously I wiped the tears away with the back of my hand, blistered from the day spent cutting wood and clearing more space for next season's crops. I shook my head to clear it.

I couldn't change how last season went, but I could at least try for a better one in the future...

*SNAP-HISS* sounded the can of Joja Cola as I opened it, trying not to think about how I had fished it out of the small pond on the property just a few days ago. Who threw full cans of cola into a pond for Yoba's sake?! I'd blame Shane, but, to be honest, I never saw him drink anything besides beer. It could have been Sam or Abigail or even Sebastian (if the other two had managed to drag him out of his basement) during one of their nights of partying. In fact, I recalled that Abigail had admitted to me they used to hang out on this property before I showed up. Leave it to me to be the party pooper.

I took a giant swig of the foul, overly sugary liquid (if only to try to drown my doubts with diabetes). It was worth a shot, right? Nothing else had worked out so far...

“PHTHTH!!” I spit the stuff out half a heartbeat later without even managing to swallow. “YUCK!”

Wiping my tongue on the sleeve of my dirty work shirt, I dumped the can out over the edge of the porch. The liquid swirled and fizzled in the grass, upsetting a nearby colony of ants. “Oh, no! I'm sorry!” I apologized as I hastily redirected the stream away from the entrance to their home. “I can't do anything right...”

Can't grow parsnips.

Inadvertently drown ants in toxic sludge...

Why am I even here...

                                 ~Worthless~

“Meow?” mewled a dark gray calico cat as she sauntered over to me for her nightly demand of ear scritches.

Well, perhaps not completely worthless at some things. I apparently give great ear scritches.

“Hey, Trixy,” I greeted and gave in to her request, giving her amble scratches along her cheeks and chin. The act earned me a loud rumble of purrs and happy merps. “At least you like me,” I grumbled, ignoring the glaring fruits of my failure glaring around me. I couldn't grow a simple crop, and I couldn't make friends, having unwittingly put a damper on the locals' hangout. Not to mention that I've been so busy that I haven't even introduced myself to half the town's population...

If I was to be honest with myself, it's as though I started out here on the wrong foot and had face-planted every day since. And all of it was my fault...

As if to mock me further, another wooden shingle fell off the house behind me with a clatter. Oh, yeah, I also knew nothing about maintenance and building upkeep. Shit, keeping my studio apartment livable back in the city was hard enough. Now, I had a whole farm to maintain.

                                      ~Useless~

Trixy turned over onto her back, her belly on full display, her large green eyes shimmering expectantly at me. Daring me. Taunting me.

“HA! You can't fool me.” I managed a laugh as she smooshed her forehead into the ground below her, looking for all the world as innocent as a lamb as she wormed along the ground. Sure, she was harmless if a lamb had razor-sharp claws, piercing canine teeth, and a thirst for blood. I knew better than to tempt fate and rub that belly!

“Yes, you're gorgeous, as always,” I said instead. Praise went far when dealing with her Highness . “But I really prefer not to have to visit Dr. Harvey anymore this season, thank you very much. Another bill for stitches is the last thing I need right now. Now, go catch me some mice near the old greenhouse, you free-loader!” I shooed the feline away with a lazy wave of my hand.

Deciding she had enough affection for one night (or, more likely understanding that she wasn't going to get a taste of my blood), Trixy darted off to disappear through the grass for her usual evening hunt.

“Bloodthirsty savage!” I called as her tail disappeared around the remains of what used to be my Grandfather's greenhouse. Someday, I hoped to afford to fix it up and fill it with all kinds of plants, just as he had done.

Someday.

                                     ~You will fail~

Valiantly ignoring the continuing whispers of doubt, I was still smiling when my eyes finally drifted back to my pitiful attempt at gardening. My smile vanished. Forget rebuilding the greenhouse. Forget learning basic upkeep of the house and surrounding area. I had to master the basics first!

“Here's to next season!” I toasted the desiccated plant husks with my empty Joja can.

                                    ~You accomplished nothing all season~

                        ~Go home~

“But I have nowhere else to go...” I answered the voice of doubt.

With a resigned sigh, I leaned back and smacked my head against the rickety porch post in frustration as I finally allowed myself to take in the array of colors painting across the sky. The last rays of the sun flared out, leaving the small band of clouds red along their bellies like one of Trixy's poor victims.

Perhaps the mocking voice was right: I probably will fail next season just as bad as I had this one. What was worse was that I couldn't afford another season like what I just endured. But the only option I had left was to keep going and try my best.

                                                 ~Your best will never be good enough...~

'Argh! I'm in a mood tonight,' I think to myself and pinch the bridge of my nose with my fingers in a futile attempt to silence my doubts.

“Am I hormonal? I must be hormonal...” I mutter to no one but the darkening sky.

                                          ~No, you're just pathetic and lonely~

                                                                                      ~No one will ever love you again~

                                                                                   ~Broken~

Great, now the 'no one' was responding to me! Add crazy to the ever-growing list of mental problems.

“Tomorrow will be better,” I tell myself, for tomorrow is the start of summer. Running my hand over the frayed braid of fading blue hair falling over my shoulder, I considered again my plan of attack for the new season.

First thing in the morning, I planned to buy new seeds and spend the day planting. With what little I had left in my savings, I could hopefully afford some tomatoes, radishes (maybe some wheat), and, if my funds and luck held, one packet of melon seeds. However, my luck hinged on whether I could haggle Pierre down on his prices. But that man rarely budged on anything.

Greedy old coot.

Blueberries would be nice to grow. I consider this as I daydream of pies and muffins like the ones Grandpa used to make. But I seriously doubted I'd have enough left over for those even if I did somehow manage to budge the owner of Pelican Town's only General Store to lower his prices. And there was no way I was stepping foot in Jojo Mart to compare said prices! I might be desperate, but I still had my pride.

But... blueberries !

Next summer, perhaps.

If I made it that far...

                                ~Worthless~

Again, the tears threatened, bursting my warm bubble of freshly baked pies and mouth-watering treats. The reality loomed that I first had to afford such things. Then, I had to grow them. And if what transpired this last season was any indication, it was going to be nothing short of hard, backbreaking labor and no small amount of prayers to keep anything alive through to harvest.

I needed help. That was the truth of it. I was just a city girl fumbling blindly through nature like a goblin in an antique store full of precious glassware. I was making mistakes and breaking things. It would be laughably entertaining if it wasn't so pathetic.

But there was no one to turn to without admitting defeat.

I could do this.

I had to!

                                     ~It's pointless~

I take a shuddering breath to try to master my wayward thoughts.

When did I become so insecure of my abilities? When had I become so cynical that I no longer resembled the bright, chipper woman who had graduated top pianist of her class? Where did my confidence go? Where were my dreams?

Oh, that's right, he happened. He made me like this...

All I had to do was look at my wrists to see the faint reminders of the life I left behind, of the life I tried to get out of...by any means possible.

Had Grandfather known how miserable I'd been? Did he know that my marriage was a complete and utter failure?

No. Of course not.

No one knew. Not my mother. Not my family. Not what few friends I once had.

No one.

It was only myself and Donovan. Curse the day I ever laid eyes on that slimy bastard!

As the inky blackness above my head began to dot with stars, I recalled one of my lowest points...

Just this past winter, I had been sitting there at my desk working under the ironclad thumb of Joja Corp as one of the faceless drones in a cramped cubicle. I never had a chance to use my music degree. Donovan wouldn't let me. He said art and music were worthless - that they were mere hobbies. Hobbies, fun, and joy had no place in his white-collar world.

And if I wanted any independence of my own - any autonomy outside of being his 'trophy wife' - then I'd work the job he gave me and be thankful for it. Asshole.

So, instead of following my passion, I worked in sales and customer service at the local branch in Zuzu City that he managed. I worked long hours answering phones and dealing with unhappy clients and employees laboring on the Jojo Mart floors. For a short time, it was nice to get away from the horrors of home; nice to have something to keep me occupied. But then I blinked and realized that nearly five years had passed.

I couldn't take any more.

I tried my own way out, but like everything else in my life, I failed miserably in the attempt.

After getting out of the hospital was when I finally opened my barely used top drawer on my desk and found Grandfather's sealed letter. I had put it there on my first day of work, hopeful that Donovan would never find it. It was all I had left of Grandpa - the last tether to my childhood - so it was precious to me.

The last time I had seen my Grandfather was before my marriage; before my life became a nightmare. I didn't want to open it because opening it would trap me in this life. It would be like admitting the past was gone, that the woman Grandpa had given this piece of paper to was as dead as he was. This letter was the last thing he had given me. Or so I had thought.

I'll never forget the night Grandfather handed it to me and the words he shared while on his deathbed:

“ ....and for my very special granddaughter,” he had wheezed, his body reaching the end of his strength. “I want you to have this sealed envelope. No, No, don't open it yet... have patience. Now, listen close...” He reached his feeble, shaking hand out to me and I took it without hesitation. Holding the cold appendage in mine, I couldn't stop the tears that started to fall. He simply smiled his usual, warm smile. Despite his pain, his eyes still held that twinkle in them that I loved so much. 

“ There will come a day when you feel crushed by the burden of modern life...” he whispered to me, “and your bright spirit will fade before a growing emptiness. When that happens, my girl, you'll be ready for this gift. Now, let Grandpa rest...”

“I'm sorry, Grandpa,” I whispered now in the present, my eyes once more glittering with tears. “I'm trying really hard here... but it's not going so good.” I wiped a hand across my face to clear away the traitorous tears. Yes, I was definitely hormonal. Tears would not erase what had happened up to this point. Tears never fixed anything that had gone wrong in my life.

And, shamefully, it had taken five years before I had the courage to open his letter.

Five years of being crushed by the 'burden of modern life'. Five years of him and five years not using my talents and living my dream. Stagnant and empty inside, I finally broke the seal to see what this gift was that he offered to my faded spirit, finally freeing me.

Grandfather had left me Solace Farm. It was his pride and joy, his life's work.

But, like so many other things, I was failing at keeping his dream alive.

And I no longer had dreams of my own.

I hadn't found freedom, I only found-

                                                         ~Failure~

That did it. That last self-deprecating thought released the dam holding back my emotions. Like the wilting leaves of my poor parsnip plants, I let my tears fall without a sound. After a while, my eyes were drawn back to the sky. There, high above my head, glittered a bright, golden star. Perhaps it was the blur of my tears. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but it seemed like the star was moving - like it was fleeing this pathetic excuse that had become my existence.

…No... It was a shooting star! I realized a moment later with a start. It brought back memories of Grandpa and me laying on this very lawn, watching shooting stars just like this when I was a child. We'd spend hours here, sprawled out on the grass and staring up at the endless sky above us, the sound of his farm echoing all around as fireflies danced in the air.

Joyous and full of life, his farm had once been my refuge.

Back then, the sky didn't look so cold to me, so empty and foreboding. Everything looked brighter with Grandpa beside me. He would encourage me to make wishes on all the pretty shooting stars we saw. Life was good then. It was magical in a way that only the eyes of youth saw sitting beside someone who meant the world to them.

Oh, how I wanted so very badly to be that young girl once more! When I wasn't so sad and damaged and hopeless. When I had the energy leftover to nurture and inspire others around me - plant, animal, human, or otherwise.

When I still had hopes and dreams to call my very own...

“Please,” I whispered, my heart twisting within me as if to wring out the last ounce of hope inside it. “Please, help me, Grandpa! I need your guidance. I can't do this alone... I don't want to be alone anymore...”

I buried my face in my hands, not caring how the dirt on my palms smudged my skin. I needed a good, long cry, a glass of wine, and a night of sleep. Wiping the back of my hand across my nose, I blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear my blurry vision.

Maybe it was my tears, but I swore that golden star was still there! And it was growing!

I blinked again. Not only was it getting bigger, but it was illogically still moving. It should have shot across the heavens by now!

Was it a plane? A satellite? A UFO?! Truly, it was like no shooting star I had ever seen before!

Suddenly, as if knowing I was watching it, the ball of light flared brighter. I watched, awestruck, as it slammed against the first layer of atmosphere and rocketed through the ozone, sparking and flaring with brilliant, multicolored light. Colors swirled around it, of all and of none, weaving and pulling as if jealously trying to stop its descent.

Then, with a flare that was so bright I had to fight against squeezing my eyes shut, I watched the ball of golden flame break free of the gravitational force trying to keep it aloft and resume its unstoppable plummet. Freed.

As it fell, a small chunk was expelled from the main mass and headed south, pulsing blood-red in the night before I lost sight of it over the Cidersap Forest.

I waited and held my breath, half expecting the rest of the asteroid to suddenly break apart. They did that, right? Usually, gravity and the atmosphere reduced all but the largest chunks of space debris to dust.

But no, of course , I wouldn't be so lucky. The main body of the asteroid was still heading straight for me.

Straight at Solace Farm.

Shit. Shit. SHIT !

***

Chapter Text

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Still the last day of Spring, Year 1, Twilight

***
FARMER
***

“SHIT!” The curse flew from my mouth as fast as my body could spring from the porch. On instinct, I flattened myself to the ground. Assuming the fetal position, I tucked my head to my chest, covering all vitally important brain-related areas with my arms.

Within moments, the area around me began to brighten. I could feel heat prickle on the back of my arms pathetically covering my neck and head. There was a loud whooshing sound, and through my cracked eyelids, I could see my garden, my yard, my house - the whole area! - was bright as day.

One thought crossed my mind at that moment: 'I guess the incoming apocalypse means that I won't have to worry about buying seeds tomorrow...'

Just as that thought ended (one I was certain would be my last!) the deafening roar and blinding light sailed over me and kept going. Risking a peek through my fleshy shelter, I managed to catch a glimpse of the fireball as it rocketed over the ruins of Grandpa's greenhouse. The flames reflected on the broken glass panes, scattering rainbows of multicolored light like a prism as the flaming inferno passed by.

My brain could hardly register that the meteor had missed the farm as it continued on its course, sailing over the first trees of the surrounding forest. Well, 'forest' wasn't really the best word to describe the overgrown plot of acreage that now belonged to me, for I hadn't had much time to tame the tangle of shrubs and boulders that lay west and south of the homestead. But like so many other things in my tangled life, I couldn't dwell on the sad state of my property as the sound of snapping branches and falling trees filled the evening, followed by a loud, rumbling crash that shook the ground beneath me.

From where I lay, still pressed on the dirt and grass, I could see a very dim orange glow begin to light the forest from within.

“Fire!” I screeched, flying to my feet. Grandfather's forest was burning!

SHIT, SHIT, double-shit-and-a-half!

The next few minutes were a blur of adrenaline-filled veins and half-baked decisions as I hastily filled my rusted watering can in the small pond near the garden. A piss-poor option to put out a forest fire, I know, but I had little else available to me! As I turned to enter the forest, my eye landed on the heavy canvas tarp that covered a nearby pile of firewood, giving me an idea worthy of earning a Girl Scouts badge.

“Smother the flames,” I said in a rush, hurriedly yanking the thick fabric off the woodpile, scattering wood chips and upsetting a nesting squirrel in the process.

Quickly thrusting the tarp into the pond, I glanced over my shoulder to the woods to check if the whole thing had gone up in flames yet. So far, all I could still see was the same faint glow of golden-orange through the shrubs and tree trunks.

Good, it didn't appear to be spreading too fast. That was one small mercy.

Dragging the thick canvas out of the water with a grunt (part of me regretted letting it get so soaked), I continued on my way, scowling as the extra weight of it slowed me down. But I figured it was too late to find something else as I rushed off into the woods towards the fire, dragging the canvas behind me and holding the little tin watering can in my other hand. It was slow and hard going, but luckily weeks of strenuous gardening, cutting wood, and clearing the worst of the boulders near the house had strengthened my body from the doughy, spindly physique of a desk worker to a more appealing, toned bod. But, regardless of my new fit state, I still hoped that I wouldn't be too sore tomorrow to plant the garden.

'Yes, Grandpa, don't you worry,' I thought to myself as I rushed into the woods, 'I'll attempt another season of crops...'

“Stupid meteor!” I grumbled a few minutes later as I picked my way through the underbrush as best I could while hauling my heavy load along with me. This definitely was not part of my promise to Grandpa, and it irritated me to no end how derailed my night had gotten!

“When this is over,” I grunted as the canvas snagged on a log, “I'm taking a hot bath and draining that last bottle of blueberry wine!” Tugging the cloth free, I overcompensated and fell hard on my ass.

Fuck, was that poison ivy I just landed in?

                       ~You really need to learn more about botany...~

                                                                      ~Idiot!~

That self-deprecating voice inside me from before decided it was a good time to scold me. I rolled my eyes and got back to my feet.

In the middle of my groaning and cussing at myself, I took a moment to check the status of the fire. Thankfully, it didn't seem like it was spreading, for the sticks and leaves that had ignited in the canopy were now floating harmlessly around me, the fire above almost completely burnt out. What few embers made it to the forest floor quickly sizzled and died - another small mercy in the heavy rain last week. And what was even better was that I was getting closer to my destination.

Confident that this part of the woods could take care of itself, I continued on my way to the brightest spot just beyond the next bunch of trees. As I drew closer, I could see the trajectory the meteor had taken through the woods. Several large branches had snapped like small twigs and were now hanging precariously above me as I followed the trail of devastation. The closer I got, the more the devastation went from -branches being destroyed- to -full-on uprooted trees- as I neared the impact zone.

Then, I was at the lip of a crater.

I dropped my fire-fighting tools as I stood, open-mouthed, taking in the sight below me in stunned silence. Nothing could have prepared me for what I saw!

There, in the base of the smaller-than-expected concave bowl, was nestled (not a molten chunk of rock) but a massive glowing, egg-like orb! Lit from within, the pulsing object illuminated the area with a harsh, golden light. Even as I watched, the surface of the orb began to darken as it cooled, the air around it still steaming after the initial, blazing impact.

“What in the name of Yoba....?” I breathed in awe as the pulsing began to slow. “A solid gold egg!?”

Indeed, my sleep-deprived, depressed brain wouldn't seek out the more obvious explanation for this situation – such as a fallen satellite or other common space debris. Not even a rocket ship filled with alien creatures from another world crossed my mind!

No, I saw an egg-type thing. So naturally I wanted it to be an egg!

Donovan had always accused me of having wild streaks of imagination (a trait he made sure to belittle and smother early in our relationship). And in this moment, that old tenancy reared up so fast that I couldn't help but fall into every fantasy tale that I had ever indulged in as they rushed through my mind.

Maybe fairy tales were real!

An excited grin spread across my face. “Eat shit, Donovan!” I exclaimed to the dying flames around me as the strange object continued to cool, the illumination dimming, throwing the forest into twilight.

Rational explanation be damned! Somehow, I couldn't help but feel that I had been blessed with some kind of magical boon!

Perhaps... Perhaps Grandpa had heard my desperate prayer...

“Maybe it'll grant me three wishes!” I said to myself, thoughts of sprites and other magical creatures from my fairy-tale-strewn childhood making me giddy with excitement. Such a scenario would be how Grandpa would answer. After all, he was the one who used to read such stories to me.

Secretly, I hoped he sent me a dragon! The egg was certainly big enough to hold a baby dragon. 

Right?

Throwing caution to the wind, I made my way down the uneven decline into the base of the small crater. As I neared the huge 'egg', I put my hands out in front of me, testing the air for the wall of heat I should surely be encountering as I neared.

Strangely, there was none.

“Huh,” I said absently as I drew ever closer. “It should be warm at least...” But what did I know of magical things or answered prayers? Shrugging, I placed one hand on the side of the object.

A breathy gasp escaped me, for though the air around the egg didn't feel hot, the surface of it was soft and warm to the touch, tingling my palm pleasantly. Running my fingers across the surface, I couldn't help but think of how it felt like skin... Like how the pulse was like a heartbeat and how the light was slowly fading.

My gasp became a strangled cry. My egg was dying!

“Hey!” I exclaimed, now putting both hands on it. “Hey! Don't do that!”

To my horror, the egg suddenly went dark.

Frantically, I pressed my hands against the shell, searching for a weak spot or any sort of indication that the egg was ready to hatch. Maybe it had been damaged in the fall? How was I supposed to help whatever was inside?!

“Please don't die!” I cried and tried to rock the egg from side to side but it was stuck firmly in the cradle of dirt at its base. Soon my palms were hot and sore. I gave up trying to nudge it and began slapping the surface of it as if to wake it back up. “Don't die! Don't die!” I repeated over and over as I searched the surface of the egg for a sign that my attempts were making any difference.

Nothing.

And what was worse, was the egg felt colder.

“Please don't die...” I was sobbing now, the thought of not being able to receive Grandpa's gift was upsetting me more than what was rational.

Throwing myself against the smooth surface of the egg, I wept against it, my tears and sadness falling on it as I desperately hugged as much of it as I could to my chest, hoping against hope that maybe my body heat would revive whatever was inside it.

“Please don't die...” I said through my tears. “ I need you. I need your help...”

                                                      *CRACK! *

Tiny, hairline fractures suddenly erupted each place one of my tears had fallen, webbing out across the surface and glowing in a multi-colored rainbow of light. Before I could think, before I could even blink, the whole of the egg was covered in glowing threads of swirling light.

Then, like fragile glass, the shell shattered away, crumbling under my palms and exploding outward in a blinding flash of radiance.

With a scream, I was flung back and landed against the side of the crater.

Just as quickly as it all began, the light was gone. The area was silent.

And if nothing could prepare me for finding a giant, dragon-sized egg inside a meteor crater, then nothing short of insane ramblings could even begin to capture what was actually inside it!

For there, crouched within the smoldering ruin of the impact crater was not the form of any mythical creature I had ever heard of, nor even an object that could rationally explain what had fallen from the sky...

Instead, it was a man.

A skinny, naked, golden-skinned man!

He crouched there on his hands and knees amongst the wisps of steam and fading, multi-colored light, trembling like a newborn fawn. Long, white hair fell across his bony shoulders and back, hiding much of his face.

Until that is, he lifted his head. His hair parted to reveal a long, sharply lined face, the features of which were well-defined, handsome even. That is to say, he would be handsome if he didn't look so serious. I watched, mesmerized by the strange sight of a golden man surrounded by smoke and magical light, as he slowly opened his eyes.

I never, not in my darkest nightmares, could have ever imagined anyone having eyes like what gazed back at me! Golden like the egg, gold like his skin, the man's piercing gaze locked on mine and held me, trapping me in pools of shining, molten gold. But, that wasn't even the strangest part of it, for his pupils were what terrified me the most!

His pupils were not round like normal humans. Instead, they were in the shape of black hourglasses!

In shock, I tried to scoot my way up the side of the crater and retreat, but the dirt was too loose. As such, all I managed to do was make my backside filthy and ruin my denim overalls. Giving up, I stilled and flattened myself against the ground, holding my breath in an attempt to keep myself from whimpering.

The man continued to look at me - through me - with a gaze that gave me the impression he saw all of my secrets like he was dissecting me down to my very core, exposing all my frailties and faults. I felt like he knew everything about me in those next few heartbeats we shared, locked as if we were in a staring contest that I had not signed up for.

And, what was worse was I felt like I was losing said contest.

A cold, cynical smile lifted the edge of his lips as he seemed to realize the same.

However, like him, I could suddenly sense much about this stranger: I've encountered his type before - cold, aloof, arrogant. This man was powerful and didn't care who he hurt or what he stepped on to get what he wanted.

However, there was also something else about him...

Something... undoubtedly familiar.

I'll be the first to admit that I don't understand the fabled magic rumored to bless a few chosen souls around the world. But I could feel something radiating off him. Magic or not, whatever it was, the only thing my mind could use to explain this sensation was to label it as such. Powerful, ancient, and strange magic unlike anything I had ever heard of in my childhood fairy-tale stories seemed to permeate the air around him and between us - cracking like invisible lightning.

My heartbeat quickened as every cell in my body told me that I was in danger. This was not right.

This was weird and wrong!

And, most of all, this definitely wasn't anything my loving Grandfather would have sent his favorite Grandchild! I watched, frozen like a rabbit in a viper's gaze, as the man who fell from the sky took a shuddering, uneven breath. And stood up.

Then, unexpectedly - contradictory even - many things happened all at once.

First, that strange sense of magic tingling in my senses winked out as if I had imagined it. Then, the man's golden skin evaporated, revealing the palest flesh I had ever laid eyes on. As this happened, the man gasped - a strangled, broken sound - and his eyes widened. As I watched in fascinated horror, those radiant golden irises turned blue, the shimmering hue and hourglass pupils vanishing as if they were indeed a remnant of my overactive imagination. Finally, those orbs rolled back into the man's head as he unceremoniously fell forward, landing face-first in the dirt without so much as a grunt.

I blinked stupidly, bewildered at the change in events. I had just gone from having a dangerous, magical, golden man in my woods to having to deal with a drunken, naked hobo!

Okay, now that seemed like something Grandfather would orchestrate! The thought crossed my mind as I glowered at the man's naked ass in the fading light of the fire above me. If it wasn't for the few remaining trailing embers in the canopy around me and in patches of forest, I would have certainly thought this person had just wandered off some nudist colony and onto my land!

Then again, maybe I had died when the meteor hit my house. Or, maybe, I was already safe in my bed sleeping away the rigors of the day and the aftermath of my emotional breakdown earlier. But why in Yoba's name would I dream of a dragon egg, only to get a golden, naked man instead?

I wasn't that goddamn desperate or lonely!

There was only one way to find out if any of this was real. Reaching my right hand over my left, I pinched the back of it.

HARD.

“Son of a bitch,” I groaned to myself, realization sinking in as I shook my pain-filled hand.

I wasn't dead.

I wasn't even sleeping or hallucinating.

As weird and unexplainable as this situation was, it was indeed very, very real! And it was clear to me now that Grandpa didn't send anything that could help me - not a wish-granting sprite or mystical artifact, let alone a magical dragon!

No, he sent a man.

And not just any man, I thought bitterly to myself, for if first impressions were any indication, then this man was an asshole !

And Yoba knows that I've had my fill of arrogant assholes!

“ Thanks a lot, Grandpa...” I muttered to myself sarcastically. “This is exactly what I needed!”

***

Chapter Text

***
FARMER
***

If someone this morning had told me that my day would end with a golden egg falling from the sky, only for it to end up being an unconscious, naked man lying in the middle of my forest, I would have laughed my ass off.

Well, here I am, standing on the edge of a small crater, embers of my forest raining around me.

And I am certainly not laughing!

What even is my life right now?!

Blinking a few times, just in case this really was all a hallucination (noxious space gas is a thing, right?), I shake my head and cautiously get to my feet. “Um... hello?” I call softly, the sound of my voice squeaking pathetically in my ears.

                         ~You idiot!~

                                 ~What if he's pretending!~

                                                          ~He'll attack you, or worse! ~

My usually negative inner voice for once offers sound advice as it fills my head. Even so, I take a step forward.

“Oh, for once, you're on my side?” I grumble to the voice like a crazy person as I take a quick look around. Spotting a nearby stick, I tiptoe my way over and retrieve it.

It's getting dark now. So much so that it's hard to see the area clearly. Nearly all the small fires have burned themselves out, and the only light illuminating the forest are the weak moonbeams from the waning yellow moon at my back.

Good thing this guy is so pale that his ass practically glows against the dark ground!

Suddenly, with a rush of heat to my face, I'm reminded that there is a naked man lying unconscious in front of me! “Hey!” I say, a little louder this time. “Are you okay?” I take another tentative step towards him. “Hello?” Still no response, and it's so dark that I can't even tell if he's breathing.

So I jab him in the head with the end of the stick.

HARD.

“Hey, Mister, wake up!”

Nothing.

Shit, he might actually be dead...

“This isn't funny!” I say, poking him in the shoulder for good measure, hard enough to leave a giant bruise in the morning and certainly hard enough that he would have reacted if he was faking.

Nothing. Not even a twitch.

Yup. Definitely dead.

My stomach drops into my shoes. I feel like I'm going to throw up!

I have no idea what to do. Do I report this to the authorities? What authority even is there in Pelican Town? Mayor Lewis? No, definitely not Mayor Lewis...!

Best keep this secret. No one else knows he's here. Maybe I can just bury him. He did leave a big enough crater, after all. I'd have to go back to find a shovel. Perhaps I could plant some saplings over him...

Yes, it's all coming together!

I eye the area, every episode of my favorite podcast, 'Everyday Serial Killers', running through my head as I try to figure out how I can hide the evidence. I could do it. I think...

But what if I got caught?!

Yoba, I hoped that I wouldn't be a featured episode someday! I can imagine its title now: Failed farmer turned murderous woods slayer – Will you be next? Thankfully, what they have to say must be interesting because the episode is over three hours long. My small slice of internet fame was all because I'm so inept that I can't properly bury a dead dude.

Leaning down, I hesitantly touch him with my free hand (the other still holding the stick like a club). To my surprise, his skin is warm, albeit a bit clammy. Carefully, I turn him over with a grunt. For someone so skinny, he's heavier than he looks! Gently, I move his long, white hair away from his face - now smeared with dirt and grime from his earlier face-plant. Yoba, he might have busted his nose during the fall, I realize as I take in the dark smudges under his eyes.

Out of nowhere, he takes a breath.

I screech in surprise and scoot away, kicking up more dirt in my haste, splattering his body with dark clumps of earth.

“Farmer!?” I hear faintly from somewhere in the direction of my house.

I let out a shrill, panicked scream before slapping my hand over my mouth. All this stress is going to give me a heart attack!

“Where are you, farmer?” the voice calls, louder this time. They're getting closer, no doubt drawn to the remaining trails of smoke through the trees. “Are you okay?!”

SHIT!

Shakily, I get to my feet as I recognize the voice: Maru.

Of course she would have seen the meteor fall! Who else would likely spot a falling space rock than the nerdy science chick with a telescope?!

“Forget the wine, I'm going to need to take a fist full of downers tonight...” I say to myself, relief and terror running through me in equal measures. 

Now that it's obvious that the man is actually alive, burying him is no longer an option. And I know that I cannot deal with him alone.

However, of all the people in Pelican Town, Maru is probably my best source of assistance. Not only is she, like, super freaking smart, but she's also a registered nurse who helps out at Harvey's clinic!

But, can I trust her?

I don't know Maru very well, and I have no idea how she'd react to learning that a man just fell from the sky. She might just nark on me, and I'll end up in prison anyway. Even so, I know that I need someone's help.

Suddenly, the title of my hypothetical podcast episode isn't nearly so exciting. Not only that, it's gone from the genre of serial killer altogether. Now, it's a drama episode: Crazed city girl in way over her head caught vandalizing a man's body in her woods – How could no one have seen this coming?

“Talk to me, farmer! Are you okay?” I hear Maru again, her voice much closer now. I had to make up my mind. And fast.

Better her than nobody.

I eye the stranger in front of me and see his chest move as he takes another breath. Still alive (at least for now). But, as I stand here, I can hear that breath rattle in his lungs. He's probably injured and needs medical attention! I can't have his death on my consciousness! Not today... It's bad for karma, after all. And Yoba only knows how my karmic scales are way whacked right now!

Also, I refuse to be an episode of a podcast!

Biting my lip harder than I need to, I make a quick decision. Rushing over, I grab the sodden tarp and toss it over the man's body. Even as the cold, sodden tarp slaps over his form, he gives me no indication that he will wake up anytime soon. Before I leave him, I feel his neck for a pulse.

Yup, still alive.

That's good. I guess?

I can hear Maru coming through the woods now. Thankfully, she had enough foresight to bring a flashlight. I can see its light flickering through the underbrush. “Where are you?” she calls again, her voice full of concern.

“Over here!” I cry, jogging through the trees to meet her halfway.

“Oh, thank Yoba!” Maru sighs and stops. Bending over, she puts her hands on her knees to catch her breath. “I heard a scream! Are you okay?!”

“Yes,” I say but quickly amend, “Errr, sort of.”

“I saw a meteor,” she says through gulps of air. “It was headed this direction, and when I heard the impact boom, I was worried it hit your farm!”

Impact boom. Great .

I take hold of both Maru's arms when she stands straight again. “Maru,” I say, very seriously, “Something did fall on my farm, but it's not a meteor.”

“What?” She blinks at me, the action barely seen behind the reflection of the flashlight's beam in her glasses. “What is it? Can I see it?”

I give a shaky sigh. “Before I show you, you have to promise me you can keep a secret.”

I can see the confusion on her face now. “You're kind of freaking me out,” she says, looking me over for the first time. “Are you okay? You're really pale. And you're shaking...” She takes me by the wrists, and it's then I realize that I am, indeed, trembling.

I try to give my most reassuring smile and have to remind myself that the folks here in the Valley are good, friendly people. Maru may not know me very well either, but it's nice to know that someone was concerned enough to come check on me. I know I'd never get the same response back in Zuzu City.

“I'm okay, Maru,” I say. “But...” My eyes drift over to the small crater just a few yards away before returning to her. Crap, this is taking too long! He might be dying as I waste time being a chicken-shit and trying to figure out how to tell this poor woman that there's a naked spaceman in my woods.

“Please, Maru,” I say and I can hear the panicked desperation in my voice. “What I'm about to show you, you have to promise me that you'll tell no one. Not Mayor Lewis. Not your parents. And certainly not Doctor Harvey!”

“Okay...” she says, subdued and clearly worried, the dark skin between her eyebrows furrowing with concern. “I promise.”

“Cross your heart,” I instruct, making an X symbol over my own chest.

Her eyebrows raise. “Fine, I cross my heart,” she said, mimicking the action over her heart.

“Good,” I breathe and take her by the hand. “Come on!”

It takes just a few moments for me to lead her through the trees to where I left the man under the soaking wet tarp. In hindsight, that probably wasn't a good idea.

Hypothermia, and all that.

Maru's reaction is strangely calmer than anticipated. “Oh, Yoba! What the fuck! Is he okay?!” Instantly she's at his side, her nursing instincts taking over as she's already feeling for a pulse and checking his breathing.

“I don't know,” I reply. “I found him like that.”

“Wait a second,” she says as realization sets in. I can see it happen in real-time as her posture stiffens and she slowly backs away from his body. “He's what fell from the sky?!” she almost shrieks, her eyes wide and her dark skin noticeably paling in the light of her flashlight.

Yup, now there's the reaction I was expecting!

“It doesn't make sense, I know,” I say, coming to her side. “He was inside a golden egg that disintegrated when I touched it. But, he looked different at first! His skin was gold too. And his eyes...” I realized I was rambling and sounding crazy.

Luckily, this whole situation was batshit - Joja Cola - crazy!

“Please, Maru,” I kneel next to her and take her by the shoulders, “I need your help with this! You promised! Don't flake on me now.”

“Okay, okay,” she replies, turning back to the stranger. “He's still alive, but I can't tell if he's injured.” She lifts the tarp away, and I watch her eyes grow even wider. “Um, he's naked.”

“I know that!” I hiss, feeling my skin flush at the reminder as now there's a flashlight illuminating the area in question beneath the tarp. “I don't know what the proper protocol is for falling out of the sky, but it obviously doesn't involve doing so fully clothed!” I say, sarcasm dripping from my overly stressed voice. “What, you think I undressed him?! He was like that when the egg he was inside shattered!”

Maru shakes her head, and I can see that she, too, is trying to figure out if this is all just a really bad hallucination. “We need to get him to the house,” she says finally. “Where did you get this wet-ass tarp anyway? He's freezing !”

“I thought my forest was on fire,” I explained pathetically. “I was going to smother the flames with it!”

“That would have been a good idea,” she nods, clearly impressed by my innovative thinking, “if it was actually a meteor. But circumstances as they are, he's just going to become hypothermic this way.”

“All the more reason to get him to the house!”

Maru nods again, her thick, wavy hair jumping at the movement. “Even though it isn't helping him, we can use it to drag him. It'll make it easier for us, and if there's anything broken, it'll be easier on his body if we slide him rather than carry him.”

“Good idea!”

See, I knew she was smart!

It only takes us a few minutes to get the man wrapped securely in the tarp and make our way through the woods, hauling our charge between us as we do.

***

Chapter Text

***
FARMER
***

It takes the better part of an hour before Maru and I drag the unconscious man all the way to my house, get him inside, and in my bed.

“He's filthy,” Maru comments as she removes the tarp from around the stranger, letting the heavy fabric fall to the floor with a sloppy thud. “We should really get him cleaned up.”

“Like a sponge bath?” I ask, handing her my Grandmother's handmade, patchwork quilt. She eyes me, one dark eyebrow cocked as she takes the thick blanket as if to say ' DUH'. “Oh, no, I'm not touching him. You're the nurse. Isn't that, like, something you specialize in?”

Maru scoffs and throws the blanket over him. “I wouldn't have pegged you for such a prude, farmer.”

“I'm not a prude!” I shoot back. “Maru! This man fell from the sky and landed on my farm tonight! I'm trying really hard not to have a freaking panic attack right now!” It was true. I feel like I'm on the verge of completely losing my shit.

She sighs and comes to my side. “I know. It's going to be okay,” she assures me softly. Her dark brown eyes are full of understanding and sympathy as she lays a hand on my arm. “Take a breath, farmer. I won't bail on you now. I'll stay and help. Ground yourself. That's it.”

I gulp a few lungs of air as she reassures me. As I do, I'm reminded that, out of all the people in Pelican town, only Maru and Doctor Harvey are aware of the slew of medications I take in attempts to wrangle down my mental health issues. Even though it's been months since leaving my old life, I still struggle with all the wounds: The after-effects of a messy divorce; quitting a stable job, and barely making enough to feed myself; with what Don did to me...

“You got a bucket or something for warm water?” she asked.

I nod, numbly.

“Good. Go fetch me some with a rag and soap. I'll get him cleaned up while you go make some tea,” she instructs calmly. “Eat something too. You look a bit peckish.”

I take a shaky breath. “Is he going to be okay?” I hear myself ask.

Maru shrugs and pushes her glasses up the bridge of her nose, her gaze returning to my bed and the stranger lying on it. “He seems stable enough. So, I think so. There doesn't seem to be anything broken, at least. Though,” she adds, “his breathing isn't exactly what I'd call normal... He really should be seen by Doctor Harvey.”

I nod again, not knowing what to say or do. We can both hear the slight wheeze of the man's faint breathing. Clearly, something is wrong with him even though neither of us could see anything physically out of sorts with his ribs or chest. Either it was just how he was, or he had internal damage.

If that was the case...

Visions of a small clearing in the middle of my woods fill my head. Small saplings are the only thing to mark his grave. The sound of a familiar podcast buzzing in my ears: No one would have ever have guessed that a small town could harbor such a cold-blooded killer as...

“Farmer?” Maru's voice pulls me from my macabre daydream.

“Water. Right!”

“Do you have a drying machine?” she asks. “If so, can you put more blankets in to warm? It'll help bring his temperature back up.”

I leave my bedroom, still crowded with unpacked boxes from my move months ago, and walk through the living room, snatching stray blankets off the couch and chairs as I pass. I head towards the bathroom, grabbing a large cooking pot from on top of the stove as I do. I then make my way down the tiny hallway, passing the stacked washer and dryer unit I had bought and installed when I moved here (and when I still had money). Throwing the blankets into the dryer, I set it on high and continued through the adjacent doorway into the bathroom.

As I ambled like a zombie through my house, I, for the first time, realized the disorderly state of my living space. With all the time I've spent trying to get the farmland cleared, crops planted and kept alive, and going to the mines to get ore, I have severely neglected the inside of my Grandfather's house.

No, it's my house now. I have to keep reminding myself.

                                   ~He's never coming back~

                                                                    ~This is all your doing~

                               ~What would he say to see you treat his house like this?~

Shame and a heavy sense of self-consciousness washed over me then. What would Grandpa say if he saw how I was living?! I hadn't done a thing to make the place look nice, and now Maru saw that I lived like a degenerate.

Don always said I was a poor homemaker, and now I saw just how much I really did suck at this farmer thing...

                                                     ~Failure~

The old pipes in the wall rattle a bit as I turn the sink on and grab some soap out of the shower along with a washcloth, and stand there, staring at my reflection in the mirror as I wait for the water to reach a stable temperature to fill the pot with.

I looked terrible.

I had definitely lost weight since moving here. This was obvious by the way my overalls and shirt were baggy on me. A far cry from the up-kept, make-up-riddled, arm candy bombshell that Don made sure I was, I looked completely different from my old self. Dark circles now ringed under my lavender eyes, and my braid had all but come undone, stray strands of dry hair frazzled out of the plait at every intersection. Once a vibrant shade of blonde, I had dyed it blue shortly after moving here. But now, it was as faded and dull as the rest of me. It had been Emily's suggestion to dye it in the first place, and I wondered (not for the first time) if it suited me or not. But, bless her weird, metaphysical-loving heart, she said it matched my aura.

                                                                ~Yeah, because you're a hot mess of depression...~

That voice just never stopped!

“Shut up!” I grumble to myself as I put the pot under the now slightly steaming stream of water and begin to fill it. Once done, I throw a larger towel over my arm, heft the pot out of the sink, and carry it back to the bedroom to find Maru sitting on the edge of the bed, her eyes still on the unconscious stranger.

“Any change?” I ask, setting the pot on the nightstand beside her.

“No.” She shakes her head. “Here, I'll do this,” she says and takes the washcloth I had wet before lathering it with soap. “Do you think you have any clothes that will fit him?”

I blink. Right. He can't stay naked forever!

“Yeah, I think so. Lemme look,” I said. Going over to my dresser, I ignore the fact that Maru has pulled the quilt away and begun to wash the filth and grime off his face and chest. It takes me a moment, but I eventually find a flannel pair of lounge pants and an overly large shirt that I usually wear to sleep in that I'm pretty sure should fit him. He isn't that much bigger than I am, after all. A bit taller, maybe, but definitely smaller in the hips and ass - say nothing of the fact that he lacks the mammary tissue that plagues the front of my chest.

“Here,” I say to Maru, coming to her side as she finishes drying off his face and neck. He still hasn't so much as twitched, but at least some color has returned to his face since being under the warm quilt for a few minutes.

Maru quirks an eyebrow. “Really? Kitty pants?”

I flush. “What? It's the largest pair I own! He can sue me if he hates it!”

She shakes her head with a giggle. “I don't hear him complaining. Here, you're going to have to help me dress him.”

I take a steadying breath and avert my eyes as much as I can while I hold him so that Maru can pull the bright pink, kitten-riddled atrocity that was my favorite loungewear over his skinny legs.

“He is the whitest white boy I've ever seen!” Maru comments as she yanks the pants up over his bony hips.

I can't help but laugh. “That's saying something,” I say as I help her pull my old T-shirt over the man's head. “I've seen your brother!”

Maru laughs too. “Sebastian is a pale basement dweller, isn't he?”

I can't help but smirk a bit as I think of Maru's half-brother. Tall, with black hair and dark, blue-black eyes, he indeed was a pale specimen of humanity. It didn't help matters much that he barely left his room. A free-lance programmer by day, and a reclusive personality by night, Sebastian was about as antisocial as anyone I had ever met.

That's probably why we get along in the first place!

Though our interactions have been few through the months, I can't help but be drawn in by his brooding eyes whenever I glimpse them behind the wall of his dark hair. I sighed inwardly, Sebastian was a lot younger than me. Not to mention dramatic and eye-rollingly emo (like some angsty boy band dropout). But, I couldn't help but find him strangely attractive.

The complete antithesis of Don...

“That he is...” I agree with Maru's earlier statement, trying not to think about the fact that I felt way too old to even think such thoughts. I sighed again. So many of Pelican Town's inhabitants are much younger than me. Maru included. She was barely twenty-one years old, while I was watching my third decade draw ever closer!

“There,” Maru says as we lay the comatose man back against my pillows. He looks much better now that he's dressed and isn't covered in dirt. As one, we hear the dryer give an electric buzz.

“I'll get it!” I say and hurry out of the room, taking one last glance at my friend as I leave. She looked tired too. Noticing this, I make a mental note to think of something nice to do for her to repay her for her help tonight.

A child of their mother's second marriage, Maru looks nothing like her half-brother, I think as I make my retreat. Naturally, she has a much darker complexion than Sebastian, thanks to Demetrius, her dark-skinned father. Neither of the siblings had inherited their mother Robin's red hair, nor her vibrant green eyes. That's not to say they didn't have hints of her in them, for Sebastian had a slight sprinkle of freckles on his nose and Maru's dark hair did have a tint of auburn in the right light.

In my defense, I had only noticed that Sebastian had freckles because he had gotten really close to me the last time we had played pool together down at the Stardrop Saloon... I shake my head to clear it as I remove the warm blankets from the dryer.

“Cradle-robber!” I mumble to myself, thinking again of how young Sebastian was. I didn't need someone like him in my life anyway. From what little I had gathered from him, things weren't good for him living at home with his mother and stepfather - whom he didn't get along with. Because of this, he was doubly mopey and unhappy and the two of us would just depress the hell out of one another real fast!

Besides, Maru was one of my only friends, and after her help tonight, I didn't want to endanger that friendship with a messy relationship that would surely happen if I did somehow get closer to her brother

Sorry, half-brother.

If I really wanted someone in my life -and I didn't!- there were other bachelors in Pelican Town that I could get to know better. Like Sebastian's sunny, blonde-haired, skater-boy buddy Sam. The two of them were polar opposites and Sam's puppy-like demeanor was a far cry from what I was used to.

Naw, I thought to myself, with another shake of my head. Even that would get old really fast. Too happy for me anyway. I'd crush his poor soul.

Okay, not Sam... who else was there?

~There's Harvey...~ That little voice whispered in my head. ~ He's a good guy and would treat you way better than Don ever did.~

“Shut up brain! I don't need your opinion right now!” I scold myself as I slam shut the dryer door and make my way back to the bedroom, still lost in my irritating thoughts of how pathetic my track record in regard to love has been up to this point.

Hey! There was the mysterious, handsome poet who lived down on the beach! At least he seemed the most mature.

                                 ~Besides Harvey~

What was that guy's name again...? Eh, didn't matter. From the few times I actually got him to talk to me, the man's personality reminded me of a bland, dry cracker. Even if he did look like someone straight off the cover of one of my romance novels! Elliot (that was his name!) was a refined gentleman and spoke flowery words...

Definitely not a good fit either.

I sighed again and rubbed my eyes as I walked. No one from this small town needed to get involved with me and my baggage anyway, so I had decided early on to keep my distance from the lot of them.

And I was going to hold firm to that resolution.

Loneliness was an ever-present companion of mine, after all. And one that I knew well...

“Thank you!” Maru beamed at me and took the blankets from my arms upon my return. Quickly, she laid them around the man's prone form and replaced my Grandmother's quilt over top them all. “There, he should be nice and toasty now.”

Indeed, he looked like a veritable human cocoon. But not a butterfly cocoon, I decide as I stare at his pale face and white hair falling around his head. More like a moth... Yes, he looks like a moth.

A pale, skinny, white moth.

“I don't know how to thank you, Maru,” I say honestly, pulling my thoughts back to her.

“Well, that tea you promised me is a start,” she says with a wink.

My face-palm makes her laugh again. The sound of it is nice. Destined to be lonely or not, I decided to spend more time with Maru.

“Come on.” Taking me by the arm, she leads me towards the kitchen. “I don't think he's going anywhere. Let's get a snack.”

A few minutes later, as we sit at my table, sipping our peppermint tea and nibbling on dry rice cakes, Maru's cell phone buzzes in her pocket. She retrieves it and flips it open. “Shit,” she says.

“What's wrong?” I ask, concerned.

“It's my dad,” she replies, typing furiously, the sound of little clicks filling the room as her fingers dance across the keys.

“Is everything alright?”

“Yeah,” she sighs. “But you know my old man, he's so paranoid about everything. He's just wondering where I am.”

“It is getting late,” I say, looking at the clock above the pantry. “It's after midnight. Maybe you should head home.”

“Naw, it's fine,” she says and scoots closer to me. “Smile!” she commands and, before I can even blink, she snaps a picture of the two of us. “There, proof that I'm not dead in a ditch somewhere,” she says dryly and hits SEND on her phone.

I glance over at the picture she just took and groan. I look like absolute shit, sitting there wide-eyed and hair in disarray with my tea held up in my hand like a clueless moron. “You could have given me a better warning!”

“It would have been more suspicious if I'd have taken longer to send a picture,” she explains. “He probably has a timer on my replies.” She rolls her eyes and pushes her glasses back up her nose.

“Geeze, sorry,” I mumbled, unsure of what else to say.

Maru shrugs. “I told him that we got to chatting and lost track of time and that I'll be home in the morning.”

I blink incredulously at her.

“Come on, farmer! I'm not leaving you here alone with a stranger in your house!”

“Right... I hadn't thought of that,” I say dumbly. The more I consider it, the more relieved I am that she had the foresight to think of such things. “Thanks, Maru. You're a good friend.”

“Don't mention it,” she says. “Like I told Dad, by the looks of it, you're long overdue for a girl's sleepover and we have lots of juicy gossip to share!”

I roll my eyes and give another defeated sigh. “I'm sorry about that, by the way,” I feel like I have to address the mess around us. “As you can see, my house isn't... well... not in a good state to host guests. I'll get it cleaned up the next rainy day we have. I swear.”

“Being a farmer is tough work and it keeps you busy.” She waves away the apology. “And I know that you use those days to go into the mines. Though...” she continues, eyeing the messy, overcrowded kitchen. Like my bedroom, I've only gotten around to unpacking the most necessary living items. Everything else was still packed away in boxes and plastic totes, their labels just as pristine as they were the day I put them on. “If you do happen to need help around here, you can ask. You know that, right?” she asks, her gaze back on me.

I swallow through the lump in my throat. I know she's just trying to be nice, but I can't help but be a tiny bit insulted. “Thanks. But I'll manage.”

Maru nods and sips her tea and the silence that follows feels awkward as I take my mug to the sink. It was then that Trixy ambled her way through the cat door, depositing a dead mouse near our shoes. She gives a triumphant trill as I give her the old stink-eye while she sits by her empty food dish and waits for her kibble.

I sigh in defeat as Maru laughs. At least someone was enjoying themselves!

****

Chapter Text

***
FARMER
***

Maru and I spend the next few hours watching bad B-movies on TV while taking turns checking on the comatose spaceman that has invaded my bed. Even though Maru assures me that he seems stable, there isn't any indication of when he'll wake up. If ever.

The next thing I know, I open my eyes to find that it's morning. Well, early morning, for the sky outside is barely beginning to lighten. As such, my living room is still dark and filled with shadows. I check my phone: zero missed calls and no texts, as per usual.

The time is 5:30 am.

I curse my new early-rising routine and stubbornly close my eyes again, wishing for all the world I could sleep in. Unfortunately, I have so much to do today! I need to get the garden hoed, head into town, and buy seeds, plant said seeds. Water them. Then, if I have any shred of daylight left, maybe see what fish the new season has brought into the area via the river south of my land.

No matter how urgently my brain chatters about getting started on the day, I feel like I haven't slept at all. My head hurts, my legs ache, and I can feel the beginning of cramps coming on. The good old red tide is probably close at hand, I realize, mentally tracking the date and remembering that I've started taking the placebo pills in my monthly pack. Yes, I was hormonal yesterday. That would explain my hopeless sense of despair. There's something else nagging at the edge of my thoughts, but a movement nearby distracts me.

At my feet, Maru stirs as well. She's lying against the opposite side of the couch from me, our legs slightly tangled together under the large blanket that we're sharing. Trixy, who was all cozy in the nest of limbs and cloth, gives an annoyed 'merp' and jumps to the floor, her tail flicking at us.

“Morning,” Maru mumbles and rubs her eyes as she reaches for her glasses.

“Morning,” I croak, sitting up. “You want some coffee?”

Yes. Coffee first. Hoeing later...

“Please!” she yawns and gets up too. “But first things first, I'm going to go check on our sleeping beauty.”

Oh, shit! That's right! My headache grows infinitesimally worse. That was what my brain was trying to process before Maru distracted me. There go all the things I need to do today!

“We're going to have to figure out some kind of cover story for all this,” I say, rubbing my eyes so hard I momentarily go blind. “I hope he wakes up soon so we can get some answers...”

“Yeah, me too,” Maru agrees and stretches, groaning as her spine cracks.

As she ambles to check on my uninvited guest, I make my way through the archway to the kitchen, automatically starting the coffee maker as I futilely attempt to smother my yawns with my hand, my jaw popping just as loud as Maru's back.

A scream from my bedroom instantly fills my body with adrenaline. I grab the closest thing next to me and dash to my friend's aid. I'm no expert fighter, but I've managed to kill enough slimes and bats in the mines to learn how to defend myself. Fighting off a human assailant, one that could be harming my friend, was a whole new scenario I never thought I'd face. But I would make damn sure to prove to him that if he planned on harming us, he wasn't going to have an easy time of it!

I nearly run into Maru as I enter the room and quickly put myself between her and the bed, brandishing what I finally realize is my Grandfather's trusty cast-iron skillet like a weapon. Though the room is dim, my eyes easily find the bed's occupant, still half-buried in blankets. The uninvited spaceman was very much awake and wearing the expression of someone who was both extremely confused and furiously angry. He's glaring at us, those pale blue eyes of his narrowed to dangerous slits, his fingers curled against the quilt covering him look very much like claws ready to defend himself if needed.

I note that, though he looks like someone ready to fight for his life, his breathing is shallow and slightly wheezy, and his arms are trembling. As I watch, his eyes quickly dart around the room, no doubt looking for an escape.

Good, he's just as scared of us as we were of him!

“What happened?” I ask Maru, not taking my eyes off him.

“I'm sorry,” she replies, more to the stranger than to me. “I was just checking on you, I didn't mean to startle you...” She looks at me then. “I think we scared one another more than anything.” Gently, she puts a hand on my arm, silently asking me to lower my impromptu weapon. I refuse.

“I didn't mean to scream,” Maru assures me, somewhat sheepishly, then adds, “I had just taken his pulse and was trying to take his temperature when his eyes suddenly popped open, And it just... really freaked me out!”

“ Temperature?!” I ask, my mouth falling open. “Why? And how ?!”

“H-his mouth! And because I needed to make sure he wasn't running a fever!” Her eyes widen. “YEESH!” she exclaims and turns red, blushing furiously when she realizes that I thought she had gone digging around somewhere else in her pursuit to get his morning baselines.

In my defense, it would explain the extremely annoyed and pissed-off look on his face if Maru had indeed attempted such an endeavor rectally. I made a mental note to throw that thermometer away. Just in case.

“I'm sorry,” she says again, this time to him, her hands out at her sides in a passive manner. “No matter what my perverted friend may think, I wasn't trying to do anything to you except make sure that you were okay. We're not going to hurt you.”

His eyes darted between us, the look encompassing the cookware and what I'm sure is a manic expression on my face. Once again, Maru urges me to relax my defensive posture. With a shaky exhale, I lower the skillet and let it dangle against my thigh. I may not trust him, but now that I knew he wasn't hurting Maru, I didn't feel the need to bash his brains in.

At least, not yet.

“We don't mean you any harm,” I say in agreement with Maru. “I know you're confused. We all are. My name's Erowyn, by the way. You landed on my farm – Solace Farm,” as I explain, I catch the flicker of something in his eyes as his eyebrows twitch slightly, “- in Stardew Valley, near Pelican Town,” I finish, hoping that maybe in offering our location, he'd perhaps know where he was.

The three of us stare at one another in silence for what feels like forever.

“Can you understand us?” Maru suddenly asked.

Shit! I hadn't considered that there may be a language barrier between us. If that was the case, it was going to make things extremely difficult...

Those pale, razor-sharp eyes flick at her, cutting the air with their hardness. “Yes,” he says after taking a slow, more steady breath. His voice is softer than I imagined it would be as if he's used to speaking in whispers. “I can understand you.” There was also a strange accent to his enunciation that I couldn't quite place.

“Okay, good,” Maru continued, both of us relaxing just a bit. “I'm Maru, Erowyn's friend. I helped her bring you out of the woods.”

His eyes flicker again as he examines the two of us. The hard, untrusting look is still on his stony features. His face has a sharp quality to it that did not exist in sleep, and I can't help but be unsettled by how close he resembles that dangerous-looking, golden-skinned man I saw before he passed out. He has a long, angular face, with an aquiline nose and a strong, tapered chin. Lines crease around his mouth, lines that look like they've done far more frowning than smiling, giving him a particularly serious and scholarly air – like that one really cranky professor I used to have in college. His cheekbones are well-defined and distinct, while the spaces beneath them are hollow and slightly sunken - like the space around his eyes.

His whole air and demeanor looked like someone who spent all of his time pouring over books, caring more about knowledge and his own agenda than the goings-on around him. He definitely cares more about that than taking the time to eat a damn sandwich, I decide, remembering how easily I could count his ribs from across the room. But I had to also remind myself that I knew nothing about this man. Maybe health problems were the reason for his low weight. This thought was reinforced as a possibility because I could hear him breathing from where I stood. Though he had calmed slightly, the way he breathed made me concerned he was an asthmatic. And he was fighting hard to keep his breathing under control.

“You fell from the sky,” I explained, getting right to the point at hand. “Do you remember that?”

He blinks then, confusion obvious on his face, softening that hard expression.

“Your skin was gold too...” I continue, “as were your eyes. Your eyes were also-” I stop. The look on his face as his eyes dart to his hands is unmistakably more than merely confused. There's also shock on his features as he raises those long hands before his gaze, inspecting them. And there's something else in his expression. One that I can't quite explain while he looks at his fingers as if it's the first time he's ever seen them. His breathing has spiked again, rattling and wheezing growing infinitesimally louder.

'Please don't have an asthma attack,' I silently pray.

“What's your name?” Maru asks.

He doesn't reply. Only stares at his hands in dumbfounded shock, turning them slowly in the dim morning light filtering through the window next to him. He flexes his fingers and waits, still watching. He manages to hold his breath for several heartbeats. Finally, he releases that breath in a rush and coughs a bit. Regaining his composure, he blinks and shakes his head as if he is expecting his hands to look different or do something other than just be hands with fingers and skin.

Maru and I look at one another, both confused and unsettled by his reaction and silence.

What a weird duck.

“Solace...?” his voice hissed through the quiet, startling Maru and I. “You said your farm is in Solace?” His piercing gaze, which I haven't quite accepted as being friendly, is once again on the two of us.

“Um, no,” I reply, confused and slightly taken off-guard by the hopeful tone I hear. “That's what the farm is called – Solace Farm. My Grandfather titled it that when he homesteaded it years ago. I inherited it when he died.”

His face falls a bit. He looks almost... disappointed?

I can't help but feel a little sorry for him. Weird though he may seem, he clearly knows less about what was going on than we do.

Letting his hands fall back to his lap, the man holds our gazes again for another heartbeat before looking around the room, finally getting a chance to take in the space.

The anemic morning light hits the side of his face, and touches the stray, white strands of hair around his head, giving me a clear view of his features now that he's awake.

I decided then and there that I liked his face when he was unconscious. He looked... almost handsome without the tension and mistrust coiling every muscle in his body and expression. And his eyes... I can't say that I've really ever seen that shade of blue before. His irises look almost like a newborn's, so bright and clear were they – not to mention how he looked at things as if seeing them for the first time.

As he stoically examined his surroundings, I noted that his eyes also had a look about them that conveyed deep intelligence. Cold and pale like chips of ice, he had the kind of eyes that possessed the ability to read people and situations.

Yeah, my first impression of him in the woods was right. I know his type. He was good at reading people. Dissecting them. And, by extension, I knew he was good at manipulating them.

'I have to keep my guard up,' I tell myself. Even though he looks kind of lost and pathetic right now, I can't trust that he won't suddenly turn into that person he was, crouched inside that golden egg, looking like some evil, maniacal wizard about to take over the world.

No, all that couldn't have happened! I shake my head and frown at myself. Even though my head hurts today, I feel like now that I've acknowledged my mental state last night, there really had to be a logical explanation for all this..!

“Look,” I say again, “we're all confused and have questions that will take time to answer. But, let's just get one thing straightened out right now: We mean you no harm if you mean us no harm. However, if you are here to hurt me or my friend - or anyone else in this Valley or plan on taking my farm from me - then this skillet will become acquainted with your face in a hurry. Get it?” I finished, hoping that I sounded as intimidating out loud as it did in my head.

He nods slightly. “Your heroic bravado is unwarranted. I mean you no harm as well.”

“Okay.” I released the breath I didn't realize I'd been holding and finally put down the skillet on the dresser next to me. “We just want to help you and understand what happened. Do you remember anything?”

His gaze holds mine again, and while it isn't exactly what I'd call friendly, it's at least not as hostile as it was at first. Also, I can tell that he is truly unable to make any sense of what's going on.

“No,” he replies at length, a small crease forms between his eyebrows. “I don't remember...” his soft voice, somehow, becomes softer.

“Do you... Do you remember your name?” Maru asks him again.

His eyebrows knit even tighter together as he searches inside for the answer, his breathing again becoming labored and erratic. Absently, he rubs his chest as he thinks.

Beside me, Maru makes a tiny, worried sound. We look at one another, a silent exchange of sympathy passing between us. Either he's an excellent actor, or truly he didn't know where he was, how he got here, or even who he was. He didn't seem to be in pain, but he did seem uncomfortable and agitated. But he can't be blamed for that, I suppose.

I feel bad for him, I really do, but it was starting to dawn on me that this situation was getting more and more complicated. It wasn't going to be a simple - “Oh, pardon me, I just fell out of my airplane, and now I'll just be on my merry way!” - or some other perfectly normal explanation. I was stubbornly choosing at this moment to ignore the whole meteor and golden egg situation. Deciding instead to write all that off as stress, depression, and the monthly tidal wave of hormones making my imagination go haywire.

Maybe I had forgotten to take my meds yesterday... I did that. Sometimes.

The memory of standing in the abandoned community center last week with Mayor Lewis fills my head. I had seen weird things then, too. Tiny apple creatures that were - clearly - tricks of my unbalanced brain chemistry.

After the fact, I remembered that I had forgotten to take my medications that morning.

Yes, that had to be what had happened!

I could hear the nightly news blaring how Maru and I both witnessed a meteor fall to the ground, but it didn't actually land on my farm. Instead, while I was investigating the fall-out trail, I stumbled upon a squatter in my woods. Just a weird, homeless dude living off the land. Like Linus. 

All that other stuff - the egg, the gold skin, the menacing air, and the 'magic' I felt around him - was just my tired brain letting my exhaustion and mood catch up and overwhelm me.

Whew! Glad I figured all that out!

But... I had to accept that this guy was nothing like the kindly old man who lived up in the mountains behind Maru's house. And the situation was more complicated now that it appeared he had amnesia.

I was about to say something, anything, to try to offer my sympathy or suggest a course of action when, finally, he replied, having found some answer deep within his scattered memories: “Raistlin,” Those pale eyes find mine again. “I was – am – Raistlin Majere.”

The expression on his face tells me that, even though he has found his name, he has no idea what that even means. But, he knows it's important.

And will do anything to come to understand it.

A little shiver runs up my spine. In a span of a blink, I'm quickly forced to accept that the golden man who smirked so dangerously at me last night - one who was wreathed in strange magic and power and made every alarm bell in my head go off - was real.

All of it had been real.

That man, the one who I was pretty sure was the true Raistlin Majere, was a far cry from the confused, almost vulnerable one sitting harmlessly in my bed.

I decided then that I never wanted him to remember anything else. For I had a feeling that if he did remember, then I would come to regret letting him into my house...

And for that matter, my life.

***

Chapter Text

***
FARMER
***

“Well, Raistlin,” Maru says after we bask for several moments in awkward silence and absorb the strange name he's offered us. “How do you feel? Are you in any pain? Are you hungry? Thirsty?”

He shifts his legs under the blankets and takes a moment to assess himself. “I seem to be intact.” His face and demeanor shift into that of a scowl. “Tell me everything you know,” he says, those intense blue eyes boring into me. “How did I get here? Where did you find me?”

“Um,” I reply uneasily, unsure of where to even begin. Taking a deep breath, I then relate everything that had happened last night, excluding my pathetic prayer to what I thought was a shooting star. I tell him what the meteor looked like, how its reflection in the panes of glass of the greenhouse glittered all colors. I describe how it blazed through the sky and how a piece of it broke off and continued south. I then went on to tell him how the forest glowed and how I thought it was on fire, only to find minimal flames and a very unexpected golden egg in the impact crater. Again, I left out my imaginative fantasy that my Grandfather had sent me a magical dragon (or something even a tad more personable than what I ended up with). Instead, told him how I thought the egg was dying because it began to go dark.

“When I touched it,” I said, coming to the end of the story, “the shell shattered, throwing me back against the dirt. I'd like an apology for that, by the way,” I attempt to scold him in a playful tone. “My ass really hurts today.”

He only glares at me, looking very annoyed by the slight sidetrack to the story. Okay, yeesh , he can't take a joke!

“When I looked up, you were inside and...”

Raistlin cocks his head to the side slightly. “You said my skin was gold?”

I nod with a gulp, remembering the dangerous look in his eyes when he first smirked at me. Then, pressing my lips together, I let silence fall once more, unwilling to share anything else, lest he remember.

He doesn't seem to notice my reluctance to finish my train of thought as he again looks at his hands, a distant expression filling his long face. “Yes... I had gold skin, once...” His forehead furrows as he thinks. “I thought something about my hands looked different.”

“You did have a strange look when you woke up,” Maru interjects. “You looked as though you expected your hands to do something...”

He flinched then and, somehow, his pale skin got even paler. Before I could ask what was wrong, he cleared his throat with a shrug. “Anything else?” he asked, meeting my gaze again.

I shook my head. “Maru arrived at that point. Well, after you took a step forward and passed out. Everything gold about you vanished, and you were out cold after face-planting pretty hard in the dirt. She helped me get you in the house and get cleaned up. I hope you don't mind... that we had to wash you and dress you.” Behind me, Maru cleared her throat. “Well, Maru did the sponge bath. So blame her if your nethers are still gritty.”

She made an offended, strangled sound but I ignored her. Raistlin doesn't seem phased by this bit of the story, however. Again, he didn't seem to have any sense of humor at all – didn't even flinch. Maybe, if he did have a funny bone, it broke when he fell. Doubtful.

“In any case, you were rather filthy, and that's my Granny's handmade quilt you're all snuggled up in. It's an heirloom, and I can't wash it every damn day. So we had to get you cleaned up.”

“Sorry to inconvenience you,” he murmured in a sardonic tone. “Next time I fall from the sky, I'll make sure to let you know ahead of time.”

I shrug. “It's not like I have anything better to do, spaceman,” I shoot back. For some reason, his stare is irritating me, and I decide I want to rip that quilt off him before he gets any more of his smarmy attitude on it.

“Okay, you two!” Maru steps in between us. “It's been a really weird twelve hours and acting like that isn't going to get us any closer to answers. Especially the ones involving what to do next.”

Both Raistlin and I relax and I'm a bit alarmed at how close I've wandered to his bedside; both of us leaning toward one another, our postures defensive.

“You are right, of course,” Raistlin simpered. Sitting back against the pillows, a look of weariness seemed to overcome him then. “But...” he says, his voice soft again, “that doesn't explain where I am. Nor how to get back.”

“Where are you from?” Maru asks.

He blinks. “I... I am not sure.”

“Well, he seems lovely,” Maru says a while later once it became clear that Raistlin had reached the limit of his energy and, what I suspected, was the last of his willingness to talk to us. After bringing him water and some honey toast, Maru and I left the room to allow him to rest and gather his thoughts.

“He's a jerk,” I grumble into my coffee mug before siging as the life-giving liquid washes down my throat. Sweet, Yoba, you bless me with your gifts!

“He's in shock,” Maru clarifies. “I can't imagine how confused he must be by all this.”

“Oh, he's the one confused?” I shoot back. “How am I supposed to get him back home, and what am I supposed to do with him until then?”

Maru shushes me. “Calm down,” she says. Her face softens as she looks at me. I'm still so high-strung that I can barely keep my coffee mug steady. “Give him a few days to recover,” she says in a more gentle tone. “With time, hopefully, his memories will return and he'll know where he came from. Then, we can figure out how to get him home.”

“And I'm just supposed to let him stay in my house? Sleep in my bed? What do I look like? A bed and breakfast?”

“You look like someone who needs a nap,” she scolds and takes a swig of her coffee.

“Fine!” I reply petulantly. “I'll just let him sit in my room and grow all comfortable with his new surroundings like a stray little kitten, and next thing I know when I go to check on him – WHAM! - he goes for my kneecaps.”

Maru rolls her eyes but doesn't get a chance to retort as her pocket starts to vibrate. Retrieving her cell phone, she checks it and groans. “Dad is wondering when I'll be home.”

I eye the clock. “It's not even 6:30. What if we're hungover? There's no way we'd be up yet.”

“Don't you think that's exactly why he's texting?” she sighs and scoots towards me again.

“Oh, no you don't!” I exclaim and give her phone the old bird as the flash blinds me.

“Wyn!” Maru scolds. “Be nice and let me take another picture! I'm not sending one of you flicking off my father!”

“What? It's a genuine reaction...” I grumble as quaff more coffee in an attempt to fill my body with dark, liquid energy.

She chuckles and hits SEND . “Point taken.” Closing her phone, she pauses to look at me. “You really are a ray of sunshine in the morning, aren't you, farmer?”

I sag into my chair and rub my eyes. They feel gritty and dry. “Sorry, Maru. I'm just... really tired. And all this is... just so freaking weird that I don't know what to do!”

“I know,” she says sympathetically, her dark eyes drifting to the other room and beyond to the closed bedroom door. “But, you're not alone in this. I'll do what I can to help.”

“Thank you,” I sigh. “I'm grateful for your help so far, Maru. I really am.”

She nods and drinks her coffee.

“But,” I continued a heartbeat later, “you can't stay here all of the time. You need to return home. Sooner rather than later before your dad comes sniffing around. No cover story in the world is going to explain all this...”

“Yeah...” She leans back in her chair and rubs the back of her neck. Her eyes again go in the general direction of my bedroom. “About that. You're going to have to think of something soon and let me in on the secret.”

I agree but don't reply. I'll have to figure out something, and soon. But with the foggy state of my brain right now, I can't even begin to come up with anything.

“He seems harmless enough.”

“Until he turns out to be a serial killer,” I say. “Broken kneecaps, remember?”

“You listen to that mystery murder podcast too much,” she smirks. “He doesn't seem all that dangerous. Sarcastic maybe, and a bit of a smart-mouth. But you seem like you'll be able to keep up with him if he gets too snarky.”

I shrug and lower my eyes as I slowly turn my coffee mug in my hands while chewing on my lower lip, anxiety creeping into the pit of my stomach. She hadn't seen him in those first few moments; hadn't seen the look on his face or in those weird, scary eyes he had...

Maru's phone buzzes again. “Dammit, Dad! I'm on my way. Yeesh!” she growls and slams back the last of her drink before taking the mug to the sink and washing it out. “Sorry, Erowyn,” she says as she rinses the ceramic clean. Maru doesn't say my name often, usually preferring to call me Farmer or Wyn for short. Out of all the inhabitants of Pelican Town, she's the only one to have picked up that habit. “But I really should go. You'll call me if anything changes, right?”

“Yeah,” I reply.

She eyes me, both of us knowing that I've never once returned a call and barely a text in the few months I've been here. With a sigh, she heads to the door and I get to my feet to show her out like the good bed and breakfast hostess that I am.

Right before we reach the door, she stops. “Oh! Do you have any pepper spray?” she asks, her face very serious.

“I thought you said he didn't seem dangerous.”

“Best be prepared, just in case,” she says quietly. “Well, do you?”

“Yeah.” I nod my head to the bag that hangs near the door, the one I now take into the mines when I venture there. Next to it hangs the small, rusty sword that Marlon up at the Adventurer's Guild gifted me before my first delve into the mines' dangerous depths. “And I have that if I need it.”

Her lips quirk up. “I forget that you are the fearless bat-slayer,” she teases.

“And slime-squasher,” I add, puffing out my chest. “Fuck those little shits.”'

She laughs quietly. Again, I'm reminded of how truly nice of a sound it is. I need to think of something to give or do for her to repay her for this bit of friendship she's shown me. Apparently, she takes my silence for apprehension. Either that, or I really do look as nervous as I feel, for she leans in and gives me a hug.

“Be careful, farmer, okay?”

I swallow back a lump in my throat. “I will, Maru. Thank you again.”

With another smile and nod, Maru finally leaves and I'm left alone with the all-to-familiar silence that is my life.

Except that now there is a stranger in my bedroom sleeping under my Grandma's quilt.

I putter around the kitchen for several minutes in an attempt to tidy up. Eventually, I find myself outside my bedroom door. I hear nothing within the tiny room. No sound or stirring. My new guest is probably fast asleep. Weary, I decide that, yes, indeed, I need a nap as well. So, despite all the things I should be doing as a farmer, I curl up on the couch and resolve to be less cranky the next time he and I interact.

***
RAISTLIN
***

Raistlin sat in the middle of a small bed, a glass of water and plate of toast sitting untouched on a nightstand next to him. In the other room, he can hear the murmured voices of the two women, but he can't tell what they are saying. Though, like as not, they're probably discussing him. The sharper-sounding voice belongs to the jumpy, blue-haired one, while the richer, deeper tone belongs to the one with dark skin.

He didn't care what they were saying about him. It's irreverent and of no consequence, he knew. He can about imagine it though: their frustration, the confusion, for the same thoughts plague him – because he hasn't the faintest idea of what was going on!

But, what he does know, is that the one with blue hair - the one who called herself Erowyn, whose farm this was and who this bed belonged to – knows more than what she was letting on. He could tell that she was holding back something about when she had found him in the woods, and Raistlin was determined to find out what that something was.

His eyes drifted to his hands again, the strange feeling gnawing at the back of his skull that something was off. Sure, they looked like normal hands; looked like they should be his. Yet, the thing was, they weren't his hands.

At least, they weren't how he felt like they should be.

She had said that he was gold (the blue-haired one did) and Raistlin felt like that seemed right. As odd as it sounded, gold seemed appropriate, and he almost felt naked without the tint to his flesh. Naked and vulnerable in ways he couldn't explain. Then there had been what the other girl had said: about how he had first been looking at his hands as if he expected them to do something. He was unable to squelch the reaction that overcame him when, in his mind's eye, he recalled that his skin should wither .

Yes, that was it... He was used to seeing his body decay. So why then, was it not?

And why was he okay with such a horrible vision? Why be okay with the fact that he perpetually saw himself in an ever-constant state of dying?

Who was he?

All he had was a name and a vague collection of images that he did not understand. Yet how he knew that his name was Raistlin Majere, he wasn't sure. He just did. Like how he knew the sky outside was blue and that three moons hung in the sky - silver, red, and black. But, only powerful men like him could see the black moon. To regular mortals, it was hidden.

His eyes narrowed as he continued to study his hands. How did he know that? What kind of man was he that he was one of the few to be able to see a hidden moon?

What did that mean?

He sighed in frustration and ran his hands through his hair - his long, white hair, just as he somehow knew it was. For it to be any other color, would be wrong. “Raistlin Majere...” he whispered quietly to himself.

Again he looked around the room. It seemed ordinary enough. Quaint even. It was a bit on the small side but it had a serviceable bed and a dresser with some ornate vase on top of it. Beside the object, a small framed image of an elderly man stared back. At the opposite end of the dresser, nearer the door, the blue-haired woman had left the skillet behind. Not very bright, Raistlin thought, for he now had a weapon if the two of them decided to harm him. He decided against getting up to retrieve it, however, for he didn't particularly feel threatened. The rest of the room was decorated with a worn, woven rug on the floor, and flowery cloth curtains framed the window on the wall nearby.

Reaching out, Raistlin took the glass off the nightstand and sipped its contents. Without realizing it, he quickly drained it, being thirstier than he had thought. Eyeing the toast, he chose to ignore it for now. Not that he thought the women had poisoned him or anything. They seemed harmless, after all.

Setting the glass back down, Raistlin peered out the window as best he could from this angle. He surmised that it was early morning, for the shadows were long, and dew clung to the creeping ivy that clung to the side of the house.

The sound of the women's conversation in the other room ended, and Raistlin heard a door close. Moments later, he glimpsed the dark-skinned woman briefly as she walked from the house to disappear down a nearby path. Unable to discern anything about the area in which he was, he drew his attention back to the encounter with the two women.

The blue-haired one called her farm 'Solace Farm' and Raistlin tried very hard to figure out why the word Solace seemed so familiar to him. It was important and, strangely, stirred a sense of something akin to homesickness.

Was that where he was from? A place called Solace?

Yes, that too, felt right. Or, at least, Solace was a place he was well acquainted with. Like his name, he found comfort in having something familiar to him. Raistlin tried then, desperately, to recall this place but was rewarded with a headache for his efforts.

It was then that he heard the light tread of footsteps approach and stop just outside the bedroom door. He tensed and waited for the blue-haired woman to interrupt his thoughts. Heartbeats passed and suddenly, he heard her leave. Good, he did not have the energy to deal with anyone right now.

How could he, when he didn't have the energy to even deal with himself?

Yawning, he laid back against the pillows once more. Since the woman seemed to be keeping her distance, Raistlin was more than happy to take this time to rest and hope that perhaps in sleep, he'd find answers to some of his questions.

Raistlin drifted off to images of giant, red-leafed trees with quaint buildings nestled in their colossal branches and of a lake so crystal-clear that it mirrored the sky above. He dreamed of an Inn and of a long table surrounded by patrons... Of a large man wearing a golden dragon helm. Of a dwarf, a knight, and a handful of other, strange and unlikely heroes.

The words 'We'll go out through the kitchen' echoed in his head as he dreamed.

***

Chapter Text

***
FARMER
***

I barely get another hour of sleep before the call of nature yanks me from restful slumber. With all the excitement this morning, I had neglected to pee and am now paying the price for consuming an extra mug of coffee.

Grumbling and cursing the necessities of life, I shuffle my way to the bathroom, once more pausing to listen at my bedroom door. Again, I hear nothing, so I quickly continue towards my very important destination.

I can't help but sigh in relief moments later as the call is answered. I also find that my earlier suspicions are confirmed, for Aunt Flo was indeed preparing to make her appearance, as indicated by the faint smear of blood on the toilet paper and the few dark spots on my panties.

'Great, all my clothes are in the bedroom,' I think to myself as I insert my trusty menstrual cup, effectively taking care of that particular problem for the rest of the day. However, the issue of changing into fresh clothes would have to wait a while. Luckily, the damage to my underwear was minimal, and the cup would prevent further soiling.

Since being on birth control, my periods had become fairly light (if not still somewhat uncomfortable). At least I could get through the day (even on the heaviest ones) with only emptying the small silicon wonder once or twice instead of visiting the bathroom several times to change any other means of absorption. This was a godsend, especially when I was so busy working on the farm that I often forgot to eat.

Washing my face and hands, I begin untying my braids, grunting and cursing like a sailor as my brush gets caught on the million knots that now plague my thick hair. I sigh again as I work, studying my tired face and haggard appearance in the mirror as I do.

I need to dye my hair again. The roots are showing their true color - that of dark, ashy blonde. However, the years of bleaching the strands have left my hair dry and damaged. I don't like my natural color, but I was sure as hell never going to bleach it again like I did while with Donovan.

That's how he liked it: beach-blonde and long, immaculately groomed and styled to perfection.

Since leaving him, I did whatever I wanted with it. It was a small form of petty revenge, but I took what I could. The main satisfaction came from not caring so much about it anymore. It used to take me over an hour to get primed to his liking. Now, such a waste of time was laughable.

It really did need a cut. A lot! But, unfortunately, I do like my hair long - even if it was a pain in the ass to manage and keep clean working on the farm. Eyeing the frazzled ends, I make a mental note to beg Emily again for her services. A full cut was out of the question, but I could do with a good trim... Maybe to my shoulders? I ponder this as I gather the now brushed length into a long ponytail. I need to take a shower, but not until I'm able to get some clean clothes to change into, and that probably won't happen for a while.

Besides... I need to prepare the garden anyway. I have a few hours to prep before Pierre's General Store opens. I can get a few rows in the garden hoed before then.

Suddenly, the sound of violent coughing catches my ear.

***
RAISTLIN
***

Raistlin doesn't sleep much either.

No sooner had the images of things that seemed familiar played through his mind, did they vanish again into a haze of confusion that fogged his brain. He opened his eyes and heard the sound of someone moving through the house again, followed by what sounded like water running. Through the far wall, Raistlin could hear the muffled mutterings of the farmer woman as she went about whatever it was she was doing. Annoyed, Raistlin finally decided that he had enough of laying in bed and it didn't seem as though the woman was going to rest anymore either.

Slowly, he shifted his legs out from under the covers. Swinging them over the edge of the bed, it was then that he saw the bright pink, whimsically feline-riddled pants that the woman had deemed fit to dress him in. Glowering, he scoffed and then tried to read the shirt he was wearing, but couldn't quite make out the words due to the fact they were upside down and faded. No matter how far out he pulled the fabric out or turned his head in an attempt to get a better view, the words were illegible.

Giving up on that, he carefully lowered his feet to the floor and tested his legs. He didn't feel any pain and could move them (obviously), but he felt weak and unsteady. If what the women had said was true and he had indeed fallen out of the sky, then there was no telling what kind of damage he may have sustained.

Gingerly, he stood and shuffled to the nearby window, grabbing hold of the edge of it and steadying himself, for some reason compelled to look outside. Maybe he hoped to view the tall, brightly-crowned trees from his dream. Or, perhaps, glimpse one of the three moons in the sky.

Something, anything , familiar would be a most welcome sight.

Raistlin opened the window and scanned the horizon beyond the trees. The sky was much lighter now. Another hour at least had passed, but the morning was alive with the sounds of birds and the scent of blooming things. Large, fluffy clouds lazily drifted along the heavens, their undersides bright with the low sun. He couldn't see much due to the nearby trees (trees that looked nothing like the ones in his dream) and was about to give up on finding anything familiar when a large mass of clouds close to the treetops drifted apart to reveal a moon.

Raistlin's breath caught in his throat.

He had never seen a moon like that. He was sure of it!

Small and yellow, the wedge of it was plain and, simply put, so very ordinary that it made his stomach drop. He stared at it for a heartbeat before tearing his eyes away and searching the sky for any more.

Raistlin searched and searched, growing more agitated as he did. With each moment that passed, the realization sank in. Wherever he was, he no longer was where he was supposed to be!

It was then he felt the emptiness.

The moons he remembered were important. They meant something to him. They gave him something...

Trembling, he searched his empty mind for any inkling of what used to completely fill his being. He knew something used to be there. But it was gone now.

And terrified him.

He clutched at his head and pulled at his hair, all the while losing control of his breathing. His breath came in small gasps, closing off his airway. He tried to clear his throat, but it only made him cough all the harder. He dug his fingers in the wood of the window frame, still trying in vain to see the moons.

Faint recollection drifted to him through the panic: of times just like this where he'd cough so hard he'd spew up blood. He faintly recalled that someone would be there to help him through it.

Suddenly, he felt a presence beside him.

***
FARMER
***

“Raistlin!” I cried after opening the door to my room and seeing him huddled next to the window, holding onto the ledge like a man about to drown.

Rushing to his side, I kneel beside him. “Raistlin!” I call again and try to pull him off the ledge, but his long fingers hold on with more strength than I thought he could possess.

“The moons!” he struggles to say through his coughing. “The-”

“What?” I ask and finally managed to break his skeletal grip on the window frame. He drops to the floor like a stone and curls in on himself, coughing so hard I swear a lung was about to fly out. The sound is laced with the wheezing of an airway closing off. FUCK!

“Raistlin, listen to me!” I say and manage to get him into a more upright position. “You have to calm down! You're having an asthma attack!”

He doesn't seem to comprehend what I'm saying, and all I can hear are the horrible wheezes he's making as he struggles more and more to draw air into his body. He's still trying to talk, but all I can make out are the words 'moons' and 'magic'.

His head lolls to the side, and I see how pale he's becoming, his lips tinged with the faintest blue. FUCK! FUCK!

Quickly, I dash into the living room and retrieve my cell phone. I flip it open to see that Maru has already texted me several times. I ignore the messages and search my contacts as I rush back to Raistlin's side. He's still struggling to breathe. The sound is horrible as Raistlin again curled in on himself.

“No, Raistlin, you have to sit up!” I order and push him back up. He doesn't resist me this time as I hold the ringing phone between my shoulder and ear as I move his arms behind his head and hold him up against the wall in an attempt to open up his chest cavity.

“Hello?” a voice says in my ear.

“Thank Yoba!” I breathe in relief. “Dr. Harvey, I need your help!”

“Erowyn? What's wrong?”

SHIT! My brain suddenly freezes, for I have no cover story to explain any of this!

“What's going on? Are you okay?” Harvey asks then. He must be able to hear Raistlin's faint coughing and struggles to breathe.

“My friend is having an asthma attack!” I say, jolted out of my panic. “The airport lost his luggage so he doesn't have his inhaler. Please, Doc, come quick!”

“I'm on my way!” Harvey says, and I can hear the sound of him grabbing things in the background before the line goes dead.

I drop the phone and focus on keeping Raistlin sitting up, trying my best to keep his chest as open and wide as possible in an attempt to force his airways back open. It helps some, but not nearly enough. I look into his pale face. His eyes are wide and red-rimmed, wet with tears from his struggles.

“The moons...!” he rasps, and I notice a faint hint of blood flecking his lips.

I shake my head, not understanding what he's saying. “Shut up!” I command. “Save your breath for breathing, not talking!” It was a stupidly obvious thing to say, I realize, but I can't help it. Raistlin looks terrible, and if Harvey doesn't get here quickly, he was about to lose consciousness.

“Look at me, dammit!” I practically shout. Raistlin does his best, and his eyes finally meet mine. For a heartbeat, I can't fathom how these blue eyes are the same terrible golden ones I saw last night. “Breathe,” I say, forcing that image from my brain. “Small, slow breaths. You can do it!”

For what it's worth, Raistlin tries his best. However, I fear that this attack has gone on far too long for me to bring him back from the brink.

Agonizing minutes tick by until, blessedly, I hear the sound of Doctor Harvey's moped through the open window.

“Listen to me,” I say to Raistlin. His blurry eyes are barely open, and I don't know if he can even hear me through his struggles. “Doctor Harvey is going to help you. He's a good man. Trust him and do whatever he says. I'll think of something to explain why you're here. Just play along, alright?”

I don't know how much he heard or understood, but Raistlin blinks once before the sound of my front door banging open draws my attention. “Erowyn?!” Harvey's voice calls. It's honestly the sweetest sound I've ever heard!

“In here!” I shout. “Through the living room!”

A second later, Harvey appears in my doorway. He barely pauses to take in the scene before he dashes to our sides. He can see how bad the situation is, and he's already fishing through the large bag he brought with. With professional efficiency, Harvey takes out a mask, tubing, and medication before quickly assembling the parts and placing the breathing mask over Raistlin's face. Hooking the tubing up to a small device, it hums to life, and I can see a faint mist already reaching Raistlin's mouth as the nebulizer begins to work.

I suddenly realize that Harvey's been talking to me, but I'm too distracted as I watch Raistlin's reaction to the medication now slowly entering his respiratory tract. It must be working, for his eyes seem more focused, and some color has returned to his face as his airways begin to relax.

Harvey, apparently recognizing that I, too, am in shock, gently removes my hands from holding up Raistlin's arms. The Doctor sits me next to Raistlin, and I realize that I'm violently shaking and on the brink of hyperventilating.

'Of course,' I think, as I curl around my knees, pulling them close to my chest, 'I'm deep within the grip of a panic attack.' Without comment, Harvey pulls my grandmother's quilt off the bed and wraps it around me before returning to the patient in far more urgent need.

From within the hyper-focused storm that is my nerves firing on overload, I watch Harvey, tender as always, as he examines the strange man who fell from the sky. He listens to Raistlin's lungs with a stethoscope, looks in both his blue eyes, and takes his pulse – all the usual Doctor things.

Raistlin, in the meantime, is holding the mask to his face, trying his best to keep his breathing even and slow as the medication fully begins to work. I can see the shock and surprise - confusion, even - written on his face as the device restores his breathing. And, his life.

What kind of place did he come from if they didn't have such technology? How did he survive so long with asthma this bad? I can't help but think to myself, but I'm relieved nonetheless, for it seems to be working. And bit by bit I, too, relax. Though I am far from okay myself.

Suddenly, Harvey appears in my vision and presses a glass of water into my hands. “Drink,” he says to me. His soft brown eyes are gentle and full of concern. Harvey's lips under that winged mustache of his are turned down in a worried frown.

I obey and start sipping the water as he arranges the pillows against the headboard on my bed. Harvey then disappears into the living room only to reappear a moment later holding several more pillows that he's taken from the couch. Adding them to the pile, he takes the nebulizer's compressor unit into his hands before helping Raistlin off the floor, going slow and being gentle with his patient in the way that only a kind doctor can be.

Watching this, I slowly come back to myself as my nerves calm and the panic attack lessens its grip on me. 'It's going to be okay,' I tell myself. 'No one is dying today.' But it sure was a close call!

Silently, I observe Harvey and the stranger as they shuffle back to the side of the bed. They are of similar height, but it is now that I can truly see just how rail-thin Raistlin is. I've seen plenty of skinny guys in my day. Knew several during college, in fact. But seeing the two men side by side is enough of a comparison to confirm that Raistlin's most definitely the skinniest guy I've ever seen. If the man didn't have an eating disorder or another underlying health problem, I'd be shocked.

Ever-so-gently, Harvey helps Raistlin back into bed, speaking reassuringly to him as he does, telling him that he'll need to sit up until the machine's timer shuts off so he can get the full dose of the bronchodilating medication in the nebulizer. I notice that Raistlin is nodding, but he doesn't really seem to understand what the doctor is saying. He just numbly agrees and gives short replies while still holding onto the mask as if afraid to let it go, his eyes wary and guarded. I only hope that Harvey writes the behavior off as after-effects of the asthma attack.

Seeing that the worst of it has passed, I gather myself up off the floor. Harvey, ever the gentleman, comes to my side and assists me. “And how are you feeling?” he asks.

“I'll be okay,” I respond, removing the quilt and returning it to the bed. Raistlin and I make eye contact as I awkwardly adjust it over his legs, but I can't quite define the look he gives me.

“Let's let him rest a bit,” Harvey says. “The machine has a few more minutes to work, and I'd like to speak to you. If you don't mind.”

I glance back at Raistlin, and he gives a small, weary nod in understanding. I nod back before following Harvey through the doorway into the living room. It's then that I notice I must have gotten the doctor out of bed himself, for he looks to have thrown on his white lab coat over his own flannel pajama bottoms and T-shirt. And, funnily enough, his shoes didn't match. On his left foot is a soft brown suede slipper, while the other is an old tennis shoe.

We stop on the other side of the doorway, far enough to give Raistlin a bit of privacy, yet close enough that Harvey can still keep an eye on him in case something happens.

“Are you alright?” he asks again.

I start when I realize I'd been staring blankly ahead. “Uh, yeah,” I say, exhaling. “I'm better now.”

“That was a close call,” Harvey says, pushing his glasses up his nose. “A few more minutes, and I'm afraid there might not have been much I could have done without getting him to the clinic ASAP.”

I wrap my arms around myself, not wanting to think about what might have happened.

“You say he lost his inhaler?”

“Huh?” I blink and look up at Harvey.

He nods to the bedroom. “Your friend. You said something about the airline losing his luggage...”

Oh right! Shit! Frantically, I search through my sluggish brain to come up with a plausible explanation. “Y-yeah,” I stammer. “He's an old college friend,” I say. “He's having a rough patch in life and needed a place to crash. I could use help for the summer's harvest, so I invited him to visit... but the airline lost all his luggage.”

Harvey nods, his eyes studying mine. I can't tell if he's buying it or not. “Would explain why he's presumably wearing your clothes,” he says lightly, his tone trying to be joking. “And sleeping in your bed...”

There it was.

I can't help but blush as I'm reminded of the fact that I know full well the crush that Pelican Town's doctor has on me. Poor, sweet Harvey... I wish I could feel the same. But I just don't. Not now.

And maybe not ever...

“He's just a friend,” I say, more defensive than I mean to be. “We got back late, and Maru happened to have been walking by when we arrived, so the three of us were up talking. I let Raistlin have my bed after his long flight while Maru and I crashed out here.” I indicated the obvious disarray of blankets and remaining pillows strewn across the couch. Harvey didn't need to know that this was the typical state of my house on any given day.

He nods and glances into the other room where we can both see Raistlin sitting up against the pillows, eyes closed, but still holding onto the mask and breathing. His face was pale and drawn with exhaustion, but he looked comfortable enough.

“Thank you,” I mumble softly, “for coming so fast. I don't know what I'd do if...” I can't continue, lest I spiral into another panic attack. I know next to nothing about the man in the other room. Even so, the very thought of watching someone die filled me with such sadness and dread that I honestly knew I wouldn't be recovering from that trauma anytime soon.

“Think nothing of it,” Harvey says and runs his hand through his mop of thick brown hair, making it stand out even worse than it already was. He's frustratingly adorable in the way he shyly shuffles his feet as awkward silence settles between us.

“Can I offer you some coffee?” I ask him to change the subject, knowing that we'd have a few more minutes of waiting for Raistlin to finish getting the entire dose of his medicine.

“I'd love some,” he says with a beaming smile that lights up his face.

~You have to admit, he's pretty adorable~ That tiny voice in my head decides to chime in.

Argh.

I busy myself with making more coffee in silence as Harvey watches from his spot at the kitchen table. A million thoughts clog my sluggish brain as I work. First and foremost is how self-conscious I feel under his gaze. With my medical records being transferred from Zuzu's hospital to here, Harvey knew more about my past than anyone else in Pelican Town. Depression and anxiety meds aside, he was the only one privy to the knowledge about my attempted suicide and... 'other' medical happenings that occurred while I was with Donovan.

It was clear to me that Harvey was a professional, and he took patient confidentiality very seriously. As such, he wouldn't bring anything up unless I did. However, one glance at him out of the corner of my eye confirmed that there was a 'small-town bumpkin' side of him that wanted to know all the juicy gossip about the newest arrival.

I set a steaming mug of fresh coffee in front of him before turning to take the jug of milk from the fridge and adding a splash of it to mine. Leaving it on the table between us, I join him.

“So...” he begins as he ignores the milk and drinks his coffee black, “How have you been doing out here, Erowyn? How did last season's crops end up?”

“Dead and shriveled,” I grumble into my mug.

“I'm sorry to hear that,” he states, clearly at a loss as to how else to reply.

I sigh and rub my eyes. “Sorry. I don't mean to be snippy. It just... hasn't been a good morning.”

He quirks a little smile at me and nods sympathetically before taking another sip. After a moment, he adds, “That was good thinking of you to hold his arms above his head like that. Did he have attacks that bad in college?”

“My roommate had asthma,” I say, and this time it isn't a lie. “But her allergies prevented her from being able to use an inhaler. So she told me what I'd have to do in case she started having a severe attack – besides calling the emergency number, that is. Thankfully, the occurrence never came up. Until now.”

Harvey nods, but before he can add anything else, the timer on his phone goes off, signaling that Raistlin's nebulizer was about to finish. He downs the remainder of his coffee, wincing as it burns his mouth, and gets up. “Come on,” he motions to me to follow. “I'll show you how the nebulizer works. I'll leave it here today,” he says as we walk towards the bedroom. “That way, it's here in case he has another attack and, at the very least, he can have one more dose of the bronchodilator tonight before bed.”

We enter the room to find Raistlin waiting for us on the bed just as the compressor delivering him oxygen shuts off.

“There,” Harvey says, coming to the other man's side, “how do you feel?”

“Better,” Raistlin rasps as Harvey helps to remove the straps of the face mask from around his head. He takes a slow, even breath but the action causes him to cough a little.

“Easy now,” Harvey soothes. “I want you to talk and move today as little as possible so that you don't irritate your lungs.” He's taken his stethoscope out again and is listening to Raistlin's chest once more. “Do you know which type of inhaler you use?”

“N-no,” Raistlin responds, flashing me a confused look.

“Are you taking any other forms of medication to regulate your asthma?” Harvey continues.

Raistlin shakes his head, causing Harvey to frown as he slings his stethoscope back around his neck. He asks a few more questions and I watch, helpless, as Raistlin struggles to reply. I know that these questions are typical history-taking that any medical professional in his place would do when getting to know a new patient, but it's clear to me that Raistlin has no idea what Harvey is talking about.

“You've told me before that your head gets pretty muddled after an attack,” I interject, piling on the lies. “Isn't that right, Raistlin? You just need to rest and we can try to get Harvey his answers later when you're feeling stronger.”

Raistlin nods. “I am tired,” he says brokenly. “I must rest.”

“Alright,” Harvey says, clearly catching on to my not-so-subtle change in conversation. “Have you ever used an emergency nebulizer like this before?” He indicated the machine on the nightstand that Raistlin had just used.

Again Raistlin shakes his head and Harvey proceeds to show both of us how to use the device. “I want you to use it again before you go to sleep tonight,” he checks his watch as he speaks, “at about 10 pm if you can stay up that long. I know you'll be tired today after what you just endured.” He glances up at me. “So you might have to keep track of the time and wake him up for it if he has fallen asleep.”

I nod.

“Alright,” Harvey says as he gathers up his medical bag. “I want you to come into the clinic first thing tomorrow morning. I'll give you a proper exam and we can go over more of your medical history so that I can get you the right medication to replace what you lost.”

Raistlin nods but says nothing.

Turning to me, Harvey adds, “And of course, call if anything happens. Even if he has another attack and the nebulizer is helping, I still want to know right away.”

“I will,” I say and the two of us exit the bedroom, leaving Raistlin alone while I show the Doctor out. We reach my porch and Harvey suddenly pauses on the step. He turns to look at me and I brace myself for whatever is going to come out of his mouth.

“You know,” he begins hesitantly, “if you needed help on your farm, you could have asked. I would have been more than happy to help in any way I could.”

I suppress a sigh as I lean against one of the porch's support posts. “I'm still new here, Harvey,” I reply. “And I have nothing to offer in return for anyone's help.”

His eyes flick to the doorway as if to say, 'Except for his help?' Instead, he says, “You are of Pelican Town now, Erowyn. We want you to be a part of our community but we can't get to know you if you avoid us...”

“I'm trying my best,” I say softly.

“I know. I just... worry about you out here all by yourself.” His voice is soft and friendly.

I sigh this time and rest my head against the post, eyes closed, because I can't bear to see the sympathetic look I know he's giving me with those big puppy-dog eyes of his. “I'm fine, Harvey. Really, I am,” I say and after a few heartbeats, I finally open my eyes.

I'm right about his gaze. Big, brown, warm ... Doctor Harvey had the eyes of a kind soul.

He wants to say more, I can tell. But he's torn between being professional and trying to be a friend. Nevertheless, the gentle aura he exudes is far too alluring in my fragile state and it makes me want to become his friend...

Argh.

“I'm fine,” I repeat, crossing my arms in a non-verbal signal this conversation was at an end. He catches my drift and turns back to his moped and begins to secure his bag to it. I catch the frown he's trying to hide from me, but I can't bring myself to apologize.

Harvey mounts the seat and as he puts on his helmet, he says, “Say, Erowyn, I heard on the airspace radio last night that there was a meteor that passed over Stardew Valley. Did you happen to catch sight of it?”

I freeze and swallow hard. “A meteor you say? No, no I didn't see anything last night. I was picking up Raistlin, remember?” I blurted, remembering my cover story.

“Pity,” he said. “I would have liked to hear about it but it seems no one in town saw it... Maybe Maru did,” he adds thoughtfully. “I'll have to ask her when she comes into work today. If she was on a walk before coming here, there's a chance she caught a glimpse of it.” With that, he starts the vehicle's tiny engine and gives a wave and a smile before turning around and returning to his clinic.

I wait and watch to make sure he's well out of sight. “Shit!” I curse and hastily retrieve my phone from my pocket and quickly send Maru an impromptu message about what just happened, as well as a sloppy explanation of the shitty cover story I pulled out of my ass to explain our secret regarding the asthmatic spaceman we hauled out of my woods.

Seriously, could my day get any more complicated?

***

Chapter Text

***
FARMER
***

I closed my phone after reading Maru's reply to the hasty series of texts I sent her after Harvey left. They were barely legible due to the sheer amount of errors and weird auto-corrected words my phone decided to throw in there. But whatever. The important thing was that she got the gist of it. I just hoped she was able to fashion good enough explanations for her father and boss. At the very least, she'd come up with something good enough to have a cohesive cover story. Maru was a smart cookie. She'd figure it out.

I didn't want to think about it anymore, so I went back into the house to check on Raistlin and maybe attempt to grab some clothes before heading back outside to work on the garden. If he was supposed to rest, I didn't want to be in and out of the room disturbing him.

Peeking my head around the door frame, I find him with his eyes closed, head resting against the pillows. Tip-toeing into the bedroom, I make it to the dresser but forget that the one drawer squeaks when opening it. I grit my teeth and glance at the bed to find that he's already looking at me with an annoyed expression pinching his face.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to wake you. I just thought I'd grab some clothes to change into after I work outside in the garden,” I explain as I quickly do just that. “There,” I say as I close the stubborn drawer, making more noise than was necessary in my haste. “Done. Do you need anything before I go outside? Some food, maybe?” I ask, noticing that he never ate the toast we brought him earlier.

“I'd appreciate the use of a chamber pot, or to be pointed to the nearest privy,” he says quietly, his voice still rough.

“What... Chamber pot..? Oh!” I stammer, the request clicking in my head after a moment of confusion. “Where do you come from..?!” He looks at me, confused, so I stumble on. “What I mean to say is: I don't have anything like that. I have indoor plumbing, so, ah, well... Never mind, I'll show you to the bathroom. Can you walk?”

He nods and slowly gets out of bed. He's weak but manages to stand. I instinctively take a step in his direction to offer help, but the sharp look he gives me makes me pause. It reminds me of the scary look he gave me last night: dangerous but also annoyed and defensive.

“This way,” I motion for him to follow. Which he does, albeit slowly. “It's just around the corner and down the hall here past the kitchen.” He follows behind me, using the wall for support. He seems weak as a kitten, and I can't tell if it's from the asthma attack or the fact he hasn't eaten a thing in, well, who knows how long.

I guide him through the house and flick the light on in the small bathroom. The sudden appearance of bright light overhead takes him off guard, and I startle at his tense reaction to the sudden brightness. “Sorry,” I mumble, ashamed of how frazzled my nerves still are. “You must come from a place without electricity too...?”

He blinks, so I point to the overhead light.

“It is not magic?” he asks, eyeing the small, glowing bulb within its glass confine.

“No, it's not magic.” So I was right. That was magic I sensed coming off him. And, come to think about it, he did try to say something regarding magic before his fit...

Great.

I clear my throat. “Here is the toilet,” I say and lift the lid. “Just, uh, do your business and then hold down this lever when you are done to flush it.” I demonstrate. “It's a really old toilet, so you'll have to hold the handle down until it totally empties. Then you can release it.” I let up on the handle once maximum emptying was achieved and looked up at him. He doesn't seem as surprised by running water as he was by the electric light, but he at least looks interested in it.

“Oh, and there's toilet paper to uh... ya know...” I make a scooping gesture with my hand like an idiot. He quirked an eyebrow at me in response.

“Wipe your ass! You wipe your ass with it!” I can tell my face is bright red but I plow onward. I have no idea what kind of bathroom habits or etiquette other cultures have, so I'd better cover the basics, just in case. “The paper is flushable, so just toss it in when you're done. However, if you use too much, you'll clog my pipes, and you'll have to plunge your own shit!”

His face hasn't changed expression. So, flustering further under his intense gaze, I turn to the shower. “Um, this is the shower if you want to get cleaned up. Maru and I did our best last night but, like I said earlier, you were pretty caked in dirt...” I open the gaudy old shower curtain to reveal the ancient bathtub and pale yellow tile surround. Gotta love my dear departed Grandmother's design aesthetic.

“To use it, just pull this lever outward towards you,” I explain and demonstrate how to twist the nobs. “Turn it more left for hot water, and right for colder. If you want a bath, just twist this, and it'll plug the drain.” Again, I demonstrate. He's silent but watching intently. It's not rocket science, and Raistlin seems like an intelligent bloke, but I still feel like I need to explain. Even if I feel a bit silly.

“If you want to shower instead,” I point up to the metal shower head above me, “just pull this little dew-hickey here, and it'll close off the water from the spigot, and it'll come out above you. It's kind of a pain in the ass, so you have to pull a little hard...” This, too, I show him, grunting until I can get the plug up enough so that water starts coming out of the shower head. Quickly, I hit the main lever to shut it all off before I got too splashed with water. “Then, of course, to empty the tub, you just undo this to open the drain back up. You don't have to close the drain if you take a shower though.”

“I figured as much,” he says dryly. “But clearly, you are the expert on all things bath-related.”

Great. I have a smart-ass on my hands!

“Well, I'll leave you to it then. That there is body soap, and that bar on the far end is shampoo for your hair.” As if he cares. “You can grab a new washcloth and towel from the cabinet.” I point next to him.

He nods, and I squeeze past him to the door, internally cursing as I realize how boxed-in I made myself in the tiny room. “Oh!” I say, right before I leave. “I should mention that you can take all the time you need, but my water heater is only so big. So if the water suddenly gets cold and you can't get more hot water to come out by adjusting the knobs, then you've used it all up, and it has to reheat. Which will take time.”

“I will not use all of your hot water,” he says in that same low, almost condescending tone. “You need to clean up as well.”

I blink at him. Yet another barb at my knowledge of bathing. Or, did he just underhandedly imply that I smell? I resist the urge to sniff myself.

I scowl back at him. He's had a hard day already and my fist in his teeth won't do him much good, tempting as it is. “Right. I'll be in the kitchen making breakfast if you need me.”

“Your concern is unwarranted. I can manage.”

“Sure.” I eye him shrewdly. His smart tone is really rubbing me the wrong way! “Says the guy who just fell out of the sky, had a full-blown asthma attack, and can barely walk without holding onto the wall. But what do I know?” I roll my eyes. “Oh, and since I'm the expert, make sure to lower the seat and lid back down when you're done,” I instruct, pointing back at the toilet. “It's a pet peeve of mine. Do you know what that is?”

Again, he arches an eyebrow, staring at me down his aquiline nose, and replies, “It means you're irritable.”

Dickhead.

“If I come in here to pee in the middle of the night, sit down only to fall into oblivion and get my ass wet, I swear to Yoba an asthma attack will be the least of your worries!” I hiss petulantly and with that, leave with a glare that he reflects back at me with equal ire.

I stomp into the kitchen and stop when I hear the bathroom door shut with a click. The sound of it seems to echo through the house. Taking a deep breath, I let it out in a rush as I pinch the bridge of my nose.

Sweet, merciful Yoba! It's not even nine in the morning and we've already had our first pissing match!

***
RAISTLIN
***

Raistlin shut the door to the tiny, obnoxiously yellow room and listened, making sure that the woman had indeed gone into the kitchen. Moments later, he heard her rummaging around 'making breakfast'. Though it seemed to him that she was making enough noise to be butchering cattle in there, much less preparing food. There was a lock on the door so he turned it.

He doesn't know why, for she's done nothing but try to help him thus far, but Raistlin can't bring himself to trust the blue-haired woman just yet. In fact, he trusts nothing about his current situation.

And he doesn't like this feeling. Not a wit.

Satisfied that he was finally alone, Raistlin turned to the tasks at hand. He relieves himself and flushes the toilet as instructed, debating for a few moments on how petty he's feeling. But, ultimately, he lowers the lid and seat back down, figuring the woman seemed to be having a hard enough day as it was. Irritate her further and he might find himself without shelter or food, something that, in his current circumstance, Raistlin knew he was lucky to have.

As the toilet flushes and begins to refill, Raistlin's sure that he's never seen a mechanism quite like it. But he's also not overly impressed at the simple function, despite how efficient it is. He glances at what looks to be a permanent wash basin beneath a mirror. It, too, has a small spigot and knobs like the tub, so he turns them to find running water here as well. He washes his hands before glancing into the mirror and seeing his face.

The man staring back at him is a familiar stranger to him. Thin and bony, the long face and sharp, prominent features are not what is so strange, for again, what he sees seems right. Yet, the sense that everything is utterly wrong still nags at him.

Running his fingers over his face, Raistlin studies himself and, for the life of him, cannot place what is missing. His gaze, however, repeatedly returned to his eyes. Bright and blue, they stare back at him, almost mockingly, and they, more so than anything else, are what seems out of place.

Suddenly, the light from the humming, overhead light catches in the tiny, almost invisible filaments woven amongst the blue strands in his irises, making them seem as though they flash gold for a moment. Raistlin gasps and quickly steps away from the mirror, his heart racing in his chest. He stands there for many moments, valiantly trying to calm himself, lest another coughing fit take over. Moments pass, and he manages control once more. Warily, he leans forward to again inspect his eyes. But, try as he might, he cannot recreate the occurrence.

Raistlin can still hear Erowyn in the kitchen. Whatever she's making must be vexing her, for he can hear her muttering to herself. She's an odd one, he decides, and her erratic nature sets him on edge. So much so that he decides to take her advice and indulge in a bath.

Turning to the bathtub, he moves the curtain aside (deducing quite quickly that the strange, crinkly material in his hand acts as a protective barrier to keep the water from spraying all over the room if one uses the 'shower' function) and turns on the water. Letting it heat up a bit, he plugs the drain, frowning as he does at the fact the woman thinks he's a simpleton. Clearly, he's not.

A fact that he finds relieving.

Peeling off the shirt he's finally able to read the faded words: Zuzu University. Neither word holds any meaning or spark of recognition to anything regarding his past, so Raistlin doesn't dwell on it long. Kicking off the pink nightmare-inducing trousers the woman dressed him in, Raistlin (as he did with his face) took a moment to study his body. Like his examination of his face, his body seems like it was supposed to - thin, bony, and not particularly interesting besides the lankiness. But yet, like his face, Raistlin knows that there was once something about him that was now missing.

Frustrated, he sinks into the now almost too-full tub. Quickly, he shuts the water off and gets to work scrubbing his skin, trying not to think about the fact that the woman in the kitchen (as well as her friend) had seen him naked, for that thought makes him uncomfortable. He can't remember much (or rather, nothing) about his past. But Raistlin knows that he's never been comfortable in his skin, and has never liked his body.

His body was always pathetic compared to...

Raistlin started from the sound of the bar of soap slapping against the water next to him when it fell from his numb fingers. Frowning, he stared at where it sank beneath the few bubbles on the water's surface, barely hiding his knobby knees. Brow furrowed, he tried to recall the almost-memory he was sure he nearly experienced. But when nothing came, he shook his head again in frustration and continued to wash himself.

By the time he was finished, Raistlin did indeed feel better. The warmth of the water had eased his sore, fatigued muscles. The lightly fragrant soap was pleasant and refreshing – he detected the invigorating scents of peppermint and eucalyptus – helping to invigorate him. Though he was still bone-tired and just wanted to rest, he didn't feel like he was on the verge of collapse.

Climbing out of the tub and draining it, Raistlin dug a towel out of the small cabinet and dried himself quickly. Looking back at the clothes he had removed, he scowled. He didn't want to put them back on (especially not those gods-forsaken pants!) but since the woman hadn't brought replacements, he had no choice.

Faintly he could smell bacon and fried eggs and felt his stomach give a tiny rumble. Taking a steadying breath, for he didn't know what to expect next, Raistlin exited the room and made his way to the kitchen.

***
FARMER
***

I'm not a great cook, overall. But breakfast? I can make a mean breakfast!

I'm scooping the last of the hash browns from the pan when Raistlin finally emerges from the bathroom. Adding it to the plates, the toast simultaneously pops up, and the sudden sound startles him again.

'Jumpy fellow, this one...'

“Have a seat,” I say, indicating one of the chairs as I set a full plate down for him. “Do you prefer coffee or tea?”

“Uh, tea, please,” he replies quietly and sits down.

Setting the teapot on the stove, I fish around the cupboard for my assortment of teas. Finding the container I keep the packets in, I set it in front of him. “Take your pick. The water will be ready in a minute.”

He eyes the little paper-wrapped packages and selects one: chamomile.

I forgo another cup of coffee (I'm jittery enough!). Instead, I select a package of peppermint tea and rip it open just as the kettle reaches a boil. Filling two mugs, I bring them over and plop the little bag into mine to let it steep.

Raistlin silently follows suit.

I try not to side-eye him as he picks at his food, eating a bit of scrambled eggs and most of his hash browns. I can tell he's hesitant and unsure but trying his best to make the most of his circumstances.

In that, at least, we can find common ground.

Finally, I decided to break the silence. And, apparently, he thinks it's time to as well as the quiet is disturbed by our simultaneous:

“So, uh...”

“I wanted to ask...”

We both clam up and stare at one another across the table for a moment before he clears his throat. “Go ahead,” he says.

“No, ask what you want,” I reply.

He shakes his head. The ends of his long, white hair are wet and have substantially stuck to the front of his t-shirt, causing pools of moisture to spread along the fabric.

Awkward silence stretches on until I finally sigh. “Look,” I say, “this is weird for both of us, I know. But as long as you promise not to hurt me or rape me or burn my house down or do any number of nefarious deeds to me, then you can stay here until you figure things out. Okay?”

His face hardens. “I already told you that I mean you no harm. I may not remember much of anything, but I do know that I'm a man of my word.”

I put my hands up. “Alright, alright, no offense. I just... I don't know you,” I say plainly.

“Nor I, you,” he responds in kind, eyes narrowing.

'Great, he's getting defensive now...'

“Alright,” I sigh. “Look, we got off on the wrong foot, I think. I'm tired and confused, and so are you. I don't mean any harm to you, either. So you can relax a bit and I will try to do the same, okay?”

He nods.

“How about we start over?” I suggest doing my best to lighten my tone. “Instead of the weird circumstance that brought you here, let's just pretend I put an ad in the newspaper and you answered. You're my new roommate who just moved in. I'm Erowyn.” I hold out my hand over our half-eaten breakfasts.

“Raistlin,” he returns quietly and takes my hand.

I give his hand a slight shake before releasing him. “Nice to meet you, Raistlin,” I say with a smile that isn't forced. “Welcome to Solace Farm.”

***

Chapter Text

***
FARMER
***

I always loved to help Grandpa in the garden when I'd spend summers with him. Pulling weeds, digging in the soft dirt with my little trowel, plopping seeds into their holes and covering them. It didn't matter what sort of work I did with him. I loved it all.

The feel of the dirt in my hands, the sound of Grandpa working beside me, the way he'd give the little mounds over the seeds a gentle pat with his big, gnarled hands as gently as if he were tucking me into bed...

By Yoba, I miss him.

The dirt is now hard and dry. I work at it with my hoe, breaking it apart in big chunks that crumble sadly in my hands. The years of neglect have taken its toll on much of the farm, and I often wonder if I'm doing anything to make it better.

But all I can do is try.

Finished with my last row, I stand and stretch my back. The sun is high, and my stomach gnawing at my spine tells me that I've missed lunch. Looking towards the house, I no longer see my strange new guest sitting by the window. I sigh and gather my tools to store them in the little shed by the house.

After the two of us had agreed to live in harmony, our conversation had turned to other things. I attempted to ask questions about where he came from, trying to ascertain what had upset him early this morning to have triggered the asthma attack. Raistlin couldn't answer any of my questions, save for the fact that he knew that wherever he had come from had more than one moon.

He quickly became agitated and irritable, so I decided it was best to not let him dwell on what he didn't know. If his memory was going to return, it would be on its own. Eventually.

We just had to be patient.

The problem was that he didn't seem like the patient type.

As we cleaned up after finishing breakfast, Raistlin insisted on helping me with the dishes (he wouldn't be a freeloader, he had said) and I continued my lame attempt at getting him up to speed on what I assumed were things about modern technology that he didn't know.

I showed him the refrigerator and the food kept inside, letting him know he could help himself if he got hungry. I quickly explained the microwave (something that was completely lost on him) before resorting to explaining how the stove worked – a concept he grasped more easily. I even went so far as to make sure he knew what an outlet was and how it could be dangerous. He had only glared at me, stating he wasn't a simpleton when I made sure he knew not to stick something metal in it.

“Well, it's the last thing I need to come back and find that you've electrocuted yourself!” I had snapped back at him. “So no forks in the outlets. And, for Yoba's sake, don't lick them either!”

This only made him roll his eyes in irritation and mutter something under his breath.

After that, I stormed outside to get the garden hoed. The physical exertion had helped to burn off my own irritation. I couldn't figure out what it was about that man... But he got under my skin!

Sighing again, I shut the shed door and put the cinder block back in front of it to keep the warped wood shut. I knew his attitude wasn't his fault. Or, at least, part of it wasn't, for I was sure he had an attitude to begin with! The stress of everything that was happening was only heightening it.

I tried to remind myself of his predicament. After all, I was just as on edge and confused by this whole situation as he was. And because of it, I barely had control of my own temper and smart mouth.

My simple life had been turned upside down in a matter of hours. And I knew I was a bit resentful because of it.

I walked up the front steps and onto the porch to find Trixy lazily soaking up the sun, a dead mouse not far away. “If there's a freeloader around here, it's you !” I say and give her an affectionate scratch behind the ear. “Are you going to eat that, or do I have to add it to the graveyard with the rest of them?”

Trixy only merped at me and rolled over. With a grimace, I picked up the dead mouse by the tail and threw it as far as I could toward the treeline. Thinking it was a game, the calico cat dashed after it. “Gross,” I groaned and opened the door with my unsoiled hand.

Quietly as I could, I pulled my dirty work boots off and went to wash my hands in the sink, peering into the living room as I did. No sign of Raistlin. Tiptoeing into the living room, I see that my bedroom door is shut again.

Hoping that he's resting, I go and take a fast shower and change into the clean clothes I had taken out of my room earlier. The shower was pretty much just a fast rinse to get the dirt and sweat off and I didn't bother with my hair, for I didn't have time to wait for it to dry. So I decided to keep it up in a messy bun. Besides, I'm going to be getting dirty in a few hours again anyway after I plant the seeds and finish the garden.

Glancing at the clock on the wall, it was almost 2:00.

Good, I had a few hours to go buy seeds at Pierre's General Store as well as run a few more errands in town.

Hurrying through the house without making noise was tricky with old floorboards, but I was as quiet as I could be. Plopping pain reliever into my mouth, for my body just then decided to remind me of the time of the month by assaulting me with fresh cramps, I hastily shoved a bagel behind the pills and washed everything down with a glass of water before putting my boots back on and grabbing my bag.

Before leaving, I glance again at my closed door. I had told Raistlin my plans for the day, that after working outside I'd be going into town to buy some things. I wouldn't be gone long, but I can't help but feel a little anxious about leaving him alone.

What if he had another asthma attack? What if he tried to use the stove and burnt the house down? What if bandits stormed the house and took him captive? What if people from his past arrived and dragged him off? What if he's really an ax murderer on the run and I'll come home to find chopped-up bodies in my cellar?!

I scoffed at the last couple of thoughts, knowing my tired mind was just being paranoid. Still, I was worried more than fearful, so I decided to scribble a hasty note and leave it on the table with an apple before I walked out.

***
RAISTLIN
***

Raistlin had spent a good amount of time sitting by the living room window watching his new 'roommate' as she worked at the hard soil in front of the house, loosening it in an attempt to get it ready for planting.

He didn't know what to make of her. Odd, for one thing. Defensive, for another.

Sighing, he pulled the quilt tighter around his shoulders. Her peevish attitude wasn't her fault, he decided. It was clear to Raistlin that she had a particular way of living and was set in her ways, comfortable with being alone. He had upset her existence and though he could tell she was trying not to, she was a bit put off by the sudden change in her life.

She was pretty enough, he supposed. She had a pleasant face. When she wasn't scowling back at him, that is. Eyes the color of lilacs, a shade he thought peculiar, though not as peculiar as her blue hair, were clear and intense. But then he remembered the way she had stared off in silence...

Yes, her eyes may be a shade he was unused to, but, overall, they were sad eyes.

Perhaps that largely contributed to her feisty demeanor. She seemed the type who used to be walked all over by others but had finally learned to stand up for herself. Though, like the unpacked boxes around the house, she hadn't quite figured out what to do with this new way of living.

So, her freedom and way of life were new. And had probably come at a cost...

Curiouser and curiouser.

Looking around the room again, he took note of the few things that she did unpack. Blankets and pillows were on the sofa. Like the one around his shoulder, they were well-used and probably held some significance to her. A small bookcase near his chair was filled with books. Peering closer, he read the spines: 'In the Heat of the Night', 'Muscles of Iron', and 'A Pirates Booty', were among the titles. Curious, he pulled one out, but the scantily clad couple on the cover quickly caused him to shove it back.

He then spied another book on an end table nearby- 'A Voyage Deep into her Seas' had a bookmark halfway through it. Rolling his eyes, Raistlin fought down a blush at realizing the kind of books the woman seemed to enjoy. Perhaps if she spent less of her free time reading ridiculous smut, she'd have more of it to unpack and get her life together!

'Oh, well,' he thought. He wasn't going to solve her life's problems for her.

However, Raistlin had told her that he would do what he could around the house to help out. Not today, certainly, for he was leery of aggravating his lungs and still tired from everything that had happened thus far. But once he regained his strength, he'd do what he could to not be a burden.

He'd start by instructing her on the proper placement of rows. He frowned at her as she worked, for her garden rows were uneven, the spacing haphazard and poorly planned. Was she taking into account the total time certain plants would be in the sun? Did she even think about drainage or the slope of the ground? He didn't know what she planned to plant, but whatever it was, he doubted the seeds would fare very well.

After a time, he grew bored with watching her. Bored and irritated as she made more and more of a mess of her rows. They looked to be plowed by a drunken gully dwarf...

Raistlin blinked. “What is a gully dwarf?” he asked himself. And, for that matter, why was it used as an insult?

Scowling, he rubbed his eyes. He supposed he should try to get some rest and wait until the woman returned for the day. She had said she'd be going into town and wouldn't be back until after dinner.

Wearily, he got up and shuffled his way to the bedroom, the quilt still around his shoulders. As he moved, he eyed the various boxes piled along the walls, and the items still covered by sheets at the corners of the room. She must not have lived here long, he figured.

So she's new to this area, having taken the farm over from her grandfather. “Solace Farm,” Raistlin said softly as he entered the bedroom and shut the door.

Gods, he wished he could remember why that place meant something to him.

Hours later, Raistlin was stirred awake by the sound of water running in the bathroom adjacent to the bedroom. It wasn't a very long shower, for just as soon as the water shook through the old pipes in the walls did it shut off again. A moment later, he heard the woman in the kitchen.

Erowyn didn't linger long, for soon Raistlin heard the front door shut and, sitting up in bed, briefly glimpsed the top of her blue hair over the hedge as she walked towards town.

Figuring he might as well get up and explore more of his new surroundings unhindered, Raistlin left the bedroom. Of course, the first thing he noted was the apple on the center of the little kitchen table. Drawing closer, he saw the note underneath.

It read:

'Raistlin, I'm heading into town. I hope to be back quickly. Help yourself to any food you'd like. Sorry about being a bitch this morning. I'll try to do better.

Thanks, Erowyn.

P.S. Trixy (my cat) likes to bring dead mice and shrews inside. Please don't be too upset if you find one somewhere. Her food is in the container under the sink in case she comes in demanding to be fed. Just give her one small scoop. Thanks again.”

Raistlin put the note down and shook his head. She wrote more about the cat than anything else. As he stared at the note, he was surprised by the graceful, almost delicate slopes of her handwriting. It was in sharp contrast to what he'd seen of her thus far and spoke of a well-educated, refined person.

Curious indeed. Perhaps there was more to her than he had given her credit for.

Taking a bite of the apple, he went out onto the porch to enjoy the warm sunshine and have a look around Solace Farm. He didn't plan on going far, for he didn't want to push himself too much, but he wanted to get a better look at the sky and the trees.

Perhaps, he'd search the nearby woods for the spot in which he had been found...

***

Chapter Text

***
FARMER
***

I made my way along the half-mile road into Pelican town, enjoying the sun on my face and doing my best not to work myself into a tizzy over the man I've left alone back on my farm. Soon, I pass by the path that leads to the bus stop and pause for a moment, thinking about how, only a few months ago, I had stepped off a bus from Zuzu City to start a new life here in the Valley.

Not many buses come through these days, and the only vehicle in Pelican Town is the broken-down bus belonging to Pam that sits on the side of the road, waiting to be repaired. My eyes are drawn past the dilapidated hunk of metal to the trail behind it that extends up the hill. Somewhere in that overgrown mess of shrubs and grass, is the platform for the tram to Ridgeside Village. It, too, waits to be repaired.

Looking up into the bright, northwestern sky, I can see the tall metal poles and cables leading up the side of the mountain. Farther yet in the distance, I can barely make out the village perched on a steep cliff face overlooking the Valley.

Visiting Ridgeside Village had been one of the first things to check off my list when I arrived, for I still have faint memories of riding the cable car with Grandfather. I can still make out the kind faces of people who would greet me and give me sweets. I would have liked to see those faces again and find out if they remembered me. But, like so many things, it just wasn't meant to be.

Maybe someday.

So many somedays...

With a sigh, I adjust the backpack a bit so that the straps don't dig so bad into my shoulders before continuing on my way. Daylight is burning, and I need to buy my seeds and get home ASAP. And if I manage to get everything planted before I drop from exhaustion, it'll be a miracle!

I shake my head at the mental image of myself lying face down in the dirt of my garden. Sad to say, it happened many times this spring because I had yet to learn my limits...

Soon, the trail gives way to cobblestone, and the trees thin to reveal Pelican Town's quaint village square. The town, though small, is bustling with life today. On the first day of summer, it seems as though everyone is out and about, enjoying the change in temperature and getting ready for the season ahead.

I pass by old Evelyn, the sweet elderly lady who loves to send me cookies, and I say hello as she tends one of the town's many flowerbeds. She glances in my direction. Her eyes are so hidden within folds of skin that I always wonder if she can even see. But she smiles her adorable wrinkled smile and returns my hello.

I spy Shane on his way across town to the local Jojo Mart. Even though it's warm, he's hunkered down in his hoodie, his eyes hidden behind dark sunglasses. The scowl on his face and the dark shadow of unshaven facial hair is a dead giveaway he's probably hung over. Then again, he always looks like that!

Standing in the center of the town square are Olivia, Jodi, and Caroline - the three biggest gossips in the Valley.

Olivia lives in the largest house in town, and every day, she wears her cocktail dress and pearls like a second skin. Thus, she sticks out like a sore thumb. Having earned a ton of money playing the stock market, she and her son Victor moved to Pelican Town only a few years ago to enjoy the 'simple life'. She's nice enough and tries her best to fit in here. But I can tell that her deeply ingrained city-loving lifestyle is something she struggles to let go of. To combat this she keeps herself busy by learning all the goings on in Pelican Town.

Jodi, by contrast, is the wife of a military man named Kent who is away serving in the war with the Gotoro Empire far across the southern ocean. Unlike the dolled-up Olivia with her glitzy dress, quaffed hair, and pearls, Jodi is as plain and ordinary as any woman living and raising kids in a small town could possibly be. With her dark capri jeans and long-sleeved shirt combo (the likes of which can only be described as the height of mom fashion), she finishes off the look with her hair braided in a long plait that constantly hangs over her shoulder.

She spies me walking past and smiles but doesn't draw attention to me as if afraid to interrupt the other women's conversation. Soft-spoken and the meekest of the three, she has a heart of gold. But I can see in her eyes her hunger for more - more than what this small town can offer her and a haunting regret of a life that could have been. Perhaps that is why she is drawn to the outgoing Olivia.

Rounding out the trio is Caroline, the wife of Pierre, the man who owns the General Store which I am focused on getting to as quickly as possible. Like Jodi, she is a mother. But unlike Jodi, her daughter is full-grown. Because of this, I like to think that she has graduated from that perpetual look of weariness and matching mom clothes. Now, she sports a cute button-top-with-skirt combo that contrasts nicely with her unusual, bright green hair. She and Olivia don't notice me as the air is suddenly filled with the sound of their laughter as they exchange some story or another.

I wouldn't know what they're discussing. And, frankly, I don't really care as I finally reach Pierre's General Store and enter to the sound of the jingling bell that drowns out the women's laughter.

“Hello!” Pierre greets from behind the counter. He looks up and spies me through his glasses, which he proceeds to push up his nose. “Greetings, Farmer! I have a fresh shipment of seeds ready. Just arrived this morning!”

“You read my mind,” I grumble to myself without much enthusiasm. Like everyone in town, Pierre is nice and cordial to me. But unlike everyone else in town, he is also my competition if I ever manage to grow enough vegetables to start selling for profit. “I'll be right there. I just have to get a few other things first!” I call to him before entering one of the side aisles.

As fate would have it, I nearly plow into the prettiest man that I have ever laid eyes on! And that's saying something. I was married to Donovan, after all...

“Oh, Elliot! I'm so sorry!” I stammer as we both right ourselves.

“Ah, 'tis my fault, fairest Farmer,” he replies with a smirk as he tugs on the cuffs of his red blazer to straighten the sleeves. “My mind was preoccupied elsewhere as I perused the array of toothpaste before me, caught up in the fantasy of flavors and textures as vast as the sea in a storm.”

I blink at him. Leave it to Elliot to compare toothpaste to the ocean and make it sound like a mystical adventure! I open my mouth to say something, but I can see that his eyes have already glazed over as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small notepad.

As he bends forward to begin scribbling out whatever his muse is whispering into his mind, his long, soft brown hair spills over his shoulder like a wave upon the shore. The sunlight through the window plays on the strands and catches in the emerald shade of his eyes while he dreamily looks away at nothing as he attempts to catch his wayward thoughts.

His hair looks so goddamn soft...

Dammit, Elliot! I scowl at him, flustered that his stupid toothpaste analogy had an effect on my wayward imagination. I turn on my heel, suddenly annoyed without meaning to be. Here's a man who could easily grace the cover of any one of my cheesy romance novels, a man that anyone would probably strip naked for after two stanzas of some flowery prose from his honeyed lips, yet he's so oblivious to reality itself that it's impossible to carry on any conversation with the man!

Returning to the task at hand, I quickly pick out a tube of toothpaste and a new toothbrush before finding some men's deodorant, shaving cream, and a package of razors. I don't know what sort of scents or flavors Raistlin might like. But knowing that he's asthmatic, I decide to keep everything as plain and scentless as possible.

Leaving the aisle with the muttering Adonis behind me, I round the corner only to nearly run into Pierre and Caroline's daughter Abigail!

“Farmer!” she exclaims, catching the box in her hands before it nearly falls from where she had it perched while unloading it. “You scared the hell out of me!”

“Likewise!” I respond, but the two of us are grinning at one another, for I know how the adventure-seeking young woman loves a good scare! “What are you doing in here today? It's beautiful outside! Shouldn't you be practicing your sword skills or hunting slimes in the mines?” I ask, knowing her usual routine.

“Not 'til later,” she replies, her face falling. “I promised to help Dad stock the shelves with the new inventory that came in this morning. This is the last box though. After that, I'm home free!”

“I won't keep you then,” I say with another smile and step around her to the selection of men's socks and underwear, wondering what the hell size I need to buy. I pull a package off the peg to check measurements, doing quick calculations in my head.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Abigail suddenly asks, drawing my attention away from the orderly packages hanging in front of me. “I saw Dr. Harvey rush towards your farm this morning! I was worried something had happened out there!”

“I'm fine,” I say, silently cursing. I knew I wouldn't be able to keep Raistlin's presence a secret for long, but I had hoped that my first conversation in town wouldn't have to involve him! Though to be fair, I am clearly shopping for men's items! I could slap my forehead at how stupid I am.

And here I call out Elliot for being oblivious!

“Ah, okay. I'm glad,” she replies, and, as I feared, her eyes are drawn to the items I've thrown into my basket and to the package of men's boxers held in my hand. “Didn't take you for a boxer kind of girl,” she says, then adds with a shrug, “But then again, who am I to judge fashion!” She laughs and tosses her purple hair over her shoulder. It's true. Abigail's look is far from traditional with her outfit that is somewhere between gothic punk rock and adventuring gear.

“It's for my friend,” I hastily explain, knowing I'd have to tell this lie over and over again. “He arrived late last night. He had an asthma attack this morning, but the airline lost his luggage, thus why Harvey had to make an emergency visit and why I need to pick up a few essentials for him until we can track down his things...”

“Oh, I'm sorry to hear that,” she replies. “Is he okay?”

“Yeah, he's going to be fine,” I say. “Gave me one hell of a scare though. I've never seen him like that.” This lie was true enough! I knew nothing about the man on my farm, so maybe all these fibs weren't going to be so hard to keep track of!

“Well, if you need anything, let me know. I bet I can ask Sam or Sebastian if they have extra clothes if he needs anything ASAP.” She eyes the package of small boxers and nods her head at them. “If he's that skinny, I know Sebastian has something that would probably fit!”

“And how would you know that?” I ask, arching an eyebrow at her and glad to have a way out of this awkward conversation and all too eager to turn the attention off my predicament.

She flushes brightly at this. “Ah, well, we used to date,” she says hastily and returns to stocking the shelves. “Anyway, good seeing you, Farmer! Let me know if you need anything!”

I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling at her discomfort. This town, though small, certainly has its juicy, interesting little underbelly of tightly-interconnected secrets! I'd bet my big toe that the fact Abigail knows exactly what size pants Sebastian wears was just the tip of the iceberg!

After making a final selection of socks and underwear, I finally approached the front of the store and set my bag on the counter. I can't help but eye the red bag sitting nearby and internally groan at the price tag displayed. I desperately need more bag space, especially when I visit the mines or go foraging out in the forest. However, that luxury will have to wait until I can save enough gold.

“What do you have in mind to plant this season?” Pierre asks as he brings up the seed catalog and opens it to his summer variety.

I eye the pages before me with their colorful images of fat, juicy produce the likes of which haunt my ever-aspiring dreams. “I think I'd like to try some tomatoes and radishes for sure,” I say, eyeing the prices and adding them up in my head. “How much are the melon seeds?”

Pierre turns the page, and my stomach drops out. They're the same as the blueberries at eighty gold a seed. The peppers aren't as bad though. And the wheat is the cheapest. “A hundred-fifty for corn!” I exclaim, shocked.

He shrugs. “They grow for multiple seasons,” he replies. “And continue to produce weekly. It's a good investment.”

I know he's right, of course. Plus, I can easily replant any leftover corn I dry out for next year. But I also know that tomatoes and blueberries will also yield multiple crops all season. Hopefully, they'll do well, dispute their higher needs and difficulty keeping alive.

Hopefully, I'm up for the challenge!

Sighing heavily, I have Pierre add the items in my basket first. Then, listing off the packages of seeds I decide on, I try not to blanch at the grand total. I have some gold at the bottom of my bag, so I count that out first, completely draining it before handing over my card. Cringing, I frown at the thought of filling my already almost maxed-out credit card. But there's no help for it.

Luckily, there's enough money left on it, so it all goes through. Pierre hands back the card with a chipper: “Thanks for stopping!”

I offer him a half-hearted smile before shoving my purchases into my backpack and exiting the store. The little jingle above it chimes as if celebrating the complete loss of the last of my funds. Turning, I glower at it before heading on my way.

The three women in the town square have left, so I decide to head south to the beach to see if I can forage any shells or coral before cutting through the forest and back home. It's out of the way. But, let's face it, I'm dead ass broke now!

At first, I didn't find much washed up on the beach, just a few clams. But as I make my way south and west (heading in the opposite direction of Elliot's little cabin) my luck makes a complete one-eighty when I find a rainbow shell glittering in the sand! Reverently, pick it up and dust the grains off. Tears sting my eyes, and I blink them back as I carefully place it in my bag to sell. It won't bring in anything close to what I spent today, but it's a start.

Getting to my feet, I spy the local fisherman, Willy, out on his dock, casting his line into the salty water. I smile to myself as I watch him, so content with his simple way of life. He's a good man. A bit odd, to be sure, but I figure that life out at sea would make one lose a few marbles! Just then, he glances up and sees me. He waves, so I return the gesture.

His line suddenly goes taut, and he's forced to grab hold of it with both arms as he begins to struggle. Seeing his battle, I rush to help, sending sand spraying behind me as I run across the beach.

“It's a big one!” he cries as I join him. Wrapping my arms around his frame, I help heave him backward as he reels in his catch. “Gosh darn it!” he cries as a mass hits the deck beside us. “Disgusting land lubbers...” he glowers. I lean down with him to examine the lumpy mass only to see a congealed blob of newspaper, Joja Cola cans, and other garbage all held together by clumps of seaweed.

“It's getting worse and worse these days,” he shakes his head sadly and adjusts the pipe in his mouth. Somehow, he had managed to keep it between his teeth during his struggle. “'E're since that dang store moved into town, the trash in the water is gettin' worse an' worse!”

“I'm sorry, Willy,” I reply.

He waves my words away with a friendly hand as he scoops up his 'catch' and throws it into a bin beside his little fish shop built on the dock next to us. “Better I catch it than some poor creature eat that mess,” he says, brushing off his hands. He turns to me then and smiles. Smoke from his pipe drifts out from the corners of his mouth. “Say, how's yer fishing going, Farmer? Makin' any headway?”

Ashamed, I shake my head. “No, sorry. I've been too busy to practice much with the rod you gave me.” It was true. Last spring, I barely had time to do anything besides tend the farm.

My guilt over not using his gift to me must have been plain on my face as he only offered another kindly smile and said: “'Tis no worry. You have lots to do on that old farm of yer Pappies. Soon, you'll have it all in order. Then, you can focus on other things. Just come to me if ya need any tips!”

“I sure will, Willy,” I say, returning his smile. He's such a sweet old man. A friend of my deceased grandparents, he smells of brine and fish, but also of his pipe tobacco, leather, and sea air. It's not an offensive combination, far from it, for it brings back memories from my childhood and days spent by the water...

My heart flutters at the reminder, and I love Willy for it. “Well, I'd best get going. Have a good day!” I say instead of expressing my thoughts.

He nods and watches me leave. As I return to the sandy beach and make my way to the trail leading back up into the forest to the west, I glance behind me to see his attention turn back to his morning 'catch'. He shakes his head sadly again. A lump fills my throat at the thought of how far the corrupt mega-corporation Joja Mart's influence has reached. A stain on the environment, the world is worse off for it, and even though I know that people will often take advantage of its lower prices and convenience,

I can't help but wonder at the cost...

***

Chapter Text

***
RAISTLIN
***

The sun was relentless as Raistlin stood on the porch surveying the area around the farmhouse. The yard before him had seen better days, that was plainly obvious. From the overgrown brush encroaching on the edges of the yard to the half-chopped fallen trees scattered about to the nearby broken building made of glass, its shattered panes sparkling in the heat, to the sorry face of the house itself and the ominous creak of the boards beneath his feet – the farmer was in way over her head.

Say nothing of the sorry rows of her tilled garden... If she managed to keep anything alive through the season, it would be a miracle.

Raistlin spun the apple in his hand – a slender white hand with fine bones and long fingers. His brow furrowed as he tried to recall what it was these hands were even good at...

For he was good at something, he just couldn't remember what!

He took another bite of the apple – crisp and juicy with a note of sour tartness as he swallowed it down. Pushing aside the idle question of whether or not he had ever tasted an apple like that before, he shook his head and took another bite. Thoughts like that were too disturbing. They felt like picking at a bruise too deep to touch just yet.

And he had so many disturbing thoughts... Thoughts and questions.

Why was he here? Where did he come from? How did he get here? Why couldn't he remember? Who was he?

Oh, sure, he may recall his name well enough, but he didn't know what it meant. One thing he was certain of was that he did not come from this place. This world with its singular small, yellow moon. Lastly, he knew, like an itch in the back of his mind, that something was missing. Not something visible, for he was as physically normal as he could recall. No, whatever he lacked was internal, as a part of him as his arms or legs or beating heart.

And without it, he felt... hollow.

Finished with the apple, Raistlin ate all but the stem and seeds which he flicked to the ground as he left the porch, his bare feet hitting soft soil.

Like the sky above him, even the ground felt... different. Vibrant and full of life, certainly, but this life pulsed with a rhythm that felt wholly different than wherever it was he hailed from. He looked to the sky again, scanning once more in vain for the barest echo of power he knew should be there...

Raistlin sighed then, for again nothing answered.

Too many questions. Too many thoughts.

The cat that the farmer's note mentioned sauntered around the edge of the house just then, her calico gray tail hooked above her proud back. In her teeth, she held a dead shrew. She hopped up on the porch and looked back at him expectantly.

“Well, far be it from me to disrupt the routine around here,” Raistlin said and returned to the door, letting the cat and her dead treasure inside. “Make sure to put it in one of her shoes,” he said.

Raistlin smiled to himself when the cat turned back to him, the look in those green eyes as if to say that had been the plan all along.

***
FARMER
***

I leave the beach and make my way along the trail, following it up the cliffside, my thighs burning as I ascend. The path is well-worn and familiar to me, though not as familiar as most around town. Grandpa and I didn't go this way much. Instead, we'd cut through town where he'd buy me ice cream which would be nothing but a sticky, melted mess by the time we made it to the sandy beach...

Blinking back the haze clouding my vision, I look up and find myself passing Blue Moon Vineyard, its rows of perfectly pruned grapes shining like clusters of amethyst on the vine. Vaguely, I recall this place from my childhood memories – of a friendly couple and their baby girl several years younger than I.

I pause when I realize that it is now only the daughter.

Had only been her since I'd moved back...

As if summoned by my thoughts, I spy a pink-haired head moving through the orderly rows of growing grapes. Before I can announce my presence, she turns from her tending, a small basket of excess clippings in her hand and finds me gawking. Startled, she drops the basket with a gasp and darts behind the nearest bundle of foliage.

“It's okay, Sophia!” I say hurriedly, stepping farther into the row so she can fully see me.

“O-oh, Farmer. It's just you?” a meek voice says from where she stands, trembling like a leaf.

“Yes, it's just me,” I say gently as if speaking to a spooked fawn.

After a breath, she takes a step out from behind her veil of leafy protection. “S-sorry. I get startled easily.”

“Don't be sorry,” I say with a smile. “I shouldn't stand here and gawk at your beautiful farm without first saying hello.” She offers a tiny smile at that, yet I can't help but note the unease still in her eyes as she decides something.

“Um. Hey,” she says softly, fidgeting a bit, “you're kinda new to farming so... I'd like to give you something.” Hurriedly, she turns and motions for me to follow.

Leading me to the side of the large house, we stop in front of a storage box. Reaching inside, Sophia fishes around for a moment before pulling out something metal and holding it out to me. “Here!” She beams, all traces of her earlier hesitation gone. “It's a sprinkler!” she exclaims to my shocked expression. “It'll automatically water adjacent crops once every day.”

“Th-thank you!” I breathe as she hands the little device over, my gaze rising to meet hers only to note that her lilac-colored eyes display a warmer color to the bluer tones within my lavender. “Thank you,” I say again, pinned by that soft, sad stare.

“No problem,” she says and I can't help but note the subtle flush of pink on her cheeks. It complements the pink in her hair and eyes... “Um,” she adds, still hesitant. “I have an order ledger in my cosplay room. If you need more, you can purchase them from me.”

“Cosplay?” I blink.

“Yeah,” she chuckles a bit. “I like to make costumes of my favorite movie and comic book characters...” That blush deepens. “I know it's stupid. But I have fun doing it...”

 “It's not stupid!” I say and mean it. “In high school, I once dressed up and stood in line for ten hours to see the opening of a film adaptation of my favorite book!”

She gasped, those lilac eyes alight. “What movie?!”

I grin and proceed to confess my hopeless love of fantasy and sci-fi. Sophia grins at me and asks me more about my sorry excuse for a costume before offering to show me some of the items she's currently working on.

“I'd love to, Sophia, really I would,” I say reluctantly. “But I have to get back to the farm and get my seeds planted before I lose any more daylight.” And check on the stranger that fell from the sky, I think but leave that part silent.

“Oh! Right. Sorry.” She blushes again. “It's just that I didn't know anyone around here who also enjoyed the same genres as me.”

“Same.” I offer her another smile as an apology. “Maybe next time?”

Sophia nods. “Alright. Next time.”

I adjust my backpack once more before returning to the trail, offering one last wave to Sophia before making my way back home. I smile to myself as I enter the southernmost reaches of Cindersap forest, the glow of the sun warm on my skin.

Though, maybe that glow is less about the warm sun than it is from knowing that I found someone to nerd out with here in this tiny Podunk town. Or maybe it's the sheer gesture of kindness in the form of a sprinkler that will make my work that much easier is why my steps are suddenly lighter. Then again, perhaps it's the call of the seeds in my bag, begging to be planted, the thrill of getting another chance this season, and the hope it will be better than the last one.

Regardless, I make a mental note to take this way more often.

***
RAISTLIN
***

Raistlin hadn't realized just how far he had wandered into the forest until he heard his name being called – faint and tiny. Either that or the press of trees around him was effectively buffering the sound, making it seem as though he were miles away.

It hadn't taken him long to explore the yard around the house and, soon enough, he had found himself near the edge of an overgrown trail stretching into darkness. By the broken undergrowth and marks in the soil, he had rightly guessed that it was this direction from which the women had dragged him.

Even though he had no shoes, or, for that matter, clothes suitable for wandering around in the woods, Raistlin's curiosity had gotten the better of him. And now, here he stood in the middle of a dark forest, torn between seeing the spot where he had been found and the panic he heard in the voice calling his name.

He scowled at the sound as she called again. Raistlin didn't know this woman, didn't really care that his absence was distressing to her. However, he owed her for the kindness of allowing him to stay in her house, sleep in her bed, eat her food, and receive medical care – at least until he knew where he came from and how to get back. The first place to find such answers would be where he was found. He was sure of it.

Raistlin glanced around again before looking up at the canopy in search of the trajectory his supposed landing took through the treetops. There should be evidence, he told himself. But he had been wandering through the underbrush, snagging these god-awful pants on every branch and stepping on every exposed root, for several minutes without any success.

“RAISTLIN!?” the farmer called again, her voice louder now. She must have guessed he'd venture this way. Perhaps, if he hid, she'd reveal the way to where he'd been found.

However, just as Raistlin was about to tuck behind a nearby tree, he felt the annoying ticking in the back of his throat. The air beneath these dark trees was stifling from the rising heat of the day, thick and filled with the dank smells of damp undergrowth and wet dirt. Raistlin went to clear his throat but found the effort doing the opposite as his throat closed up and he began to cough. He tried in vain to smother it with his hand but now it appeared as though every sound in the forest amplified it, carrying his hacking loud and clear to the one person he wished to hide from.

“Raistlin!” The woman burst through a clump of nearby trees, those unusual purple eyes widening when she spied him against the tree, struggling to breathe. She raced over, hands outstretched as if to offer aid. “Are you okay?!”

“I'm fine!” Raistlin snarled at her, his voice strangled. He coughed again and managed to clear his throat enough to take a half-decent breath.

“You don't sound fine,” Erowyn said, voice laced with worry. Stray hairs had come free of the bun gathered on the top of her head. The blue strands stuck to her face and neck against her too-hot skin that was red from standing in the sun. She went to touch him and Raistlin recoiled with such a menacing glare that she backed away.

“Stop fussing, Caramon! I'm fine!” he growled.

Both of them blinked at one another.

Raistlin pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead, suddenly feeling lightheaded and warm.

Sensing that he probably hadn't been drinking while out in this heat, Erowyn quickly took the bag off her back, her shoulders marked with a fat white line edged with a sunburn where the straps had been. Shoved in a side pocket, she quickly located her water canteen. Unscrewing the top, she handed it to Raistlin who drank greedily.

“Who..? Who is Caramon?” she asked, warily watching him quickly consume the canteen's contents.

“I-” Raistlin blinked again, his voice stronger now. His brows furrowed as he tried to remember and Erowyn's concern only deepened when he said, “I don't know.”

***

Chapter Text

***
FARMER
***

Raistlin and I made our way back to the house, silence hanging heavy between us.

“Watch out for this root,” I say, if only to break the silence, pointing to a partially exposed gnarl of wood poking out from a clump of leaves. Raistlin merely responds with a noncommittal grunt before sidestepping the aforementioned obstacle.

'Shit...' I think as I notice his dirty, bare feet, 'I forgot to get him shoes.' One more item to add to the list of essentials he needed.

Reaching the edge of the forest, I turn to say something else, only to find him leaning against a tree, sweat pouring down his face, his chest heaving as his lungs threaten to leap from his throat.

“Are you going to be okay?” I ask as I approach him.

His glare stops me in my tracks. “I'm fine,” he rasps, the sound at odds with his declaration. “I just need to rest.”

The canteen I offered him earlier now sits empty in my pack. Eyeing the house yet some distance away, I suggest, “I can run get you some ice water. It'll help cool you off...” My offer trails off as he shakes his head.

“I can manage.”

Raistlin took one step before his knees buckled. If I wasn't close enough to catch him, he would have pitched over into a patch of poison ivy!

“I'd call you a rotten liar,” I hissed as I ease him to the ground (safely away from the itch-inducing weed), “but I don't know what your baseline of lying is!”

Raistlin manages to scoff as he leans back against a tree, his eyes pinched closed as his breath continues to wheeze through his throat.

“Do I need to call Dr. Harvey?”

Again he shakes his head. “Get the water, if you must,” he finally says.

The words are barely out of his mouth before I'm already sprinting through the rough expanse of sparsely cleared lawn, past the little pond with no fish, and around the shattered greenhouse. Reaching the house, I forgo the steps, instead leaping onto the porch from the side, throwing my pack from my shoulders as I do – sans canteen.

The screen door slammed as I dashed into the kitchen towards the sink. Throwing open the cold spigot, I fish out a few ice cubes from the freezer and drop them into the canteen before thrusting it underneath the spray of hissing water. The sound of tumbling ice sang an agitated chorus as the container filled. Twisting the canteen's lid shut, I grab the embroidered hand towel hanging from the front of the stove and give it a quick soak under the tap, not even bothering to wring it out before dashing back out the door, nearly tripping over Trixy in my hast. The calico manages an indignant screech as I plow past her.

“Sorry!” I yelled, already rounding the greenhouse on my way back to my destination.

“Please don't be dead. Please don't be dead,” I pant as I put the house behind me and near the tree line. Dread twisted my insides at the thought of finding Raistlin in another horrible asthma attack. I should have called Harvey! My cell phone is heavy inside the back pocket of my denim overalls, taunting me.

No time for that now!

I can see Raistlin's white hair from here. He's still sitting in the shade next to the tree where I left him, his head slightly bowed between his knees. “Raistlin?!” I can't help but cry out as I drop to my knees and skid the last few feet, sending dirt and leaves scattering in my wake.

“Stop shouting,” he grumbles and raises his head.

I can't help but breathe a sigh of relief. His breathing has calmed some even though he still looks overheated.

“Here,” I say and thrust the cold canteen at him. Wordlessly, he takes it and starts drinking, cold water running from the edges of his mouth as he sucks it down. “I brought a towel soaked in water, it'll help cool you off.” Without waiting for a prompt, I drop the sodden fabric over his shoulders.

A cry I didn't think he could make erupted from Raistlin's throat. “NGGGHHAAA!!!!” Cold water splashed across his chest and neck as he instinctively twisted away in reaction to the seemingly colder towel soaking his shoulders.

“Gods in the Abyss!” he growled. Grabbing the towel, he threw it back at me. “Are you trying to drown me?!”

“No!” I shot back. “I'm trying to help you!”

“Some help you are,” he groaned as he wiped his hand over his now-drenched face. He coughed for a moment to clear his throat. “I'm just dehydrated! I didn't need an ice bath!”

I watch, incredulous, as he all but shivered in the shade during the hottest part of a summer's afternoon. “Well ex-CUUUSSE ME!” I shout back. “Only a minute ago, you were heat-stroking out on me! Or worse – having another asthma attack!”

“I told you I was fine,” he growled and (unsteadily) got to his feet. “A bit of rest and water was sufficient enough to-”

I also scramble to my feet, utterly pissed now. “Fine!” I yell before Raistlin can finish his sentence. Throwing the soggy towel back at him, I stormed away. “See if I care the next time you start dying in the woods!”

***
RAISTLIN
***

Raistlin peeled the waterlogged towel off his face and watched as his would-be rescuer flounced away, her anger-filled face nearly as red as her sunburnt shoulders, the words, “Ungrateful asshole!” following in her wake.

He bit back an equally barbed retort knowing that irritating his only source of food and shelter was not in his favor. “So much for starting over,” he mumbled. Again Raistlin wished he could remember where he came from and how to get back, for he knew that if this kept up, one of them was likely to strangle the other.

Reluctantly, Raistlin followed Erowyn back to the house, needing only the sound of her muttered tirade to guide his way. Halfway there, he decided that the wet towel was more beneficial than he cared to admit. After wringing out the excess water, he draped it over his head to keep the beating heat of the sun off his head, thus preventing the heat from exacerbating his fragile state.

Rounding the ruins of the strange glass structure, Raistlin saw Erowyn enter the house. Following, he paused in the doorway to allow his eyes to adjust to the change in light. She stood near the sink, her back to him, noisily chugging down a glass of water. Pulling the towel from his head and shoulders, Raistlin hung it back in its place on the handle of the stove, spreading out the fabric along its length so it dried quicker.

He cleared his throat. “I-”

“I need to get the seeds in the ground,” Erowyn cut him off. Shifting away from him, she went to the other room. After a moment of rustling around she returned with a large, narrow box that contained what looked to be some kind of propeller suspended within its cage.

“Here's a fan,” she said and, after tugging open the apparently stuck kitchen window near the table, propped it open with the device wedged inside. Plugging the end of its dangling cord into what she had explained earlier to be an electrical outlet that provided power, she then turned a knob on the box and the propellers hummed to life.

“I don't have air conditioning,” she continued, oblivious to Raistlin's gaze on the contraption. “So a fan will have to do. Sit a while and cool off. If you need to lay down, just move it with you.”

Finally, she turned to him, hands on her hips. She eyed him for a heartbeat before continuing. “Later, we'll have to go over our cover story and any information we'll need for your visit to see Dr. Harvey tomorrow. Try to remember what – if any – meds you were on or what you know about your condition. 'Cuz I really don't feel like making stuff up and trying to deceive a doctor ...”

“I already told you I don't remember anything,” Raistlin said, annoyed.

“And I said try! Maybe a nap or whatever will jog your memory,” she snapped back, clearly trying to be nice but struggling to keep her own irritation in check. “Anyway, there's more fruit in the fridge if you need it. You still look like shit.” And with that, Erowyn walked out the front door.

Raistlin watched her go, annoyance and exhaustion warring inside him. Going to the sink, he refilled the canteen before sitting at the table, directly in the path of blowing air from the fan. Said air was tepid at best, but since his shirt and hair were still soaking wet, the sensation was cooling enough.

As he dried off and sipped on the cold water in his hands, the melting ice cubes clinking loudly each time he raised and lowered the canteen, Raistlin did his best to recall what he knew about himself. His gaze rested abstractly on the window, the view outside now obscured by the gently humming fan.

Raistlin could recall his name, and the location of Solace seemed familiar to him, but he knew not why . He was also certain that the place whence he came had more than one moon, unlike this place. And those moons were important – not only to the functioning of his world but to himself personally, as if his connection to them helped to define him... Not only that, but their absence left a dull ache in his chest that had nothing to do with his weak constitution.

Something was missing. Something that was as personal to him as his name.

...No, in some respects, Raistlin felt as though he'd rather have this unnamed thing returned than even be able to recall who he was.

Minutes wore on, and Raistlin was no closer to any revelation than he was when he woke up this morning. Nothing else had revealed itself to him as his clothes and hair dried, and the canteen in his hands sat empty save for the slowly melting ice cubes at the bottom.

Nothing else, that is, except for the name 'Caramon'.

“Who, or what, is a Caramon?” Raistlin asked himself. His brow furrowed as he said the word out loud again. “Caramon!” The name was clipped from his lips, irritation surging behind it. And even as he said it, Raistlin's gaze drifted to a battered, rusty sword hanging on the wall by the door.

As if compelled by the object, Raistlin rose and approached it. Glancing out the screen door, he saw Erowyn kneeling in the dirt of her unevenly tilled rows, carefully putting seeds into the earth before patting the soil firmly over each one. Even from here, he could hear her muttering. Though, unlike before, her tone was gentle, as if entreating the little seeds to flourish.

Raistlin felt himself snort. She was odd, to say the least. However, despite its appearance, it was clear to him that Erowyn cared about this place. She was trying. Even so, if the unopened boxes scattered around the house told Raistlin anything, it was that she had no faith in herself and her future, even if she seemed determined to play farmer. And, it seemed, she was failing.

Even with her struggles, for some reason, she was compelled to open her home and offer him a place to stay as if concerned for his well-being. But why? What was her motivation, her end goal? She seemed harmless, if not unpredictable and over-reactive.

But Raistlin didn't know her and didn't care to. For now, he just had to accept they were unfortunate roommates. Turning back to the sword, he gently touched its well-used surface.

“Caramon Majere...” he said again, certain that the object before him and the name were somehow synonymous with one another. Taking the sword into his palm, Raistlin lifted it from its resting spot. It was heavier than it looked, but not so heavy that he couldn't hold it before him. Giving it an experimental swing, he tested its weight. Finding it cumbersome and nigh unwieldy, Raistlin placed it back with a frown.

“Do I need to hide all the sharp objects?”

Raistlin started and turned to find Erowyn on the porch, her knapsack held in her hand. Wisps of blue hair had escaped the bun on top of her head and now shot around her head like a crazed halo set alight by the late afternoon sun. Here and there, strands stuck to her face and neck, plastered there by the perspiration covering her skin. Her face was oddly blank for seeing a stranger holding a sword in her house.

“No. Why would you be?”

“I dunno,” she said, crossing her arms, her posture and expression finally animating into being defensive. “Maybe you're thinking about stabbing me in my sleep.”

“I don't know how to use a sword,” Raistlin assured, knowing (somehow) that it was true. The sword in his hand felt... wrong. Alien. Barbaric. He backed away and returned to his spot at the table, glowering at the sensation the rusted metal object stirred inside him.

“I'd say,” she scoffed and pulled open the screen door. Entering the house, Erowyn tossed her pack by the door and started kicking her dirt-caked boots off. “By the way you were swinging that around like a club, I'd think you're more a danger to yourself than me.”

Raistlin huffed in irritation. Though he instinctively knew he had no skills wielding a sword, he knew at the very least which end to stick things with. But, deciding it was better to stay quiet, he instead settled on glaring at her.

As if hearing his thoughts, the woman chuckled and said as her last boot hit the floor, “But, I suppose any idiot can swing a sword and stick something with the pointy end. Heck, that's how I manage...” Erowyn straightened and stretched her back. “I've got the seeds planted. I figured I'd come in for a quick break before I water them. How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

She arched an eyebrow at him, her lips pressed into a thin line as if holding back a snarky comment of her own. Raistlin continued to glare, daring her to speak it. He was frustrated by his lack of self-knowledge, and this woman was his only target to vent at. Besides, she was so easy to rile... And he decided he gained some satisfaction by ruffling her feathers, even if it did push the boundaries of this rocky situation they found themselves in.

Instead of taking the bait, Erowyn shrugged. Going to the sink, she washed her hands before refilling a glass with water and noisily drank it down. That done, she went down the hall and into the bathroom.

Alone again, Raistlin eyed the sword, vexed beyond belief. “What did I do to deserve this?” he muttered to no one in particular.

***
FARMER
***

“What did I do to deserve this?” I muttered as I peed. Finishing with the call of nature and dealing with my monthly visitor, I then flushed the toilet and washed my hands. “Shit!” I gasped, finally getting a good look at myself in the mirror above the sink.

My skin was beet red!!

Opening the medicine cabinet, I fish around until I find the almost-empty bottle of aloe and quickly apply it to my burnt shoulders and forehead, hissing at the sting. “Not that it's going to do much good now,” I complain as I work.

Exiting the bathroom, I find Raistlin exactly where I found him. As if on instinct, I feel my spine stiffen as I enter the kitchen. His icy blue gaze is still on me, watching me in that unnerving way he had. I hated it – feeling like he knew everything about me just by looking at me. I knew that retaliating with my smart mouth didn't help matters, because it was obvious he would return the sentiment with more of the same.

                                                           ~Like oil and water~

'More like gasoline and a match,' I think to myself, answering that ever-present voice in my head.

“Are you hungry?” I ask, figuring I could at least kill him with kindness.

“No.”

“Alright,” I shrug again and return to my boots. Then, I remember. “Oh, that's right!” Grabbing my backpack, I take it to the table. “I bought you some essentials while I was in town.” Opening the bag, I start rummaging through it. “I got you your own toothbrush and toothpaste,” I say, placing the items on the table one by one. “Some deodorant, shaving cream, razors... Socks.” Feeling my face heat, I grab the package of underwear and toss it on top of everything else. “And underwear. I don't know your size, so hopefully they fit. And I didn't know if you're a boxer or a brief kind of guy, so I went in the middle and got you boxer briefs.”

Raistlin blinked, clearly taken aback. I watch as he grabs the package and turns it in his hand, his brow furrowed in thought. Finally, he says, “I don't know if I'm a boxer or a brief man either... Or even what that even means...”

He looks genuinely confused, so I swallow down any snarky commentary on the matter. “I'm sure you'll remember. If they're not comfortable to wear, I can buy a different kind tomorrow when we go into town. I also didn't think to get you shoes...” I add solemnly. “Or other clothes for that matter. Not that there's much selection in town anyway. We don't have a clothing store. But-!” I add, suddenly remembering, “There's a chest in the closet at the end of the hall. If we can't find something of mine that might work, tonight we can go through the chest and see if there's anything that might fit you. Most of it belonged to my Grandfather before...” I trail off, suddenly regretting bringing up the chest. Not only were his clothes stored away inside, but also a few other odds and ends I didn't know if I had the heart to look at right now.

“Anything would be preferable to pink cat pants,” Raistlin grumbled, his long fingers plucked at the fleecy fabric as if it were an affront to his very existence. I forced down a smirk.

Returning to my boots, I yank them on, one by one. I pause as I open the screen door and, unable to keep it in, I say, “Jokes on you, my Grandpa loved wearing pink!”

With a wink and a laugh, I let the door slam shut behind me.

***

Chapter Text

***
FARMER
***

I woke early to water the garden and finished just as the sun fully crested the treetops. As I worked, I thought of last night and the few hours I spent - trying - to get to know my new 'roommate'.

Raistlin revealed that he still didn't know much about himself besides his name and that wherever he came from had three moons – a silver, a red, and a black. The black moon was one only he and those 'like' him could see (whatever that meant). He had also confessed (albeit hesitantly) that he was fairly certain the name 'Caramon' belonged to a family member. Perhaps a brother. That felt right to him, he said. He then explained that the reason I caught him examining the sword was because this Caramon person was the one to wield such a weapon, not him.

However, what type of weapon he used, Raistlin could still not remember. But he was certain he was proficient in something ...

“Magic,” I muttered as I dusted my hands off and stretched my back. I knew it in my soul: Raistlin Majere was a magic user. And a dangerous one, if what he looked like when I first found him was any indication.

Now, however, he was as helpless as the kittens portrayed on the fleece pajama bottoms he continuously complained about.

I muffle a yawn with the back of my hand as I take the watering can to the rickety shed and shut the door, using the cinder block to keep it closed. Same as the previous night, I hadn't slept very well. How could I, when so much had happened?

All night long, I had tossed and turned on the couch, thinking about everything that turned my life topsy-turvy. From my previous life working at Jojo-Corp as a sales rep, to my disastrous marriage and messy divorce, to my mental state after the fall-out, to finding my Grandfather's letter and ending up here...

...To the spaceman falling into my forest wearing my flannel kitten pajamas and endlessly whinging about me putting too much butter on the peas we had for dinner last night.

It would be hilarious if it wasn't happening to me !

But (I remind myself again) Raistlin is just as lost and confused as I am. Even more so, I had realized as we sat at the kitchen table over supper and tried to go over his medical state. Or, for that matter, his knowledge about modern things in general.

That was also one point that had kept me up last night: Raistlin had no idea about anything in the modern world. I knew he hadn't known about electricity or common, everyday appliances from when he had first woken up, but I had tried to brush it off as confusion from his landing. However, it soon became clear that he hadn't hit his head on the way down. He didn't know about modern conveniences because he was never exposed to them!

Not only did Raistlin fall from space, but he came from a world that sounded like it was stuck in the medieval age! The thought was baffling to me. On top of that, his knowledge of his condition was rudimentary at best. He seemed to recall that his lungs always acted up, and he just pushed through it before. Tea, he had said, had helped him through the worst spasms. Tea!

I shook my head, for there was no concoction of herbs I knew of (not that I was a medical professional) that could stop a full-blown asthma attack the likes of which he had suffered yesterday morning. But he seemed to insist that was how he had survived so long. And when I pulled out my laptop and started pulling up information and medical videos, his eyes had glazed over. Overwhelmed and confused by the wealth of information I so readily had at my fingertips, he quickly withdrew and became even more of an obstinate grouch. I could tell then and there that, wherever Raistlin had come from, he had thought himself highly intelligent. And he probably was in his world. But here, when I casually showed him things he had no knowledge or comprehension of, it made him feel stupid.

And he hated that.

In a way, it was kind of sad, and I tried to empathize with him. However, another thing I learned about him was that the last thing Raistlin wanted was pity.

Sick of dealing with him (and him clearly through trying to be nice to me), we ended the evening on a sour note. I'm pretty sure I had called him something akin to a tight-assed dickhead, while he barbed back by comparing me to a bitchy old bat.

Ouch .

Well, he had the bitchy part right, at least. I had to admit I wasn't myself lately, especially after his arrival. “I don't know what it is about the guy,” I grumble as I stomp my way back to the house. The sun was now flooding the garden, spreading warm yellow rays over the moist soil.

“He just gets under my skin! I don't think he's a bad guy, per se..." I say as I take another stretch to ease the cramped muscles in my neck, wincing as my tank top rubs against my sunburnt shoulders and upper back with the movement.

"He's just scared.” I pause and take a moment to survey the rest of my farm. The small sprinkler Sophia had gifted me yesterday sprayed merrily, casting little rainbows over the tiny corner I sectioned off for the blueberries. I wished I had access to more of the little devices. It would make my life so much easier!

'Someday,' I tell myself, even as thinking about Raistlin's predicament gives rise to my own brand of unease. Not even the sight of Trixy coming around the corner of the house lifts my spirits.

“Frankly...I'm scared too,” I admit to the feline as I kneel down and scratch her under the chin. She gives me a happy pur and rubs against my leg before hearing something rustle in the nearby shrubs and slinking off to investigate.

"My little blood-thirsty murder kitten," I say with a smile.

I open the screen door as quietly as I can and find that my bedroom door remains shut. Either Raistlin was still sleeping, or he was refusing to come out. I take my boots off and pause as my ever-negative inner voice floats through me:

                                                               ~Or he died last night~
                                              ~You failed to help him~
                 ~Everything you touch dies~

'Nonsense! He's fine!' I think to myself, remembering how I heard him use the nebulizer last night before seeing the light in my bedroom finally wink out. Also (I would never confess to anyone that I had stood by the door this morning), I had heard the bed frame squeak in response to him rolling over several times before I headed out to water the crops.

I glance at the clock on the wall above the sink. It was 7:45. Plenty of time to shower and make breakfast before we needed to head to Harvey's Clinic.

***
RAISTLIN
***

The pipes in the wall rattled, signaling to Raistlin that Erowyn had finished watering her measly little garden and was cleaning up. He would never confess it to anyone, but he had spent much of the last hour or so watching (and judging) her as she had worked.

He watched her because he was trying to understand her, and judged her because everything she did irritated him!

The woman had no direction or purpose in tackling her chore. Why she didn't do one row at a time, instead seemingly getting distracted by this or that, vexed him. Erowyn would flit from one end of the garden to the other; her tiny watering can constantly empty before she even reached her destination. Thus, it took her twice as long to get anything done!

He scowled and sat up in bed. Swinging his legs out from beneath the patchwork quilt, he glared - once again - at the pink abomination encasing his legs. It wasn't that he hated the color pink, or that he disliked kittens (he didn't, he suddenly realized). It was because he didn't have any say in the matter!

Nothing about this situation was in his control... and he hated that !

Well, it was time to take matters into his own hands.

Making up his mind, Raistlin silently padded over to Erowyn's dresser and began opening drawers, intent on finding something more suitable to wear. Last night, They hadn't gotten a chance to look for better attire, going only as far as opening the closet and finding some boots that would work for the time being.

But they never got a chance to open the chest to look for clothes before the bickering began.

Raistlin hastily shut the top drawer when a quick perusal revealed nothing but feminine underwear in all manner of types ranging from lacy panties to silky, see-through brassieres. Each item was seemingly useless to someone who spent much of her day digging in the dirt.

Even the things she wore were impractical!

Daring to continue his search, Raistlin found the next drawer was more promising, with neat stacks of folded shirts and trousers. Rummaging around, he soon found a pair of pants of similar make to the ones he was wearing. Flannel sleepwear, he believed she had called the fabric. And this pair was checkered instead of patterned with frolicking kittens. Besides, he felt like the color suited him better – black with crossing lines of red and gray.

Shucking off the pink pants, Raistlin pulled on the second pair. They weren't nearly as long as the others, but he'd rather suffer half his calves being exposed than traipsing around in public wearing the other ones. He eyed the package of underwear Erowyn had bought for him, still lying on the corner of the dresser.

'Men's Boxer Briefs' was displayed in big letters along the front, along with an image of a man wearing said garment, finally giving Raistlin an idea of what the term even meant. Or so he figured. Upon closer inspection of the image, the tight-fitting garment seemed confining to Raistlin, even if the gentleman on display seemed comfortable.

Underwear was underwear, after all.

Wasn't it?

However, Erowyn had gone through the trouble of buying them, and Raistlin wasn't so sure he wanted to wander around with his nethers rubbing against strange clothing that didn't belong to him. So he might as well try them on. Opening the crinkly packaging (again, a material he knew he hadn't seen before), Raistlin undressed again and pulled on a pair of shorts, instantly grimacing at the unfamiliar feeling of his undercarriage supported and tucked so close to his body. He took a few steps around the bed, moving his legs and even squatting down, testing the feel for good measure.

Nope. He hated it!

“Not a boxer briefs guy then,” he muttered. Removing them, he pulled the checkered pants back on and tossed the offending pink pants and underwear into the corner. He eyed the shirt he still wore. It fit well enough and wasn't nearly as terrible as everything else, so he decided to forgo digging through any more drawers, lest he discover something else he'd seriously regret finding.

Like he had last night...!

He'd never admit to it, but his boredom and curiosity had gotten the better of him, and he had risked a glimpse inside the drawer of Erowyn's bedside table last night. That alone had almost been enough to dissuade him from going through more of her items!

Smutty reading materials on her bookshelves, silk and lace under-things in her drawers, and phallic items next to her bed made Raistlin question what kind of woman he had found himself with.

Perhaps, he was the one needing to fear for his safety, not her!

Just then, the pipes rattled to a stop. A moment later, a whirring sound followed. Raistlin frowned, again irritated by all these unfamiliar inventions he was surrounded by. Erowyn had spoken to him yesterday like he was a simpleton, explaining the use of the toilet and other household conveniences, such as electricity. But, truth be told, when it came to said items, he was a simpleton.

And Raistlin despised that most of all!

Deciding he wasn't going to be the last one out into the kitchen, he opened the bedroom door and made his way through the living room. The spot Erowyn had slept last night was a nightmarish tangle of disorderly blankets and scattered pillows. The slovenly sight made Raistlin frown again.

Entering the kitchen, he was determined to start breakfast on his own. Starting the kettle for tea was simple enough, but the thing she called a toaster proved trickier. He had it plugged in as she had instructed, but the bread in the slots refused to crisp.

“You have to push the lever on the front to lower the bread down into it,” a voice said from behind.

“I know that,” Raistlin snarled as he jammed the lever down with more force than was necessary.

Erowyn appeared next to him at the counter, bringing with her the soft scent of soap and freshly washed hair. Her attention was on another apparatus she had called a coffee machine. Raistlin watched from the corner of his eye as she filled the reservoir at the back with water before adding a paper liner to another section and filling it with scoops of dark grounds.

“I should have started this before I took my shower,” she grumbled as she worked. The aroma of earthy flavors soon filled the air, overpowering the scent of clean female. Raistlin frowned again, irritated he had even taken note of such a benign thing.

A moment later the toast jetted up with an obnoxious POP sound, causing both of them to start.

“Yeesh, jumpy this morning, aren't we, spaceman?”

“You jumped too,” Raistlin shot back. Grabbing his toast, he threw the slices on a plate as the kettle on the stove started whistling.

“Hey!” she suddenly exclaimed. “Where did you get those pants?!”

Ignoring her, Raistlin found a mug and made his tea before buttering his toast. Locating the jam inside the refrigerator's door, he slathered on a good helping.

“You went through my drawers!” Erowyn cried, taking a step closer and pointing at his pants.

“So?” he replied mildly, retreating to sit at the table.

“That's my private property!”

Raistlin glanced at Erowyn as he took a bit of toast and saw that she was red to her ears – and it had nothing to do with her sunburn! He sipped his tea to hide his self-satisfied smirk, relishing that he held the upper hand.

Erowyn stomped towards him. Finger waving in his face, she declared, “If this is going to be a permanent arrangement, we're going to have to establish some boundaries !”

Raistlin merely shrugged and went back to his toast. “Your bread is burning,” he said a moment later.

Sure enough, the smell of burnt bread filled the air, followed by a string of expletives bursting from the framer's mouth.

***
FARMER
***

After throwing away the scorched remains of my toast, I settled on yogurt and the other half of my bagel from yesterday. Sitting across from Raistlin, we said nothing for a good long while, awkward silence heavy between us.

I was pissed off, and by the infuriating smirk tugging at his mouth, he was delighting in it. And even though every cell in my body screamed for me to rush into my bedroom and hide all my secret things from his prying eyes right then and there, I refused to give him the satisfaction. I wouldn't play his manipulative mind games. I wouldn't!

Because they were the same games Donovan used to pull on me...

I was here first, and how I lived my life was my business. So what if Raistlin dug through my clothes or found my drawer of sex toys?! That made him the pervert. Not me!

Satisfied with that line of thought, I took another sip of coffee before finally ending the silence. “We need to collaborate on a cover story. I already half-started one for Maru and Dr. Harvey, but we should hammer out the details.”

“I thought you put an ad in the paper, and I answered. We're roommates.”

“That was just my attempt for us to start over,” I said.

Raistlin rolled those eerie ice-blue eyes of his and sat forward in his chair. Cupping his tea in his hands, he said, “Fine. What did you tell Maru and Dr. Harvey?”

“That you and I are old college friends. You've fallen on hard times and needed a place to stay for a while. Even an idiot can see that I could use help on the farm, so I offered for you to stay here for the summer. But-”

“What college?” Raistlin interrupted.

“Huh?”

“What college did we attend? What did I study? What did you study?”

“I...erm...” I stammered, suddenly realizing there were more details to nail down than I had anticipated. “Well, first of all, we went to Zuzu University,” I say then, pointing to my T-shirt hanging on his skinny frame. “That's where I got that . As far as what I majored in, it was Musical Composition with a minor in Education...” I tried to ignore the twisting sensation in my chest as I said it. “I wanted to compose music and, if that didn't pan out, have an opening to teach...”

I felt Raistlin's gaze heavy on me. Defiant, I met his stare and dared him to ask the question I saw burning in those pale blue eyes: Then what are you doing here ?

                                              ~Failure~

Instead, he asked, “And my major? What other programs are offered there?”

I felt the little knot in my chest loosen at that. Either he didn't care, or he thought better than to bring up why I was digging in the dirt instead of composing symphonies.

“Well, what are your interests? What kind of area of study do you think you would have been drawn to?”

Raistlin frowned at that. His brow furrowed, white eyebrows stretching to meet in the middle of the space between his eyes. After a moment, he shook his head. “You said I 'fell on hard times'. Perhaps I didn't graduate?”

“You want to be known as the drop-out?”

His frown turned into a severe scowl.

“I'll take that as a no.” I leaned forward then, mirroring his posture as I thought. “Let's see... Well, there's something basic like a Business degree. Maybe you were aspiring to work in management or start your own company?”

“Hmm...” he pondered for a moment. “Perhaps.”

“But then again, you would have met.... never mind,” I said, quickly changing the subject. He didn't need to know about Donovan, and studying business would have definitely put them in the same field. “Or what about Mathematics?” I asked. “Are you good with numbers and such?”

“I think so...” he said.

“What about Psychology?” I say then. “You are good at pushing other people's buttons.”

The corner of his mouth twitched at that. “Indeed.”

I couldn't help but roll my eyes. “Alright. So you majored in Psychology. You aspired to be a counselor, but fell short on opportunities and funds.”

“Fine.” He shrugged then. “But where am I from? Where are you from? How did we meet at this University? I doubt that -given our differing interests- we would have had courses together. Or, for that matter, become friends in the first place.”

It took me a moment to think that one through. “Hmm... to help explain your accent, you're from south of the Gem Sea, in the Gotoro Empire. Which -by the way- is currently at war with this nation, the Ferngill Republic. However, you haven't lived there for much of your life. Instead, you moved to Zuzu City when you were a child with your aunt and uncle (whom you're now estranged from), thus the reason you fell on hard times..?”

Raistlin's eyebrow arched again at that. “I cut ties with the only family I have and am now within a country at war with my home nation? Doesn't seem like such a move is beneficial to my self-preservation.”

“Work with me here, will you?!” I exclaimed, throwing up my hands in exacerbation and sitting back in my chair.

“How many years would it take for me to finish the degrees at this University?” he asked then.

“About... seven?” I say, considering. “I started University early, and graduated by the time I was twenty-five.”

“And how long ago was that?”

I scowled, seeing right through his thinly veiled attempt at sleuthing out my age.

“We're college buddies, remember?” he asked mildly. “I'd know how old you are. Your birthday. Your family – all of it, for that matter.”

“We don't need to go into every single little detail!” I replied harshly. “The people in this town barely know anything about me, so I doubt those types of questions are going to come up right away. Besides, do you even know your birthday? How old are you ?”

“My day of life-gift is Corij 17th, 326 AC,” Raistlin rattled off. He blinked at that, just as taken aback by the sudden information as I was.

“What is a Corij?” I asked, bewildered at the nonsense he seemingly just threw my way.

“The sixth month of the year,” he said, recovering from the sudden revelation of the date of his birth. “The end of spring...”

“Alright, so June 17th. But what is 326 AC?”

“Three hundred and twenty-six years after the Cataclysm,” he stated as confident as ever, pulling the information from somewhere deep within.

“Well, there never was a Cataclysm here,” I said. “Do you know how long ago you were born?” Before he shot back with my previous excuse that - no one knows how old I was so he didn't have to say either - I said, “Dr. Harvey will need to know your date of birth. For medical reasons. So if you don't know, we're going to have to pick a year.”

I watched as Raistlin thought. Several moments later, his eyes suddenly glazed over. “I lived for thirty years before...” His voice went flat, and as I watched, what little color in his skin drained.

And the gold returned to his irises in a strange swirling of color as if dropping ink into water.

“Before I entered the Abyss and faced my Queen's wrath...” Raistlin said, his voice rasping yet, somehow, laced with power that made the hairs on my arm stand on end as his pupils shifted to the unnatural shape of hourglasses. Then, he fell silent. His hands clung to the side of the table so hard his knuckles lost all color. His breath quickened, and those scary eyes widened in absolute horror.

“Raistlin?” I asked, unnerved by how ashen he had suddenly gone. When he only stared at nothing, seemingly seeing things I couldn't with eyes that didn't look human, I rushed to his side.

“Raistlin!” I said again, louder, as I shook him.

Suddenly, he took a deep, ragged breath, his whole body shuddering as if drenched again in ice water. Snapping out of it, he shook his head. His breathing became labored as he clenched his hand to his chest, repeatedly blinking as if in a daze. His eyes were normal again.

“What happened?” he rasped, coughing slightly.

“I dunno,” I replied, unnerved as I knelt beside him. His face was clammy and pale. “You kind of zoned out there. Like you were remembering something terrible...”

'You said you had lived thirty years before... Before what?' I thought. 'And what kind of Queen did you anger?' But I kept those questions to myself. Whatever he had done at thirty years of age was something better left unexplored.

Raistlin put his hand to his forehead, clearly agitated and confused.

“Thirty,” he rasped then. “I am thirty years old. Like my name, I'm sure of that, at least.”

“Okay,” I said. Standing, I push his tea back into his trembling hands. “That makes us the same age then.”

He glances at me over the rim of his mug as he takes a shaky sip.

“You're still older,” I felt the need to add. “I was born in the fall.”

***

Chapter Text

***
RAISTLIN
***

“Okay, Raistlin,” the dark-skinned girl he knew as Maru said from the doorway to his right. “Doctor Harvey will see you now.”

He nodded and glanced at Erowyn sitting in the waiting room with him. He had insisted that he didn't need her to stay, but she was as jittery as ever. Especially after whatever happened this morning at the kitchen table.

Raistlin couldn't remember the details of his unresponsive fit, but it had shaken her. And badly. Him too, if he was honest... But whatever terror his mind's eye had relived, it was suppressed once more.

“I'll be fine,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “Stop fretting!”

“I'm not fretting!” Erowyn hissed back. “Just... just do whatever he says. And be nice! Dr. Harvey is an excellent physician!”

Raistlin gave a noncommittal huff and followed Maru through the swinging doors, then down a short hallway, his mind on the task in the here and now. After what transpired this morning, Erowyn had switched the subject away from details of his life to what to expect during this examination by the town's Doctor.

'Doctor Harvey will listen to your heart and lungs with a stethoscope, and probably take a blood sample,' she had said. 'He might even take some X-rays to better see what's wrong with your lungs.' When Raistlin clearly didn't understand what she was talking about, Erowyn proceeded to pull out her mechanical knowledge box and brought up several images and information on what X-rays were.

It was fascinating to Raistlin how this world's technology could see inside the body! He wanted to know more, but there simply wasn't enough time. Erowyn had then gone over what asthma was, and, though it definitely sounded like what was wrong with his lungs, Raistlin wasn't so sure. He knew many things were off about his body, but such a simple diagnosis couldn't be what plagued him... Either way, hopefully, he'd finally get some answers. All he had to do was bluff his way through this exam without appearing completely incompetent.

“Let's start by getting your height and weight,” Maru stated, indicating yet another contraption near the wall where she had paused. She winked at him. “Don't worry,” she whispered when he hesitated. “Just slip your footwear off and step on here with your back against the wall. I'll do the rest.”

Raistlin did as instructed.

“Don't slouch,” Maru said as she fiddled with a few things behind his back and again above his head. Writing a few numbers down, she indicated he could step away from the wall. “Five feet, nine inches. One hundred and eighteen pounds.” She shot him a sideways glance but didn't elaborate further.

“Alrighty, this way!” Maru chirped and indicated a small room off to the side.

Raistlin entered and found it was exactly as Erowyn had described. White, clean, and smelling of antiseptic, the little room was as pristine and sterile as he could imagine a proper practitioner of health working out of.

“Sit here,” Maru instructed again, motioning to a chair. “I'll take your blood pressure and heart rate, followed by drawing a blood sample.”

Raistlin held still as the woman adhered a cuff to his arm and did just that. Nodding to herself, she wrote more numbers on the paper she had clipped to the board she carried. Then, she wheeled a small cart closer and proceeded to prep his arm to take blood. Erowyn had informed him about this process too, so Raistlin remained still, watching silently.

When she had filled several little glass vials with his blood and covered the needle hole in his arm with a sticky bandage, Maru said softly, “Erowyn has been keeping me informed of how last night and this morning went, but I need to make my own notes for Dr. Harvey. So just answer these questions as best you can. Okay?” When he nodded, she proceeded to fire off basic inquiries such as when he had last eaten, had a bowel movement, how he had slept, and the like.

“Very good,” Maru said as she marked off various checkboxes and finished a few notes. “Dr. Harvey will want to do a full physical examination today. I assume Erowyn informed you of what that might entail?”

“The basics of it, yes,” Raistlin replied.

“Good. It might seem a bit invasive,” Maru said as she got to her feet. “But with the loss of your medical records,” she winked, clearly in on the cover story, “we'll have to get a full baseline for you. So, for starters, you'll need to strip down completely. You can leave your socks on, but nothing else, and put on this gown. It ties behind the neck,” she explained, holding up the pale green gown. “Leave the rest untied in case he needs to check anything else.”

“Such as...?” Raistlin asked. Erowyn hadn't mentioned he'd need to be as naked as the day he was born for this exam!

Maru paused by the door and shrugged. “You're a bit young, but if there's an indication for it, he might want to do a genital or even a prostate exam. Oh, that reminds me! And we'll need you to urinate into this cup,” she added and held out a small container to him. “There's a bathroom right there,” she said, pointing to a small side room with a toilet and sink. “Just put the lid back on when you're done and place the sample in the little window in the wall above the toilet. Close the sliding door on your side of the wall. When you do, a door will open on the other side for me to take the sample and start running the tests. After that, just sit on this exam table and wait. Dr. Harvey will be in once your initial tests finish.”

With that, Maru left.

For a moment, Raistlin could only stand there, staring at the little container in his hand, questioning whether or not he should make a run for it now while he felt hale enough to escape.

***
FARMER
***

Minutes wore on after Maru led Raistlin through the doors into the exam area beyond. I knew it was okay for me to leave. Raistlin was in good hands and would be fine, after all. But after this morning's episode, I couldn't help but worry...

“How did last night's nebulizer treatment go?” a voice cut through my internal discourse.

Blinking, I turn to find Dr. Harvey behind the front desk, smiling at me. He was standing there in his dark green coat over a gray button-up shirt and red tie. As usual, his stethoscope was draped over his shoulders, his mop of hair looked finger-combed to the side of his head, and his soft brown eyes glittered at me through his glasses which he then adjusted on his nose. His mustache curled even higher as his smile widened.

“Earth-to-Erowyn,” he added with a little crackle-hiss through his cupped hands as if he were radioing me. “Did I startle you?”

I cleared my throat. “Oh, hi! Sorry, I'm a little spacey today. I didn't sleep well again last night.”

“Is everything alright?” he asked, his smile disappearing.

“Yes, I'm fine!” I say, perhaps a little too chipperly. “It's just been a bit stressful. And to answer your question,” I cut him off from trying to say more, “last night went good. I just worry, is all.”

“Hmm,” Harvey nodded and, leaning his hip against the counter in front of him, eyed me carefully as he crossed his arms over his chest. “Yesterday morning was quite the scare. I can't blame you for worrying through the night. I was tempted to come check on him when I closed the clinic yesterday, but figured you'd ring if there was a need.”

“Right,” I said with a nod. “And I would have. Thank you, by the way, for coming so quickly.”

“Of course,” he said, his smile returning. “I said if there's anything you need from me, you have only to ask. And I meant it.”

“T-thanks,” I stammer, feeling my face flush. “I appreciate the offer.” Standing, I gather my pack. “I know he's in good hands, so I'll be going.”

“Raistlin is ready for you,” Maru says, suddenly appearing in the doorway behind Dr. Harvey.

“Thank you, Maru. I'll be right in.” He nods in her direction by way of dismissal. She leaves his side a moment later, and I can't help but notice how Harvey never takes those puppy-dog eyes off me.

“I need to pick up a few things and do errands around town. Call me when he's done, alright?” I say, adjusting my pack on my shoulders.

“Will do,” I hear Harvey say as I turn to leave. “Oh, and Erowyn?” His voice draws me to glance back at him.

“Please put on sunscreen the next time you're outside all day. I'd hate to diagnose you with skin cancer in a few years,” he adds. And with that, he tosses a container in my direction. “It'll help with the pain while that burn peels. On the house!” he exclaims and, with a wink, disappears through the door leading to the exam rooms.

I fumble to catch what he throws my way but somehow manage to keep it from falling through my arms and smashing onto the tiled floor. Turning it in my hands, I find that he had taken the time to mix a medicated lotion to soothe my sunburn.

I don't know how Harvey had the foresight to know I had burnt to a crisp yesterday. Maybe he had seen me wandering around town. Or, perhaps he just knew me better than I knew myself.

Either way, I can't help but smile at his kindness. Harvey really was a good soul.

***
RAISTLIN
***

After what seemed like an eternity, a gentle rapping sounded on the exam room door.

“Come in,” Raistlin said, and a moment later, Dr. Harvey's head popped in.

“Good morning, Mr. Majere,” the other man said with a smile before fully entering. “Do you remember me from yesterday? I'm Harvey, Pelican Town's only Doctor in residence.”

Raistlin nodded. “Yes, I remember you, Dr. Harvey. And, just Raistlin is fine.”

The other man nodded and sat on a rolling stool near the cushioned exam table upon which Raistlin had sat and waited. “Well, Raistlin, I have the preliminary results from your blood work and urine sample,” he said, motioning with the clipboard in his hands. “But first, I would like to start by listening to your heart and lungs, if you don't mind.”

“Not at all,” Raistlin said, trying to sound friendly. Sitting still, he held his breath and likewise breathed when told and waited while Dr. Harvey listened to the different areas of his chest, going over each spot several times.

“How did yesterday go?” Harvey asked as he scribbled some numbers on the clipboard. “Did you have any further trouble breathing?”

“I got a bit lightheaded in the afternoon,” Raistlin replied.

“Hmm, Maru made a note of that. Sounds like you were outside in the sun for too long. What made you feel up for a little trip into the woods?” Harvey asked with a glance over the top of his dark-rimmed spectacles.

“I got bored while Erowyn came to town and wanted to explore the farm,” Raistlin replied. It wasn't a lie.

Harvey pursed his lips and nodded. “Your samples show that you are significantly dehydrated. I'd caution you not to go anywhere without taking water with you, especially in this heat.”

“Noted.”

Dr. Harvey reached into his pocket and drew out a long object. Clicking the end of it, a light flashed on the opposite end. “Look straight ahead,” he instructed and proceeded to flash the light into each of Raistlin's eyes. As he did, he continued speaking. “Your body mass index is lower than medically recommended. Are you eating properly?”

“Yes.”

“Do I need to be concerned about any eating disorders?” he asked gently and indicated that Raistlin follow his finger with his gaze. “It's okay to tell me. I won't judge. In fact, I can offer you help in the matter if that's the case.”

“I eat enough.”

Harvey hummed softly at that as he switched the object in his hands to check Raistlin's other eye. “Do foods irritate your digestive system? By that, I mean do certain foods give you stomach pains, indigestion, heartburn, vomiting, or loose bowels?”

Raistlin thought for a moment. It seemed as though there were certain foods that didn't agree with him. But he couldn't remember anything in particular. “Yes,” he replied. “I think there are some...”

“Such as?” Harvey prompted. Putting away the light, he gathered another instrument and, after tucking Raistlin's hair behind his shoulders, proceeded to look into his ears with the objects' coned end. “Can you name anything specific?”

“I haven't really paid much attention, to be honest,” Raistlin replied, fighting the urge to pull away from the other man. He found that he didn't like having a stranger so close to his personal space. Plus, that danged thing tickled his ear!

“How about grains or peanuts? Those are common food allergens,” Harvey said, inserting the device into his patient's other ear, seemingly either oblivious to, or used to, the way Raistlin resisted squirming away from him.

Raistlin merely shrugged then, the movement mercifully ending the ear exam.

“I only ask because your blood work also indicates that your body has a high response to irritants in your system,” Harvey explained, drawing away. “And if you do indeed eat enough, then your low weight suggests that you don't digest food properly or absorb nutrients like you should. However, the results could also be due to environmental allergies as well. Which, given the state of your lungs, could explain those results. If you want, we can talk about doing an allergy screening today.”

“...Fine,” Raistlin said hesitantly. Erowyn hadn't brought any of this up, but she had said to trust this man. So far, he didn't feel any reason why he shouldn't.

Hearing his hesitancy, Dr. Harvey offered a smile and said, “Don't worry, it's not as bad as people say it is.”

“I confess that I'm not familiar with the procedure.”

Finished with the ear exam, Harvey put the instruments away and rolled his stool back in front of his patient. Holding his arms out, he had Raistlin go through a few movements to test reflexes.

“Don't worry,” he said as he went through the motions, watching Raistlin mimic each one and tracking his range with an expert eye. “It'll involve running a few more blood tests for the food allergies, and I'll have you keep a journal of foods that seem to upset your digestive system so we can better pinpoint them.

“But, to check for environmental allergies,” he said, now gently palpating Raistlin's wrists, the inside of each elbow, and every one of his fingers, “we'll need to do a series of small injections under the skin on your back. If you don't have environmental allergies, you won't react. However, if you are allergic to something, your skin will turn red and, at worst, might blister. It'll be uncomfortable for a few days, but some medication will help counter that.”

When Raistlin stayed silent, Harvey added, “Right, perhaps let's not get ahead of ourselves. One thing at a time. How long will you be staying with Erowyn?” he asked, now shifting to meet Raistlin's gaze.

“For the summer, at least.”

Harvey nodded before returning to writing on his clipboard. “That'll give us time to sort through everything,” he said. “I see this section here is blank,” he added, tapping an area on his sheet of paper with his writing utensil. “Are you sexually active, Mr. Majere?”

Raistlin raised an eyebrow. He was sure he had filled out everything before entering the exam room. “I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”

“The information will inform me if I need to add any tests to check for sexually transmitted diseases along with your other blood work,” the other man replied mildly before turning to Raistlin. “It's a basic medical question. And as your Doctor, I can assure you that your answers will remain confidential.”

Raistlin held the other man's gaze. “No,” he replied icily. “I am not sexually active.”

“How many sexual partners have you had in the last six months?”

“Zero.”

Dr. Harvey nodded and returned to writing on his sheet. “Have you ever had unprotected sex or had a partner who informed you that they tested positive for any diseases?”

“No.” Raistlin didn't miss how the other man's gaze flicked to his for a heartbeat before retreating back to his paperwork.

“Good. That's that,” Harvey said, clicking his writing instrument once before shoving it into the breast pocket of his jacket. “Okay, let's first start with more thorough blood tests to see if they can help us pinpoint any reasons for your low body mass. I would also like to do some imaging on your lungs to see what's going on there. I won't lie, by the sounds of them, they're not in great shape. Do you know what type of inhaler you were on before it was lost?”

Erowyn and he had gone over these details this morning and had tried to come up with something to tell the doctor. But seeing as how, in truth, Raistlin seemingly wasn't even from this world, they had both agreed that it was best to play ignorant.

“Sorry, doc,” Raistlin said, doing his best to sound sheepish. “But I'm terrible at remembering the names of medications.”

Harvey eyed him over the rim of his glasses for a moment. “What was the name of the clinic you got your prescriptions from?”

Raistlin shrugged. “The information is in my cell phone. And that's lost with the rest of my luggage,” he said, repeating what Erowyn had told him to say.

“Well, that's certainly frustrating, isn't it?” Harvey shook his head with a seemingly good-natured chuckle as he rolled away on his stool.

“Yes. Yes, it is,” Raistlin agreed, hoping that was the end of the invasion of his personal space and intimate questions that he couldn't answer.

“Very well,” Harvey said and stood. “I guess we'll just have to start at square one and be as complete with everything as we can.” Going to a small cupboard at the side of the room, he pulled a pair of thin blue gloves from a small box. “Now, let's finish up with the rest of your exam before we continue with your labs.” He proceeded to pull on the gloves, giving a loud SNAP as each one fitted over his hands.

“Please open your gown, Mr. Majere.”

***
FARMER
***

I eyed my watch for what felt like the hundredth time. Again, it confirmed that it was well past noon. Raistlin had been in Doctor Harvey's clinic since nine this morning...

“Perhaps I'd better go check and see how things are going,” I muttered, turning my feet back towards town.

Throughout the morning I had combed the sands at the beach for all the shells and coral I could find, hoping to sell them for a decent price. I even stopped at Emily's to see if she had a catalog to order clothes for Raistlin. She did, so that too sat in my pack for us to look over later. Now, I had just left the Archaeology Center after giving Gunther a fossil I knew he wanted for his collection.

To my surprise and delight, the item had been the tenth one I handed over. Thus, I was awarded a full packet of melon seeds! I couldn't believe my luck and wanted nothing more than to get home and get them in the ground ASAP.

But I didn't want to leave town without knowing how things were going at the clinic...

Just as I crossed the bridge leading from the Archaeology Center, my phone started vibrating in my pocket, followed a heartbeat later by my ringtone. Fishing it out, I hastily flip it open and press it to my ear with barely a glance at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Erowyn,” Harvey's voice sounded. “It's Dr. Harvey.”

“Hi, Doc,” I say with a smile, because, who else would it be? “I was just about to stop by. How's everything going?”

“Things are going fine,” he says, though I can't help but hear something in his voice that hints at it being otherwise.

“Is Raistlin alright?” I cut in before he can even take a breath.

“Yes, don't worry. Raistlin's fine,” Harvey says with a reassuring chuckle. “We ran some tests and I did a thorough physical exam. We found a few things of note, which I can go over with you if he consents to the sharing of his medical information. Which is up to him, of course. But one thing I can say is he was pretty badly dehydrated, so much so that I thought it in his best interest to have an IV infusion of electrolytes before he left, which is why it took so long. He's just finishing that up now. Are you far away?”

“I'm just nearing the Stardrop Saloon,” I say, trying not to huff my words as I realize I'm practically jogging around Mayor Lewis's house in my haste to get to the clinic.

“I'll see you in a bit then.” With that, he hangs up.

It doesn't take me long to cross the town square and reach Harvey's Clinic. Entering, I'm forced to blink a few times to let my eyes adjust to the difference in lighting. “Hi, Farmer!” Maru greets me from behind the counter. “Raistlin should be out in-”

She doesn't have a chance to finish before the man in question appears through the swinging doors leading to the back and I can't help but notice the glare he shoots my way when he sees me. I cringe for a moment at the bandages in the creases of both elbows, as well as the patch of white gauze on the back of his hand where the IV must have been only minutes before.

“Sorry,” I mouthed at him.

He didn't get to reply as Dr. Harvey appeared behind him. “Ah, Erowyn. Just in time,” he says with his usual dorky smile. “See, he's none the worse for wear. Just a little put out with me, is all.”

“Better you than me,” I say, trying to lighten the mood. Raistlin only glares harder as he comes to my side, flexing his hand as he does, clearly irritated by the medical tape holding the gauze there.

“Right,” Harvey chuckles and goes to the front desk. Maru hands him a manila folder, along with a paper bag that I recognize as one that holds prescriptions. It's a lot larger than any I had ever needed for all my meds put together!

“Here are the findings from today,” Harvey says, holding up the file before handing it to his patient. “Raistlin can let you see them if he wishes. I've detailed his medications in this bag, he already took his first dose and is to proceed as per the instructions on each one from here on out. Call if there are any reactions or questions. I only have one inhaler that he'll need in stock. I'm ordering more, but it'll take a few days to get here from Zuzu City, so I want you to keep the nebulizer with you in the event of an emergency.”

“Right, the nebulizer!” I exclaim, slapping my forehead. I had completely forgotten to bring it back this morning.

“That's all right.” Harvey chuckles again. “I expected you'd need to keep it for a bit. There's more doses for it here in this bag if the need arises. If Raistlin here can take it easy for a few days while his other medications have a chance to work, he should be fine.”

“Thank you, Dr. Harvey,” I say, grateful as always for his kindness.

“Think nothing of it,” he says and turns to Raistlin. “It was good meeting you. I'd like to see you back next Monday to check your progress if you don't mind.”

“Very well,” Raistlin says and takes the offered bag of medications, his movements snappy and quick, obviously in a hurry to get out of here.

“Oh, and don't forget to keep a food journal,” Harvey adds, and I get the feeling he's doing so for my benefit, not Raistlin's. “I'd like to go over your observations next week as well.”

Raistlin merely nods and locks eyes with me. “I'm ready to go,” he states rather flatly.

“Right. Thanks again!” I say and step aside to allow Raistlin by. The door jingles as he pushes his way through. “We'll be in touch if anything changes!” I call behind me as I follow him out the door.

It takes me a second to realize that Raistlin is already halfway down the walkway, heading back toward the farm. His long legs force me to jog to catch up. “Are you okay?” I ask, seeing that he's refusing to look at me.

When he doesn't say anything, I add, “Are you going to tell me what Dr. Harvey found, or are you going to pout the rest of the day?”

“The latter, if you don't mind,” Raistlin snarls as he walks.

“Slow down!” I scold. “He said you should be taking it easy.”

“I just want to get back, take a nap, and put this morning behind me!”

“Was it really that bad?” I ask, taking two steps to his one in an attempt to keep pace with him. He's taller than I am, and those skinny little legs of his can surely move when they have a mind to!

Suddenly, Raistlin whirled at me. “I have never been poked, prodded, touched, turned, moved, told to breathe, when not to breathe, turn my head and cough, so much in my life! And all for what?” he exclaimed, his finger thrust into my face. “To be informed that I'm sickly! I could have told him that myself and spared me four excruciating hours of humiliation!”

I could only stand there and gap at Raistlin as he turned, shoulders hunched, and continued on his way back to the farm.

“That man's a quack !” he adds as he storms off.

“Dr. Harvey is a good man!” I exclaim, recovering from my initial shock. “Why are you so upset? I told you to expect a bunch of different tests and that some might be a bit personal. Wasn't he professional?” I manage to catch up to him as we pass the broken-down bus stop.

“He was the very ideal of proper bedside etiquette.” I can't help but note his snarky tone. After that, Raistlin refused to say anything else on the matter.

Finally, we reached the house. His pace has slowed as exhaustion catches up to him. When I get the front door unlocked Raistlin wastes no time pushing past me, but not before shoving the file and bag of mediation into my hands.

“Read for yourself. I have no privacy left in this gods-forsaken world anyway.” And with that, he disappears into my bedroom and slams the door.

***

Chapter Text

***

Secure in his tower at the far western edge of the Cindersap Forrest, the man known to the nearby village as M. Rasmodius, Wizard, is again hunched over the item that fell from the sky naught but a few nights ago.

“Hmm...” he hummed as the item rotated before him, suspended within a magical force field that served to both keep it aloft and protect him from any unforeseen power surges that may spring from the object.

The item in question is a beautifully carved bloodstone pendant. The green and red stone is secured in a silver facet, once suspended by a now broken silver chain. To the common observer, the object is a mere bobble the size of a large chicken egg; a mere pretty necklace that has simply slipped from someone's neck, fallen to the ground, and lost. Forever forgotten.

However, to Rasmodius, Seeker of the Arcane Truths, Mediary between the physical and ethereal, Master of the Seven Elementals, and Keeper of the Sacred Charms, this seemingly inert 'bobble' holds secrets only dreamed of by the most powerful of magical practitioners.

And...it had come to him under strange circumstances.

A few nights ago, he had been conducting his usual arcane experiments here in the secluded sanctity of his tower, when it felt as though the very fabric of the world had rent asunder! The sensation had only lasted a moment, but being as knowledgeable as he was in all things magical, Rasmodius knew that something extraordinary – nay, otherworldly! - had just transpired.

Though he hadn't seen it (merely felt a surge of strange magic), he soon heard a loud rumbling through the area surrounding his tower. Safely reaching a point in his current experiment, he went to investigate.

What he had found steaming beside the small pond close to his tower, was this bloodstone necklace.

“The item is indeed magical in nature,” he muttered to himself as he thumbed through yet another thick book taken from his trove of tomes. “Yet I cannot identify the origin of this magic. How very strange...” his dark eyes glance through the pages as he flipped them. “It's almost as if... That's it!” he exclaimed, jumping from his chair in a rush of excitement. “It's almost as if it's-”

                                                                                                         ~Иot oʇ tʜiƨ woɿlb~

                                                                        ~plɹoʍ sᴉɥʇ ɟo ʇoN~

“What?!” Rasmodius gasped at the strange jumble of sounds. “Who are you?!” he demanded whirling from his workstation to peer into the darkening shadows as the words echoed around him, both forward and backward in a raging cacophony of crackling power and noise:

                                                                                                                                              ~ Иot~

                                                   ~ʇoN~

                                                                                                         ~Not~

                               ~oʇ ~

                                                                                 ~ɟo~

                                                                                                          ~of~

                                               ~ tʜiƨ~

                                                                                                                                                        ~sᴉɥʇ ~

                                                                                                          ~this~

                                                                                                                                                                                  ~ woɿlb~

                                                     ~plɹoʍ~

                                                                                                        ~world~

“Who are you?!” he cried again, cold terror clutching his heart.

The words continued to coalesce, finally spinning to form meaningful worlds as they bounced around in the darkness.

                                                                                            ~ Not of this world ~

“Show yourself, wicked creature!” Rasmodius declared as a flaming sphere appeared in his palm. Laughter now followed the forming of intelligible words. Before him, the bloodstone pendant continued to float innocuously in its magical prison.

However, now that the wizard looked closer, he saw that one facet of its seemingly smooth surface glimmered with a fantastical light – one of many colors...

...and of none.

“No..!” he exclaimed in a strangled voice, trying to back away, yet held by a grasp far greater than anything he thought possible.

                                                                                ~Yɘƨ~
                                                                        ~sǝ⅄~
                                                                                              ~Yes!~

The voice echoed, sultry and smooth as that of a lover, as slippery as the vilest of snakes...

                                                                 ~Hɘɒɿ mɘ~
                                                                                  ~ǝɯ ɹɐǝH~
                                                                                            ~Hear me~

An image flashed for a heartbeat – that of a beautiful woman dressed in the silk of night. Stars were her jewelry; fire and brimstone her eyes.

                                                          ~Ƨɘɘ mɘ~
                                                                                      ~ǝɯ ǝǝS~
                                                                                             ~See me~

Thoughts entered Rasmodius's mind – scenes of seduction and knowledge, of power. And the words grew ever-tantalizing. Seemingly without realizing it, his hand began drawing closer to the necklace.

                                                                                                               ~Know mɘ~
                                                                           ~ǝɯ ʍouʞ~
                                                                                            ~Know me~

All things within the wizard's mind fought to stay in order, for the lure of this creature's siren call was great. One of only a few times in his long life, Rasmodius struggled to maintain his own will.

                                                           ~uǝdO~
                                                                                               ~rof~
                                                                                                                               ~mɘ~

                                                                                          ~ Open for me! ~

“NO!!!” he screamed and managed to tear himself away. With a quickly-muttered incantation, Rasmodius called upon his vast well of magical power and reinforced the barrier surrounding the pendant with a force field that all but tapped his energy.

The alluring whispers quieted, and the colors went dark. But not before he thought he saw a glimpse of eyes staring back at him...

...eyes that he knew in his soul belonged to no mortal being in this world.

“Yoba, preserve me,” he muttered, stumbling to a wooden stool nearby. Wiping the back of his hand across his forehead, he realized he was drenched in sweat.

“What terror have I found..?”

Far across time and space, in another corner of a distant galaxy, so far removed that one would even say it existed in its own reality, a dark goddess sits upon her throne and smiles.

~Excellent~ she mused in a voice few mortal minds can comprehend. ~What a plump little world you have found, my darling pet. What weak little minds you've brought me to play with! Though you may have evaded my grasp thus far, it shall not be forever so~

Behind her, legions of demons screamed and hordes of dragons roared, their wings filling the gray sky with chromatic shadows all while wails of the damned filled the woman's soul with ecstasy.

~Wherever you go, I will always find you!~ she crooned as a sliver of bloodstone hovered before her eternal gaze, one facet smooth as if sheered from a greater whole. ~And whatever meager existence you carve for yourself there, I shall shatter it as you have shattered my dreams! You will have no rest until you atone for defying me...~

Even as she speaks, the woman's form has begun to shift, her beauty melting away into that of an enormous monstrosity with five heads, each the same color as one of the types of dragon singing her praise. As one, the five gaping maws open, as one they scream in rage the name of the one who is so deserving of her ire:

~Raistlin Majere!~

***

Chapter Text

***
FARMER
***

I left Raistlin to have his pout, befuddled as to what had gotten him into such a tizzy, and went to the garden to prepare a spot for the melon seeds that were my payment from Gunther at the Archaeology Center. If I had known there would be such useful rewards for finding the items he wanted, I would have been more diligent in my search thus far!

Well, better late than never. I guess.

I spend the rest of the afternoon hoeing, planting the seeds, and watering them before finally taking a break. Smiling to myself, I gaze at my garden plot, for it's almost double what it was last spring!

Despite my previous failures last season (and the bizarre way this one started), I felt the stirring of hopeful optimism rise in my chest.

I will admit, it's a strange feeling. But not an unwelcome one.

“Do well, my little seeds,” I say to them. With that, I return the tools to the shed as usual. Already, these motions are so routine that I don't even think about them.

My stomach rumbles loudly, reminding me I haven't eaten since breakfast. Not only that, my cramps are returning something fierce. Day two of shark week is always the worst...

“Time for a shower, some food, and drugs,” I say as I make my way back to the house. I round the corner and find Trixy on the porch, waiting with a dead shrew clenched in her jaws.

“Oh, no, you don't!” I scold. “You're not taking that inside!”

Trixy gives me a feline scowl before dropping the dead creature at my feet, seemingly understanding my ire. Opening the door, I allow her entry and grimace as I then proceed to hurl the carcass into the woods to join all her other catches.

“I wish you wouldn't show me all your kills,” I say and follow her inside. “But then again... I don't have a rodent problem,” I admit as I thoroughly wash my hands. Finding a glass of water, I fill it and enjoy a refreshing drink as my gaze roams around the house. It's quiet.

And my bedroom door is still shut.

Shrugging to myself, I continue with my day.

Halfway to the bathroom, I realize that – yet again! - I don't have a change of clean clothes. I'm really going to have to figure this living situation out. And soon!

Entering the bathroom, I deal with my lady issues and step into the shower, relishing as the lukewarm water cleans away the dirt and grime from my overheated muscles. As I soap my skin (being careful of the sunburn raging on my shoulders and neck), I think about the day's events and of my spaceman roommate. I didn't understand Raistlin, but I was pretty sure his confusion was what was causing him to act the way he was.

I guess I couldn't blame him for being a grouch and withdrawing earlier, all things considered. He was overwhelmed by all this strangeness and technology. He needed time to adjust.

If only there were something I could do to convince him that I meant no harm and that I wanted to help him figure things out and get back home as quickly as possible...

Then, a sudden thought hits me: Raistlin said he was born at the end of spring, meaning his birthday was only a short while ago.

Did he get a chance to celebrate before he was whisked away from his home and ended up here?

Had anyone given him gifts? What did he even like?

And for that matter, did he have friends or family looking for him? He had mentioned that he thought he had a brother, but were there others who missed him?

Did he have a significant other? A wife or partner? A lover? Children ?

Unsettled by these thoughts, I forgo washing my hair. Instead, hurry up and finish with a quick rinse. Toweling off, I get dressed in the same clothes I was wearing before.

“Well,” I say to myself as I enter the kitchen and find nothing has changed. Trixy was back at the front door wanting outside. Again. Raistlin was still shut away in my bedroom.

And I was still hungry.

“I guess it's up to me then...”

***
RAISTLIN
***

The man who called himself Raistlin Majere dreamed.

And deep within dreams, remembered...

~ ~ ~

~Books bound in night-blue leather containing secrets and power. Objects as vital to him as his beating heart: An orb. A bloodstone. A staff...~

                                                         All gone

~A handsome elf apprentice with ebony hair and ivory skin...~

                                                        Cast aside

~A tower (a home) in a dark, twisted forest beneath the eye of three moons...~

                                              Lost

~A cherished woman with midnight hair and gray eyes whose will rivaled his own...~

                                                        Betrayed

~A brother. A sword. A Twin.~

                                             Bonds severed

~And fire. Fire and rending claws. Blood and agony.. .~

                                             Death

                                                                 ...Silence...

~ ~ ~

As usual, the sound of the pipes rattling in the wall coaxed Raistlin from slumber. His body gave a start as if his soul was slammed back into it. He groggily blinked as consciousness tugged him back to reality, his mind muddled with vague images that slipped from his thoughts like sand through his fingers...

...Until all that remained was emptiness.

Minutes passed as Raistlin examined this sensation, let it fill him, let it settle and echo until it felt as though it was all he was...

As he did, the sound of running water ceased, replaced with muted sounds of his roommate as she exited the bathroom and went into the kitchen.

Finally sitting up, Raistlin rubbed his weary eyes and was shocked to find his face wet with tears. Irritated by them, he used a corner of the patchwork quilt to dry his face. After a moment, the tears slowed, and his face was dry, but the melancholy remained.

If the last few minutes left him with anything, it was knowing that he once had so much…

…but seemingly, threw it all away.

Lodged deep behind his breastbone, the feeling refused to leave Raistlin as he fully became aware of his surroundings and the events of the day returned.

He didn't know why being at the clinic this morning had upset him so. It was foolish, he knew. The Doctor there had indeed been kind and helpful. Gentle even. And he informed and explained everything that he was doing each step of the way, knowledge that Raistlin had soaked up and been appreciative of, even if he detested the invasion of his personal space.

The results of the tedious testing (while confusing) weren't all that surprising, and Raistlin suspected this was only the beginning of what was going to be a long road to finding out what was physically wrong with him and reversing it.

If that was even possible...

Despite his initial belief that nothing could be done for him, Raistlin had found the Doctor's upbeat optimism was infectious. There were answers out there. He just had to be patient.

But if there was one thing he had already figured out about himself, it was that he wasn't a patient person...

However, Raistlin had to admit that he did indeed already feel better. The IV fluids had done much to restore his vitality, and his nap had helped blot out the other things that bothered him...at least for a time. He was still no closer to understanding who he was, where he came from, or, for that matter, how he had come to be here. But he supposed that finding out his physical ailments went some way to console him.

It was then that the smell of food caught his attention. Erowyn was making supper, and his stomach gave a small gurgle in response. Though her cooking thus far had left much to be desired, Raistlin also supposed that things could be far worse.

“Caramon could be the one doing the cooking...” he muttered to himself, somehow recalling the crunchy texture to his scrambled eggs whenever his brother attempted his hand at breakfast. 

And then, somehow, the emptiness lessened. If only somewhat.

Deciding it did him no good to sit in here and spend his days pouting about things he couldn't change, Raistlin went to the door and opened it.

Only to be greeted with a loud “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” as a spray of colorful paper bits exploded in his face.

***
FARMER
***

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” I yell and fling a handful of tiny paper squares I had cut out of construction paper over Raistlin's head.

The effect was exactly as I expected, for Raistlin only stood there and glared at me through the colorful eruption.

“What are you screaming about?!” he finally groused once everything had settled. A heartbeat later, he vigorously shook his head in an attempt to dislodge the paper from it before brushing pieces off his shoulders. It looked like someone had vomited confetti all over him.

Which, I supposed, was technically true.

“Your birthday wasn't that long ago, right? So I thought we'd celebrate,” I explained. “Come on!” Grabbing his wrist, I pull Raistlin through the living room and into the kitchen where, on the table, awaits a meager meal of spaghetti and garden salads.

A small chocolate cake sits in the center of the spread, thirty-one candles all a blaze.

“See?”

Raistlin stares at the food on the table, clearly taken aback. Finally, he stirs and meets my expectant gaze. “Why are you doing this?” he asks.

“Doing what?”

“Being nice,” he adds, clearly suspicious of my sudden kindness. “I've done nothing to deserve it.”

“Because, like it or not,” I say and gently (but firmly) push him into his seat. “We're stuck together. So we might as well make the most of it!” I start dishing up a heaping plate of spaghetti for him.

“I know that you're a grouch, and you've already figured out that I can be a bitch, but that doesn't mean we need to be at one another's throats all the time,” I continue. Setting Raistlin's plate before him, I dish up one for myself and sit across from him.

“I'm not your enemy if you're not going to be mine. So we might as well try to make the best of this shitty situation!” I add, offering him a smile.

Raistlin merely blinks at me, a stupefied expression on that long, angular face of his. His hair is still messy from sleep, and his eyes are shadowed and slightly bloodshot as though his nap had been deep, yet not restful.

“Make a wish,” I add then, indicating the blazing cake sitting between us.

Raistlin tilts his head to the side, once more uncertain of what I'm asking due to his lack of knowledge regarding this world's customs.

“Blow out the candles, and make a wish,” I say, hoping my little laugh doesn't sound condescending. In a way, his naiveté is kind of refreshing. And... (I won't lie) strangely endearing.

“But don't tell me what it is! Otherwise, it won't come true,” I add as he leans towards the cake, inspecting it. “It isn't much,” I babble, watching him. “Just thrown together from a box of ingredients. Even so, I hope you like it.”

Raistlin's eyes flash to mine then, the candlelight making them shine gold - but without those disturbing hourglass pupils. He holds my gaze as he inhales a breath. Slowly, deliberately, he releases it in one long, quiet whoosh. The candle flames flicker and dance before, one by one, succumbing to the gale. He only breaks eye contact when he turns his attention to ensure all the flames are extinguished.

Sitting back in his chair, Raistlin simply says a quiet “Thank you.”

We ate supper in relative silence. Part of me is amused by watching Raistlin unsuccessfully try to wrangle the spaghetti noodles on his plate with his fork. I try to hide my smirk when I feel his gaze watching me as I twirl a helping of noodles and sauce onto my own utensil. A moment later, he mimics the motion, finally getting more than a few squirming threads into his mouth.

Between the soft sound of clinking silverware on plates, he awkwardly clears his throat and asks, “Did you get your garden sorted out?"

Wiping my mouth on my napkin, I nod. “Yes, I think so. I was given a packet of more melon seeds this morning, so I had to expand the plot and get those in as soon as I could.”

Raistlin nods and shifts in his seat uncomfortably as if something is weighing on his mind. Finally, he adds, “Once I am feeling more myself, I will help you around here and earn my keep.”

Sensing his sincerity for what it was, I bite the inside of my cheek to keep myself from snarkily pointing out that he didn't remember anything, so how would he know when he's more himself? Instead, I swirl the remaining noodles on my plate with my fork for a few silent moments.

“I appreciate it,” I finally say, and something in my voice must catch his attention.

“You didn't ask for me to crash-land into your life,” he says before I can clear up any misunderstanding of what I meant. “And my continued presence will be a strain on your finances, your food, and your living space. I refuse to be a burden on you, or on the people of this community. I will learn your ways and your technology – whatever I can so I better fit in. And...” He pauses for a moment, his gaze abstract and almost haunted as he rubs at a spot in the middle of his chest, unaware he's even doing it. “And if my memories do not return or I cannot find my way back to where I belong, then I will make my own way in this world. I will make the means to support myself and find a place to live out my days. However, until then,” his gaze finally returns to mine, the ice in them now thawed, their color more akin to the vastness of the sky, “I, unfortunately, will need your guidance.”

Raistlin holds a hand up, still stopping me from saying anything. “I may not know much about myself, but I do know that I am a man of my word. Besides, I think we've both realized that I'm just as stubborn as you are about things. As such, we may or may not get along as we adjust to being roommates. But I will try to not make your life miserable.”

“I'd like that,” I say, and mean it. I had said as much earlier, but hearing him speak the sentiment back to me was reassuring.

He takes a shaky breath and sits back in his chair. Running a hand over his eyes, Raistlin clears his throat. “I hate not being in control of my life, so I apologize for how I've acted thus far. And confessions such as these are not easy for me, but that's the truth of it. I'm trying to take things in stride,” he says, his voice soft, that haunted look returning. “I feel as though I'm here to atone...”

“Atone?”

Raistlin nods, and a stray piece of paper he missed fell out of his hair. He ignored it as his gaze went to the window. I got the feeling he was not seeing my garden.

“I...I was not a good person,” he says softly. So soft that I have to lean forward a bit to hear him. “I took so much and never gave. Never learned...” He blinks then, and the look suddenly vanishes, replaced by his usual, serious expression.

“That's all I'll say about the matter for now.”

I blink back. Raistlin's shift in tone never ceases to amaze me. And I don't know if his confession should alarm me or not. What did he mean – not a good person? What did he do? Who was he? What was he? The image of his golden skin and scary eyes fill my mind then, and I reflexively give a tiny gulp.

However, just as the memory of those eyes fills my mind, so too does the expanse of a sunset sky studded with twinkling stars – the very scene I pleaded with to send me help.

Grandfather wouldn't do me wrong by sending something dangerous...

Would he?

No. No, he wouldn't.

I had to believe that.

Finally, I give him a nod. “Very well.” Standing, I lean forward over the table. “Now, how about we dig into this cake?!”

***

Chapter Text

***
FARMER
***

Raistlin is as good as his word. After we finished eating – with him polishing off his salad, some spaghetti, and a few bites of his cake - he helped me clear the table and wash the dishes, observing where I kept every item so he could find it later on his own. As we worked, I realized that I had yet to look through the medical file still sitting on the counter. I also recall Dr. Harvey mentioning that Raistlin should keep a food journal.

Going to a drawer I call the 'junk graveyard', I pull it open and am once more greeted with an array of mismatched tools, keys that opened nothing, a stapler, rolls of various tape, pens and pencils, and a few flimsy notebooks.

“Here,” I say and pull out a notebook that's in better shape than all the others. “For you to keep notes on what foods might bother you,” I explain when Raistlin just stares at me.

He takes it with a nod and accepts a pen. I watch as he clicks the end, wondering where he had seen that done before. But then I remember how Dr. Harvey has an annoying habit of clicking his pen as he takes notes and thinks to himself.

“What was the food you made tonight called?” he asked. “I don't think I've ever eaten anything like it.”

“Well, the salad is pretty obvious,” I answer. “That was just lettuce and carrots with a vinaigrette dressing and shredded parmesan cheese. The main dish was called 'spaghetti'. It's known as a pasta dish, of which there are many varieties. This one was simple, made of noodles and a tomato-based sauce with basil and oregano. I didn't make anything from scratch,” I add, indicating the empty sauce jar on the counter waiting to be washed and thrown in the bin outside. “How did you like it?”

Raistlin shrugged a little. “It wasn't bad,” he admitted.

“And the cake? It was chocolate.”

“It was sweet. Rich,” he amends as he tests the pen on the paper, watching as the ink effortlessly flows from the writing utensil onto the page. “But fine. I was full by then.”

“Right. Well, if Dr. Harvey suspects you might be sensitive to a certain food, let me know if something I make bothers you so we can look over the ingredients. Hmmm...” I pause, considering something that I only just now realized. “The noodles today were made with gluten, which is a protein that a lot of people have issues with. I hope I didn't just poison you.” I picked up his file. “Do you mind if I read through this?”

He glances at me. “I already said you could.”

“I just wanted to make sure. You weren't in the best of moods earlier.” Before he can say something back, I hastily add, “Never mind that. We should go through my Grandfather's chest and see if there is anything in there for you to wear. I stopped at Emily's in town today; she had a catalog we can order some clothes for you from, but it'll take time for them to get here once we do.”

“Not to mention it'll use money you don't have,” he adds, holding my gaze and daring me to deny it.

I feel myself jutting my chin out as I say defensively, “That's none of your concern.”

“It is if it involves me. I may not be from your world, but I'm no fool. Things – and services – cost money. You've already spent much on me,” he says, indicating the toiletry items I bought for him yesterday, still sitting on the counter, “and I'm sure the charges from my exam today won't come cheap.”

“I'll make more money once the garden grows. Until then, I'll just put everything on my credit card and be extra diligent in scavenging things to sell. I'll make due,” I say and turn towards the hallway. I hear the notebook and pen slap lightly on the countertop, followed by the light tread of Raistlin's footsteps as he follows me down the hall.

Opening a small door beside the stacked washer and dryer located in a nook before the steps leading up to the attic, I crouch down and start pushing aside the array of brooms and mops that threaten to fall over and beam me in the head. Locating the handle of the old cedar chest, I give a heave.

Seeing me struggle, Raistlin hangs back, leaning against the bathroom door behind me, and manages to keep silent when it's not the brooms or mops to clunk me in the brain, but the dustpan! Muttering to myself and rubbing the lump on my noggin, I finally managed to drag the chest out from where I tucked it under the eve of the steps, pulling it until it was in the hallway.

“There,” I huff while flicking a pesky strand of hair that fell out of my bun away from my eyes. Squatting down, I click the latch and open the lid. The smell of cedar wood, leather, and musty old clothes wafted up to greet me fully in the face. For a moment, my heart lurches with the memory of Grandfather's treasured scent.

Clearing my throat, I lift out the books and albums that were stacked on top. They were mostly old ledgers in which he had kept records regarding the farm at its peak, and one or two photo albums filled with ancient images and newspaper cutouts. Grandmother was into that kind of thing, but she died not long after I was born, so I never got to know her. Feeling strangely sad that I couldn't appreciate the meticulous work she put into collecting the information in these books, I vowed to sit down one day and look over them.

One thing at a time.

Focusing on the task at hand, I dig around a bit and find a few of the shirts and slacks that were neatly folded at the bottom. “These were the clothes that were still in good shape when he passed away,” I explain as Raistlin crouches beside me, his gaze on the various items as I hang them over the chest's edge.

“My father couldn't bear to part with them and stashed them all away in here thinking that one day we'd get around to donating them. But this house sat empty for almost six years...” 

Silently, Raistlin takes a shirt from my seemingly lifeless fingers. Holding up before him, he inspects it carefully. It's a collared button-up of white and pink striped cotton that's still in good condition, despite the years of being crammed forgotten inside a chest. 

I shake myself and pull out a few pairs of trousers and overalls. Letting them fold open, I hold a pair up before Raistlin...

And it looks ginormous there, held up before his skinny frame!

“Hmm... Maybe Emily would be kind enough to tailor things down to fit better...” I mutter when Raistlin eyes me, silently confirming that he'd literally drown in those pants. “I guess Grandpa was a bigger man than I remember,” I say with an affectionate smile. “I think this would fit two of you!”

“Are you sure you don't mind?” Raistlin's voice draws me from my thoughts. “That I wear these, I mean. Especially if they need to be resewn.”

“Of course not,” I confirm. “Trust me, Grandfather would be the first to offer the clothes right off his back to someone in need. He'd hate knowing they're just sitting under the steps because we're too sentimental to let them go. Things going to waste was something he couldn't abide by.”

“Sounds like an intelligent man,” Raistlin said, his attention back on the shirt in his hands. I watch as he unbuttons it, his long fingers working at each little button, before putting it on. It's also huge on him. “At least there's no kittens on it,” he mutters as he inspects the pale pink color.

I stick my tongue out at him.

Raistlin surprises us both with a chuckle.

Turning my attention back to the remainder of the clothes, I decided to pull them all out. “And if you're worried about me being upset that we'll need to practically resew all these to fit you, it's fine. Like I said, Grandpa would want us to. Besides, you can't be wearing my T-shirts and pajama pants all the time. Especially if you're dead set on helping me in the garden.”

Once all the items are removed, I return the books and albums inside and shove the chest back into its spot, silently vowing to return to it soon.

“Let's go look at everything and see which will work best.”

***
RAISTLIN
***

By the time he and Erowyn had gone through the full extent of the dead man's clothes, selecting which would work for now and which were in desperate need of major tailoring, Raistlin felt a headache coming on.

That, and his stomach hurt.

“Next, you push this button here to start the machine,” Erowyn is saying, showing him how to run the clothes washer. They had both agreed that before they could be worn, all of the clothes needed a good, thorough wash. After having him change into a fresh T-shirt and new sweatpants, Erowyn also added what he had worn previously to the pile, as well as the discarded pair of underwear he didn't like, saying she'd try them as sleepwear.

She was an odd one.

Turning to him, Erowyn's brow suddenly furrowed as she studied his face. “Are you alright?”

Standing this close to her, Raistlin noted the faint peppering of freckles on Erowyn's sunburnt face as she looked up at him. It was then that he suddenly realized that she was quite a bit shorter than he, for her attitude thus far bespoke of someone far larger and stronger than what stood before him. And for a moment, he was taken aback by her slight stature and almost fragile appearance. The hallway still smelled of cedar chest, which only seemed to compliment the faint floral scent of her.

He sighed. “I have a headache,” he confessed. His stomach made a very angry sound then. So much so that the noise rumbled loudly in the confined space of the little hallway.

“That didn't sound good either,” Erowyn said with a frown. “Let me text Dr. Harvey. I have some medicine that might help, but I want to make sure they won't interact with what he prescribed.”

Raistlin nods and follows her into the kitchen where she picks up that strange little box she occasionally looks at or talks into. He sits at the table and watches as her fingers fly over its tiny buttons. They make little clicking sounds in response to her touch. Finally, a different sound chirps and she puts the thing down on the table between them.

“There,” she says. “Message sent. It shouldn't take long for him to respond. He's good about checking his phone.” She frowns as she studies him, and Raistlin finally really notices the strange lavender shade to her irises. With blue hair and purple eyes, she definitely was an odd one. Or, maybe, everyone in this world looked and acted odd.

Just then, Raistlin's stomach gave another angry rumble and he flinched a bit while involuntarily rubbing his abdomen.

“If you need to use the bathroom, don't let me stop you,” Erowyn says.

“I'm fine,” he mutters, feeling anything but.

Erowyn raises an eyebrow in response and purses her lips. “Maybe some peppermint tea will help while we wait for an answer from Dr. Harvey.” She doesn't even wait for Raistlin to respond before she's already heating the water kettle and finding mugs and packets of tea.

As she's rummaging around, Raistlin eyes the device sitting close by. Just then, it makes a chirping sound and the open surface of it lights up. Leaning closer, he sees words have appeared across it, but Erowyn's hand grabs it before he can make sense of it.

“I suppose you haven't seen a cell phone either, huh?” she asks as she checks the screen. “I'll show you it later.” With that, she goes silent, her eyes moving as she reads. After a moment, she says, “Dr. Harvey suggests we stay away from any over-the-counter medications for the time being. They might trigger your asthma.” With a frown, her fingers move again. “Well that sucks. I'll double-check the peppermint tea, just to be safe...”

Raistlin grits his teeth as she taps her fingers on the tabletop as she waits for the Doctor's reply. Mercifully, the other man does so quickly.

“He says the tea is okay to try.” And just as the words leave her mouth, the kettle starts steaming.

With more ease and grace than she's exhibited thus far, Erowyn removes it from the stove before it starts screeching (which Raistlin is silently thankful for), and fills the mugs with hot water.

“Here,” she says and sets it before him. “While you drink this, I'm going to go grab a bunch of clothes from my room so I don't have to interrupt you every time I need to change.”

Raistlin merely nods as he brings the mug to his lips, blowing softly to cool it before taking a sip. Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Erowyn leave. The device on the table lights up again with another annoyingly bright chirp. Raistlin finally sees the message.

Raistlin frowned at the strange symbols at the end of the message, unsure as to what they meant. He couldn't study it for long before the device went dark again. He tried flicking it, but the action only resulted in hurting his finger. How annoying.

Just then, Erowyn reappeared with a stack of clothes in her arms. Plopping them on the kitchen counter, she checked the now-dark device. Waking it back up, the reflection of its light shone in her eyes as she read.

“Oh! I think I do have some of that,” she said before disappearing down the hallway. A moment later, she returned with a small bottle rattling in her hand. Shaking out a pill, she held it out to Raistlin.

“Harvey said some antihistamine might help if it's a food reaction. I'm sorry,” she adds with a frown. “I didn't even think about how you've never had spaghetti before. I thought since you've been eating bread, it wouldn't bother you as much. Guess I was wrong.”

“Bread isn't always my first choice,” Raistlin admitted, taking the pill and washing it down with a sip of tea. “I guess I'm just used to feeling terrible after I eat.” He grimaces as another stomach pain sounds. “But I think you're right, an entirely new food seems to have made things much worse.”

“I'm sorry,” she says again. She grabs the medical file and bag of medication before joining him at the table again. Opening the manila folder, she starts going through the various sheets of paper. Raistlin watches in silence, waiting to see if her understanding of the terms inside would illuminate anything further.

When she doesn't say anything, Raistlin asks, “Well? What can you make of it?”

“It's official,” she sighs dramatically. “You've got a terminal case of grumpy-itis.”

His glare only amuses her.

“I'm kidding. Didn't Dr. Harvey explain things to you?”

“ He did,” Raistlin admitted. “But he doesn't know that I'm completely clueless as to what any of it means,” he says with a scowl. “Unlike you .”

Erowyn sips her tea as she considers. “Well I'm not a medical expert either, but from what I gather...” She lays the papers flat on the table between them. “Highest on his list - besides your asthma - is that you aren't absorbing food properly. Your weight is lower than medically recommended when compared to your height, so he suspects that either you have an eating disorder, or you have food allergies.”

“What qualifies as an eating disorder?”

“Some people simply don't eat enough. Or, if they do, they vomit it right back up,” she replied, her gaze not meeting his.

“Why would people do that?”

Erowyn shrugged. “It's found more in women because it's a way for them to stay skinny – societal and peer pressure, and all that. Mostly, they don't like their body or their mental image of themselves is warped,” she explained, her attention still on his file.

Raistlin felt his eyebrow raise. He went to open his mouth to comment that she seemed to be well-versed in such an issue, but Erowyn spoke first.

“Looks like he sent blood samples to a bigger lab in Zuzu City, one that specializes in food allergies. I wish I had known he suspected gluten intolerance.” Erowyn snapped the file closed and rubbed her eyes. “Stupid, stupid me.”

“It's not your fault,” Raistlin said. “Besides, if I don't eat the foods in the first place, then how will we find what bothers me?”

“True,” she sighed.

Silence stretched on for a while then. The calico cat made an appearance and demanded to be fed, to which the farmer complied with cooing words of adoration and an abundance of pets as the feline ate.

Then, Erowyn disappeared with her selection of clothes to find a spot to keep them while Raistlin used her room. She bustled around the house for a time – swept the paper up in front of her room, straightened the blankets and pillows on the couch, put his toiletry items away after (somewhat needlessly) explaining each one and how to use them, and attended to the clothes in the machines down the hall. Finally, she disappeared into the bathroom and closed the door.

Raistlin remained at the table. His tea was long gone, but he decided that he didn't need another helping as his headache was a bit better and his stomach had stopped screaming. Idly, he thumbed through the medical papers, reading things over and over as if expecting things to suddenly make sense. Frustrated, he closed it with a snap and turned his attention to the window.

Outside, the sky was starting to darken at the edges. Raistlin yawned just as Erowyn reappeared, dressed in different clothes. They were baggy and ill-fitting, but comfortable looking. One of her shoulders peeked out from the overly large rim of the shirt neck, revealing more angry red skin from her sunburn. Her long hair was braided, the plait hanging over the same shoulder as if trying to hide the already peeling skin.

“Well, what would you like to do now?” she asked, hands on her hips, again striking Raistlin as being larger than she actually was. “I can show you my cell phone, or one of the other things around the house – like my laptop or the TV.”

Again overwhelmed by all the terms he'd never heard before, Raistlin said rather sourly, “I think I'm going to get cleaned up and go to bed.”

She nodded then. “Sounds good. Don't forget to take your medications. Looks like Dr. Harvey wanted your next dose to be around now.”

Instead of being irritated at her constant reminders, Raistlin merely nods. “Shower first.”

“Suit yourself.”

Raistlin stood under the warm spray of water, fully absorbed in watching it swirl into the drain at his feet. Absently, his hand had returned to his chest, rubbing the ache that had persisted since waking this morning.

He had said he felt like he was here to atone... And like knowing his name, Raistlin felt this truth deep inside his bones.

He had spoken as such to Erowyn: Whoever he once was, he had not been a good person. 

What had compelled him to confess such a thing? Why compromise this tenuous position he found himself in? If Erowyn felt like he was a threat, Raistlin knew he wouldn't be able to stop her or the townsfolk from running him off.

Even though he had said this and knew it to be true, Raistlin still didn't particularly feel like a bad person. He had no harmful thoughts or urges, no desire to cause mayhem or to steal anything. Perhaps, he had to accept the possibility that would start to feel this way if his memories ever started to return.

However, something within Raistlin told him that wouldn't be the case. Besides, it was what he had said to Erowyn next that puzzled him the most: “ I took so much and never gave. Never learned...”

“What did I do?” Raistlin whispered quietly. He felt like the knowledge was - RIGHT! THERE! - just at the tip of his awareness. But his only answer was the sound of spraying water as it drummed softly over his head, soothing his headache and easing the tightness in his neck and shoulders.

These questions were stressing him out.

Forcing himself to take a breath, Raistlin slowly let it out and tried to release the built-up tension threatening to lock him up. There was nothing he could do about any of this. Instead, he resolved to focus on doing what he had promised to the woman who was gracious enough to take a stranger in...

He'd be of help on her farm and learn to live in this world if he couldn't find a way back to his.

Right now, that was all he could do.

***

Chapter Text

***
FARMER
***

“ DING-DING-DING!!”

“Ugh...” I groaned and rolled over, pulling my pillow over my head as if it would drown out the obnoxious sound of my stupid phone alarm.

“ GOOD MORNING !!” The alarm continued. “ BOWBOWBOWBOW!”

On the fourth play-through of the song, my bedroom door crashed open with such violence every wall-mounted picture in the house rattled.

“What in GOD'S NAME IS THAT RACKET?!”

“ IT'S A BEAUTIFUL DAY! ”

The pillow fell from my face as I scrambled for my phone. Clicking off the alarm, the room finally fell into silence. “Sorry,” I grumbled. “That's my alarm.”

Raistlin merely glares at me from the doorway, rightfully irritated. His long, white hair sits askew on his head and the old hand-me-down clothes donated by the townsfolk are a wrinkled mess on his skinny body.

“I forgot I had it turned up so loud,” I continued, yawning.

Ignoring my excuse, he shoots me one last murderous look before stomping to the kitchen like someone on a mission.

I sigh and sit up, rubbing my eyes as if it'd do anything to dispel the fog clouding my brain. The last few days had flown by, and Raistlin and I had (sort of) settled into some semblance of a routine as we tried to exist in relative harmony.

And I'm using the word 'relative' loosely...

At least we hadn't murdered one another.

Yet.

If there was one thing I had learned about my new roommate, it was that Raistlin needed his sleep and uninterrupted quiet time, else he was the biggest cranky bastard I had ever met in my thirty years of life! My annoying alarm clock was an affront to the sanctity of silence, and I was pretty sure he was probably in the kitchen sharpening the knives.

As I extract myself from the burrow of blankets and couch cushions, I hear the little TV in the kitchen turn on.

Oh, right. Forget revenge. Raistlin's show was about to start. He'd get to the knives later, I was sure.

After introducing the invention to him, I can't help but notice that he has since become a tad obsessed with television and everything it has to offer. So much so, that I took time the other day to dig around in the attic until I found the small one I had saved from my college years. Now, the device sits on the edge of the kitchen counter, nearly always on.

I enter the room to find Raistlin scanning through its few grainy channels in his quest to absorb information about this world. He clicks the knob a few more times before stopping on the cooking channel and then spares a moment to scratch Trixy behind the ear before the traitorous cat plops onto the laminate floor next to him. I glance at the clock: 6:15 am, the 'Queen of Sauce' is about to begin - Raistlin's favorite show.

- Greetings! - the hostess chirps in her usual bright pink outfit and white chef's hat. - It is I, the Queen of Sauce... here to teach you a new mouth-watering recipe from my secret cookbook. This week's dish -

I side-eye Raistlin as I fill my coffee mug. He's in his chair, pen poised above a new notebook as he readies to take notes, face so studious that I could laugh. A steaming mug of tea sits on the table along with a small bowl of oatmeal, both forgotten at his elbow.

- Baked Fish! - the TV continues as I rustle around in the fridge to find something to eat, scowling as I realize I need to go to Pierre's to restock my pantry. Settling on the last container of yogurt and some questionably fuzzy strawberries I find hidden in the far corner, I return from the pleasantly cool depths of the fridge's innards back into the kitchen.

It's so early in the morning and it's already hot. And muggy.

I hate summer!

Grumbling to myself, I rinse the strawberries and cut away the worst parts before joining Raistlin at the table. He doesn't even look at me as I do, so absorbed in his show is he. Since the incident with the spaghetti, he's taken it upon himself to make the majority of our meals, insisting he'd rather poison himself than have me do it, his reasoning being: “ At least I'd be more likely to survive if I understood what was being made!”

- Just make sure the fish is fresh, preferably caught with your own rod!- the queen continues, bustling around the fake and sterile set the show takes place on. -Now watch as I place the fish on a bed of spring greens... - She then proceeds to demonstrate her process as the camera cuts to a close-up of her workstation, resplendent with raw fish and an array of pre-cut vegetables and greens.

Raistlin is positively riveted to the screen. I roll my eyes and eat my shitty breakfast in silence, content to ignore him in turn.

The show ends and Raistlin finally stirs.

“Isn't there a fish vendor down by the shore?” he asks while finishing his notes.

“Yeah,” I responded after I threw the strawberries into the compost bin under the sink. They were in worse shape than I thought and I only ate about two before giving up, else risk food poisoning. “His name is Willy.”

“Does he sell fishing rods?”

Instead of answering, I go to the wall beside the front door. Tucked behind old coats and other items hanging there, sits the very rod Willy had gifted me when I first arrived in the Valley.

“Here,” I say, holding it out. “You can use mine.” When he just looks at me, I add, “I don't have the patience for fishing.”

“Color me shocked,” Raistlin says and takes the rod. His 'thank you' stops me from saying something nasty in response to his barb.

“If you need pointers or bait, Willy would be more than happy to provide them,” I add, refilling my coffee. It's definitely a two-cupper kind of morning.

Raistlin sets the rod against the table and likewise sips his tea, idly stirring his lumpy oatmeal with a free hand. “What's the agenda for the day?” he asks when his mouth is unoccupied.

Like his promise to help me around the house, Raistlin has also been true to his word around the farm. After assisting me with watering the crops, the last few days we've made good progress cutting down the extra trees at the edge of the yard and stacking wood piles.

“I'm pretty sure we've cut enough wood for Robin to build a chicken coop,” I say, going to my own notebook where (under Raistlin's insistence) I've been keeping notes about the farm and what I should do to improve it. I flip it open and slap it on the counter. “I just need more stone for the foundation,” I add, checking the numbers. Yep, I need about twenty-five more stones.

“I think it's supposed to rain one of these days,” I continue, rubbing my eyes again with a yawn. “If it does, I'll make a trip into the mines to get the rest of the stone. After that, it's just saving up to pay for the construction...” That was the biggest hurdle, for though the crops were starting to sprout, I still didn't have much faith that the plants would survive. In the meantime, we've both been scavenging the nearby forest for mushrooms and other sell-able summer delights.

Raistlin nods and changes the channel on the TV to the weather station.

- It's going to rain all day tomorrow - announces the weatherman.

“Well, there you have it,” Raistlin says before shoveling another spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth.

My answering snort shoots coffee into my nose and I almost die.

Once I can breathe, I throw Raistlin an equally murderous look because he did nothing but chew his oatmeal and watch me choke on coffee and spit. Pushing myself away from the counter, I stomp to the bathroom to put on my work clothes, muttering all the while about the fact that, maybe, I should be the one sharpening the knives...

“If it wasn't for his help, I'd gladly give his skinny ass a what-for!” Brushing through my tangled hair, I twist it up into a tight bun and tie it in place with several hairbands and pins. After brushing my teeth and splashing water on my face, I cake on a good layer of deodorant in each armpit. Yoba knows I'm going to need it today in this heat! Lastly, I inspect the skin on my poor shoulders. It's in that nasty peeling stage that makes me look like a zombie in the middle of molting layers of gross dry skin, but Harvey's ointment has done wonders to soothe it as it heals.

Exiting the bathroom, I find Raistlin back in the kitchen. He too has changed into some suitable work clothes. His overalls are baggy, but at least he's not getting lost in them. He even put one leg in each pant leg.

I pause a moment beside him as we both put on our boots. Like me, he must have plastered on a thick layer of deodorant to combat the funk that was sure to follow us home by the time we finished for the day. His was a milder scent than mine – a slight manly aroma of oak moss and cedar wood, but not overpowering. It added to the strange musk that I noticed always hung around him, one that reminded me of old books and incense with a hint of... roses?

His almost-irritated glance at me as he ties his hair back yanks me out of my revere and I quickly tie the laces on my last boot.

“Where did you get this thing anyway?” Raistlin grouses as he shakes open a shapeless straw hat before plopping it on his head. He's taken to wearing it after the sunscreen I had bought made him itchy. Because of this, it's long shirts and hats to keep the sun off him.

“I won the egg hunt this spring,” I stated proudly as I slathered on said sunscreen. It didn't bother me, so I had it all to myself.

His raised eyebrow had me elaborating. “There's an Egg Festival at the tail end of every Spring. They insisted I partake. And I won.”

“Against?”

“Jaz, Vincent-”

“The children who live with Marnie?”

“Abigail was also participating, so it wasn't all children!” I said, twisting as I rubbed sunscreen across my back above the edge of my tanktop. “Even against her, I kicked their asses!”

“You beat a bunch of kids at a child's game?” he asked incredulously.

I flashed him a grin. “Savage, ain't I?”

Raistlin rolled his eyes. “Petty more like.” A moment later (before I could turn around and punch him), he said, “You missed a spot.”

I couldn't ask where, for he had already reached out and was rubbing in a stubborn blob of sunscreen located at the back of my neck between my shoulder blades. I froze at the unfamiliar touch of his long-fingered hand, every muscle locking up before self-preservation took over and I quickly stepped away. Putting my back against the screen door, I could only stare at him with what could only be described as wild-eyed anxiety.

Raistlin stood there, his usually stoic face showing surprise. A rare sight indeed.

“I-I'm sorry,” he stammered, his outstretched hand dropping to his side. “I only meant to-”

“I know.” It took a lot of effort to appear relaxed, so I heaved a deep breath to calm my racing heart. Too much coffee, I told myself. But I knew it was anything but...

“I...” Another deep breath. “My last relationship wasn't a good one. I just don't like to be touched anymore,” I clumsily explain, even though it wasn't any of his business. But I knew he had only been trying to rub in the excess sunscreen and didn't mean to startle me.

However, my reaction was extreme. So much so that it even took me by surprise.

Stupid Donovan still having power over me...

“Sorry. That makes two of us, I guess,” Raistlin says and steps back, eyeing me with a strange look in those pale blue eyes. “I won't do it again.”

“It's fine. You didn't know,” I say and open the front door which gave a hideous screech because of the humidity. “Come on, we have a long day ahead of us.”

With that, we enter the muggy hell that is Summer in Stardew Valley.

***
RAISTLIN
***

Raistlin busied himself in a corner patch of the garden, weeding stray sprigs of grass between the budding heads of cauliflower. When he finished, he went to fill the watering can in the small watering hole by the trees. The tasks were simple and needed little thought or strenuous energy, so his mind was busy elsewhere.

Mainly on the interaction with Erowyn this morning.

In retrospect, his action was perhaps a tad too forward. The proper thing would have been to ask permission before touching her, but he hadn't even thought of it before doing so. It hadn't even been a week since he arrived here, and Raistlin knew that Erowyn was the jumpy sort. Even so, what made him feel comfortable enough to even think such a touch would be allowed?

He frowned as he recalled her hasty explanation - that a previous partner had not treated her well. No, not just that, for, judging by her reaction and the other clues Raistlin had picked up on recently, whatever had been done to her by someone else went further than just making her uncomfortable...

Raistlin's frown deepened when the mental image of long scars across the insides of both her forearms came into his mind's eye. He had first noticed them a couple of nights ago as they were sitting on the couch watching TV. Erowyn had reached forward for something and the setting sun through the window had shown on the pale marks. Raistlin may not have even noticed them, but the faint lines contrasted starkly against the rest of her sun-tanned skin.

Most interactions with Erowyn were either a battle of wills or spent in easy silence. They didn't speak much, besides what was necessary to coexist. Raistlin didn't pry into Erowyn's life, and she knew better than to pester him about his (which he still had no clue regarding). But there were things he had gleaned that needed no words - like her scars, the many unpacked boxes lining the walls of her home, and her avoidance of being touched...

She had survived more than a bad partner, it would seem.

Returning to the garden, Raistlin proceeded to water the area he had just weeded, his mind still sorting through the pieces of the last few days. To say that things were overwhelming would be an understatement.

Not only was there the shock of waking up in a world he knew was not his own there were also the customs and strangers to have to deal with. Word had spread throughout the town at lightning speed of his arrival and unfortunate 'loss of possessions', and just yesterday, Maru and her family had visited with a collection of donated clothing gathered from the townsfolk.

Shirts of various cuts and styles, pants and trousers (including cut-off ones they called 'shorts' that Raistlin had no intention of wearing), and a few pairs of shoes and boots now swelled Raistlin's meager pile of personal effects. In fact, there were enough items to fill his own drawer after Erowyn shuffled hers around and removed enough to make room. Where she put her excess items, Raistlin neither knew nor cared.

None of the donated clothes fit Raistlin particularly well, including the hand-me-down overalls he was currently wearing that once belonged to Demetrius, Maru's father. Even the items that once belonged to Maru's half-brother Sebastian weren't a great fit. The dark-haired young man was lanky as well, but, unfortunately, shorter than Raistlin.

However, the donated items were something, at least. And now with Erowyn's Grandfather's clothes and these new ones, Raistlin had enough to get by for both work and social occasions (not that he had plans on doing any of that!). And a promise from Emily (whom Raistlin had yet to meet in person) ensured that the worst-fitting articles could be tailored. They just had to meet up and get some measurements done – yet another thing he wasn't looking forward to.

Despite his prickly roommate, Raistlin found that he didn't mind the solitude this tiny farm in the middle of nowhere offered. It was quiet here; quaint, even. And something about helping and guiding this woman was strangely fulfilling. Clearly, Erowyn had no idea what she was doing – the uneven rows and haphazard seeding of her garden were proof of that. Even so, Raistlin had managed to suggest improvements to better utilize her time and energy (and future ways to plant) without offending her too much.

Finished with watering, Raistlin set the watering can down and stretched his back. Gazing across the lawn, he spotted Erowyn near the porch, wrestling something away from the cat. A moment later, he saw her grimace and throw something as hard as she could into the nearby tree line. Raistlin watched then as a dead mouse cartwheeled through the air, alight in the mid-morning sun. The sight of it was so absurd that he couldn't help but break out laughing.

“What's so funny?!” Erowyn yelled, her hands on her hips and that familiar scowl on her face.

Unable to convey how the ridiculous image of a spiraling mouse was the funniest thing that he'd ever seen, Raistlin just shook his head. Gathering the watering can, he took it to the shed and shut the door, chuckling as he shoved the cement block back in place.

One thing was certain about this new life of his: the solitude of it was balanced by moments of sheer absurdity. And that, he somehow knew, was vastly different than whatever life he had left behind.

***

Chapter Text

***
RAISTLIN
***

Raistlin woke to a steady pitter-patter of rain against the window. Again.

He sighed. This marked the third day in a row of rain.

Sitting up in bed, he rubbed his face with the palms of his hands before running them through his tangled hair. He gazed blurrily around the room – it was neat and orderly, the same as the rest of the house after spending the last two days dusting, organizing…anything to keep himself busy.

He sighed again. Who knew that life could be so boring ?

There simply wasn’t much for him to do when nature watered the crops!

And if he spent one more day trapped in this house, Raistlin was pretty sure he was going to scream.

Getting out of bed, he exited to find that Erowyn was already long gone. A note on the table confirmed she had gone to the mines again. A glance out the window revealed her pile of ore and stone stacked haphazardly against the shed, barely visible beyond the veil of falling rain. Raistlin eyed the large pile, estimating in his head how much was there. Erowyn had enough stone gathered for the foundation of a chicken coop now, but she wanted to have a surplus on hand. At least, that’s what her excuse was last he had seen her.

She had risen before dawn and hadn’t returned until well after nightfall the last couple of days. Raistlin had only seen her last night when he had gotten up to use the bathroom (too much tea during the day ensured he was well-hydrated). They had exchanged few words, for it was clear that she was exhausted from the day's efforts.

How her backpack carried so many heavy objects was incomprehensible to Raistlin, he thought as he tore his gaze away from the pile by the shed, yet there lay the proof from the past two days of her efforts. There had to be magic involved somehow, but Erowyn just shrugged and said that’s how bags worked.

Gods , she was annoying...

Sighing again, Raistlin helped himself to the coffee she had already started before she left. It was rich and dark and bitter, but Raistlin had to admit, the stuff was growing on him. Turning on the little television on the counter, he sipped as he flipped through the channels. His favorite cooking show was a repeat from a few days ago.

As the Queen of Sauce went on about her recipe for Baked Fish, Raistlin made himself some oatmeal. A meow at his feet drew his attention. “Morning, Trixy,” he said as he took his seat at the table. The gray calico jumped into his lap before he had time to settle.

Raistlin found he didn’t mind the company and scratched the feline behind her ear as he absentmindedly listened to the television and ate his breakfast.

He sighed again.

Boring!

He finished his oatmeal just as the cooking show ended. He turned the channel to the weather. - ...the rains are expected to lessen by noon, stopping altogether for a sunny sunset!- the weatherman chirped. Raistlin looked out the window again to find the man was right, the rain was already considerably lighter than it was when he had gotten up.

Flipping the channel again, he settled on a show he had only just found yesterday, one that shared tips and tricks for catching fish in the Valley. - Oy! Better get out there while the rains be falling. Then, Red Snappers only appear close to the ocean’s shore during rainy days!- the man on the screen declared.

Raistlin’s gaze drifted to Erowyn’s fishing pole, still standing beside the screen door. She had also left him a (poorly) hand-drawn map of the town and its surrounding area. He was pretty sure he’d be able to make his way to the docks on his own.

Scratching Trixy behind the ear again, he said, “How about some fish for dinner tonight?” She purred loudly in response. “It’s a date then,” he said with a smile.

***

The sudden ~CREAK!~ of a loose plank on the pier was the only indication that Raistlin was about to have a visitor. Thinking it was the old man Willy coming to check on his progress, Raistlin turned to greet him.

He paused when the man coming toward him was anything but the old fishmonger!

Tall, lanky, and ridiculously handsome (a part of Raistlin’s brain noted), the new arrival had long, brown hair and downcast eyes as he made his way along the dock to where Raistlin had set up position since mid-morning. The man was so deep in his own thoughts that he didn’t even notice he was invading someone else’s space as he stopped at the end of the pier. Leaning against the railing, he heaved a sigh that could only be labeled as ‘dreamy’ as he gazed out to sea.

Raistlin cleared his throat.

When the man didn’t respond, he did it again, louder.

“Hmm?” The man’s gaze idly turned and met Raistlin’s. He started in shock. “My apologies, good sir!” he stammered, heat flushing his cheeks as his deeply green eyes widened. He stepped back (because he was nearly standing in Raistlin’s fishing pail!), and cleared his throat. “I didn’t see you there!”

“Clearly,” Raistlin said, grabbing his half-full pail and setting on the other side of him so the other man didn’t inadvertently upset it in his inattentiveness. Raistlin felt as though the man watched his every movement as if it were the most fascinating thing in existence.

“Elliot, by the way,” the man said, holding his hand out after Raistlin had finished moving his things to a safer position.

“Raistlin,” he returned and, after a moment's hesitation, shook the hand.

A smile and flash of recognition ignited in those emerald eyes. “Ah, the Farmer’s friend,” Elliot said. His voice had a deep and soothing timbre about it that tickled at the edges of Raistlin’s memory; as if he once knew someone who spoke in much the same way.

Raistlin raised an eyebrow at the moniker ‘Farmer’, for he knew danged well that she was far from such a label. Regardless, he said, “Yes.”

Elliot brushed a strand of long hair behind his ear from where the ocean breeze had dislodged it. “Good to finally put a face to the mysterious fellow come to visit our solitary Farmer,” he said. “She seems rather lonely out there all by herself. It’s nice she has some company.”

Raistlin didn’t know what to think about that statement. “I’m just visiting,” he said finally. “Erowyn and I are old college friends.”

“So the tales told around town say,” Elliot said and raked his thoughtful gaze across Raistlin. “You like to fish?” he asked with a tilt of his head towards Raistlin’s gear as he once again leaned on the wooden railing.

Raistlin shrugged, more flustered than he cared to admit by that assessing, emerald gaze. “I only just started,” he said, eyeing the few fish still sadly flopping at the bottom of his pail. None of them were the elusive Red Snapper the television promised.

“Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not the fish they seek,” Elliot said. His eyes widened. Reaching into his red jacket, he pulled out a small notebook and started scribbling. “That’s a good one,” he muttered to himself. He began tapping the end of the pen on his lips, his gaze back out on the waves, seemingly completely forgetting that Raistlin was even there.

Raistlin could only blink. Indeed, he was baffled by this man – by everyone in this town, in fact! He watched Elliot for a moment out of the corner of his eye as he cast another line into the water, the feeling as if he had once known someone similar still tugging at the edges of his memory.

They stood like that for many, many minutes, that impromptu phrase burrowing deep into each of their thoughts. Yes, Raistlin scowled to himself, whoever this man was, he certainly had a way with words.

As his mind stilled and the automatic rhythm of tugging at the line, testing it, and teasing the fish below with wriggling bait continued, Raistlin’s thoughts opened and wandered…

~A handsome elf with ebony hair, dressed in black robes decorated with runes of silver… His dark eyes regarded him with a smile that held secrets and treachery both...and his words were smooth as honey laced with poison...~

Raistlin blinked. Turning, he found that Elliot was still standing a few feet from him. The ocean breeze was playing with the man’s hair, and the sunlight peaking through the clouds shone upon the strands to reveal hints of auburn within the shade. At that moment, Elliot turned and found Raistlin staring. He smiled…

And unlike the elf from Raistlin’s memory, there was no hint of secrets of treachery to be found in the other man’s warm expression.

“I’ve enjoyed our time together, Raistlin,” Elliot said, his voice all honey and no poison. “However, I must leave you now to the rest of your fishing.” He tilted his head to shore to where a small dwelling sat on the sand. “My cabin is there; my sanctuary and place I spent most of my time.”

“Ah...looks nice,” Raistlin stammered, unsure of how to respond.

Elliot flashed a smile revealing a row of white, perfect teeth and small dimples on his cheeks. “I’m glad I took a break from my writing and ventured out today, for I would have missed you otherwise. I’m glad to have met another soul who appreciates the moments of silence.”

Again at a loss for words, Raistlin merely nodded.

And, just like that, Elliot drifted off along the dock. The creaking boards did not seem to bother him as he seemingly stepped on every single loose one, his mind already miles away.

Returning to his fishing, Raistlin shook his head.

***
FARMER
***

Every single cell in my body screamed at me for rest, and the wound on my forearm burned like hell when the spray of hot water from the shower hit it. Biting my lip to keep from screaming, I thrust the offending appendage out the shower curtain to keep it from getting wet.

~You should get some stitches in that~ that always annoying voice in my head nagged. ~It’s going to get infected...~

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled and did my best to wash the dirt and grim from the mines off my skin. “I’ll do it tomorrow.” It was a lie. I knew it, and so did the nagging voice. But it kept quiet for now.

Besides, I wasn’t about to bug Dr. Harvey for this little scratch. I had cleaned it as best I could last night and wrapped it in gauze, but it still had gotten sweaty and dirty from the day’s activity. It looked nasty, sure, but it just needed a few days of clean bandages and ointment and it’d be fine.

Rinsing the shampoo from my hair, I turned the heat of the water down and brought my arm back in. Dammit, the voice was right...it did look infected. Sighing, I lathered antibiotic soap and gently washed the ragged wound, wincing as I did.

Stupid cave flies, they were as big as my head and flew faster than I could swing my rusty old sword! And all I had to show for this nasty cut that one had given me was a handful of bug meat...

Oh well, even that I could sell to Willy. He was known for making bug meat into fishing bait.

Scrubbing the wound had caused it to start bleeding again. Which was good, I figured. It’d flush out all the nasties.

Grabbing a towel, I wrapped my oozing forearm to keep it from turning my bathroom into a crime scene and got out of the shower. Drying off with another towel, I caught a glimpse of my bruised body in the mirror. The past few days of dungeon-delving had done a number on me!

Sighing again, I threw on a clean tank top and panties and made my way to bed. Every muscle in my back and shoulders ached from mining, and my legs screamed from all the climbing and carrying extra weight all the way home. I just needed to sleep. Desperately.

Sliding into bed, I settle in, not bothering to climb under the covers. It was too damned hot for that. Pressing my cheek into the cool surface of my pillow, I felt sweet, sweet unconsciousness tug me under.

A very loud, and male, AHEM!, had me flying out of bed.

Grabbing the closest thing to me (one of my nightstand lamps) I brandished it out before me as if it were my rusty sword. “Who’s there!” I cry to the shape moving in my bed.

The lump shifted and reached out to turn on the lamp on the other side of the bed. Light flared to reveal a very cranky-looking man with white hair staring back at me!

I blinked in a confused, hazy stupor at him, just as he blinked at me through sleep.

After several frantic heartbeats, his identity finally clicked.

“For fucks sake, Raistlin, you scared the shit out of me!” I said, sagging against my dresser with my other hand over my chest in an attempt to keep my heart from bursting out.

He raised an eyebrow. “I could say the same. You’re the one climbing into bed with me, waking me out of a dead sleep,” he groused as he rubbed the sleep from his eyes.

I looked around, dazed. I was in my bedroom, not on the couch.

SHIT.

I met Raistlin’s gaze and saw his wide eyes quickly dart away. Looking down, I suddenly realized that the indecent state of my undress was fully illuminated by the lamp clenched in my hand like a club. Cheeks flaring red, I quickly shut the lamp off. Both lamps were on the same circuit, so the room went dark.

“Sorry,” I mumbled, glad for the darkness hiding my flaming blush. My tank top and undies were old, faded, and -most embarrassing- so thin they were practically see-through!

He. Had. Seen. EVERYTHING!

Setting the lamp back on the nightstand, I said, “I got turned around. I’ll go back to the couch.” I turned to go, so embarrassed that it was more likely I’d go find a hole out in the forest to die in.

“No,” Raistlin’s voice halted me in the doorway. “This is your bed, and you’re exhausted. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

“No, that’s-” I tried to say, but he had already risen and was making his way around the bed toward me.

“I’ve invaded your space long enough. It’s time I stop,” Raistlin said. His gaze was held straight ahead as to not look at me and my pitiful attempt to hide my near-nudity behind my scrawny arms as he pushed passed me. A moment later, he flopped down onto the couch and started busying himself with the pillows and blankets there, clearly as flustered as I was by the whole encounter.

I swallowed hard, every inch of me burning with embarrassment. “O-okay…” I mumbled back. I was too tired to even think, much less process what just happened.

“Goodnight, Erowyn,” I heard him mumble.

“Night.”

I shut my bedroom door.

***