Back to You, A. E.
Disclaimer: I don't own Linkin Park (although I'd love to have a day with Mikey all to myself!), or anything associated with them. The story is mine, though, and any extra characters that appear. The "Ramos" are a military group that overthrew the U.S. government, and this whole story is set way into the future.
1 Part Two: Reunion
I blinked slowly, the sunlight streaming in from the windows burning my eyes. I had no idea how long I'd been out. The walls were a light blue color, the trim white. It was all so different than K compound. At least here, I had a bed. I tried to move, but found my limbs to be quite sore. Blinking a bit more, I turned my head. There were pictures on the wall. Most of them contained six young men, all smiling and looking happy to be wherever they were. I studied each face carefully, then nearly rolled off the bed.
There, beside the golden-haired boy that had taken me in, was my face.
I let my gaze travel further down the wall to the next picture, one of myself and the boy, our arms wrapped about each other's shoulders. I was grinning up a storm, but somehow, it didn't seem like me.
I couldn't remember being that happy. The last time I smiled was when they marched us back in from the battlefield and we each got a drink of beer. It was the first I'd had since being taken. Lifting my head from the pillow, I told myself it didn't hurt so bad, and managed to struggle into a sitting position. I stumbled off the bed and over to the picture. Running my fingers over it, I smiled. We looked like we were on top of the world.
Footsteps coming up the stairs. I whirled, my hand reaching for my gun. Looking down, I realized I was only wearing a pair of weathered sweat pants. A shiver of fear ran up my spine until the door opened and I saw that head peeking around. He smiled, and the expression lit up the room.
"Hi," he murmured, moving into the room. I studied him quietly, from the beaten up Doc Martens on his feet to the lip ring on his bottom lip. His wrists were tattooed, red and green flames dancing midway up his arms. He wore blue jeans and a plain white t-shirt. I almost laughed. Ramos protocol. No malls anymore, just plain t-shirts and jeans for everyone that isn't a soldier. He frowned, seeing my smirk. I did laugh, then, at his innocence.
"What's your name?" I asked. I didn't see a number on his wrist, so I knew he hadn't been 'changed.' He frowned again.
"Mike, come on…I'm your best friend. Don't pull this shit, man," he begged.
My best friend? Fuck, I had no idea who the kid was or how he knew my name. I scowled at him, letting him know I wasn't happy at all.
"Ches…it's Chester," he replied quietly.
I racked my brain for that name, and at last, it struck a chord. When I tried to pull the memory forward, though, the chip started to buzz and vibrate. I screamed and dropped to the floor, leaning onto my arms. Nausea rose in the pit of my stomach, and I heaved once or twice. Thinking I felt his hand on my back, I sat up, my eyes wide.
"Mikey…shhh…it's all right," he cooed, rubbing my shoulder gently.
I wanted to believe him, I really did. He knew me. Evidently, my body knew his touch as well. I felt myself relaxing beneath his gentle ministrations, and finally sat back on my knees, watching his face. His voice was calming, and the chip finally stopped its scolding. I vowed not to try to bring back more memories just yet. But then, I needed to know who I was and who those men in the pictures were. My confusion must have been apparent, because he took my hands and lifted me effortlessly to face him. He walked with my over to the bed and sat next to me, his eyes looking wistfully to the pictures on the wall.
"That was two thousand one," he began slowly. "Five years ago…"
I looked at him like he was nuts. Five years? All this destruction and war in five years? Man, that chip must've really fucked me up. It seemed like fifteen years. He smiled, confused, at my expression. I shook my head, and turned my gaze back to the pictures.
"We were in a band together, called Linkin Park," he sighed. Tears welled up in his eyes. "We were on top of the world. We won a Grammy not long after, and then…you were taken away. So were Rob, Dave, Brad, and Joe," he sobbed quietly. I assumed that they were the guys in the photo. I put my hand on his shoulder, unsure of what to say. I didn't remember any of them. Kinda wish I did, cause they look like they'd be real nice.
"Chester?" I ask, my voice unsteady.
His brown eyes turn to look at me. He heavs a sigh as he looks at me, and I suddenly wonder if I've done something wrong. Looking down, I see a wedding band on his finger. I feel as if I've been kicked in the gut now for some reason.
"Anna's dead, Mike. I'm sorry!" he cried, falling onto me. I held him as he sobbed, and wondered momentarily who Anna was. I remember a pretty face streaked with tears just before I was knocked out by the butt of the gun. I could close my eyes and picture her screaming at me, calling my name desperately, and the soldiers holding her back. I remember a gunshot. I remember Anna.
"Oh, Christ," I murmur, fisting Chester's t-shirt in my hands.
He looks up at me, his eyes moist. "You remember her?" he asks. I squeeze my eyes shut and nod as the vibrating starts up again. I groan, and he looks worried. He holds my face in his hands, shaking it slightly and calling my name. I open my eyes, groaning again.
"Mike? Mikey!" Look at him blankly so he stops yelling. The yelling is too loud.
"Wha…?"
"What's wrong with you?" he cries, getting to his knees on the bed in front of me. Shut eyes again. Pain. Lots of pain. I claw at my shoulder with the nubs of fingernails that I have, tears streaming from my eyes. I open them finally, trying to forget the girl and how it hurt to leave her. I hadn't realized at the time that it was her they shot. Stare at him, be receptive.
"The disc," I choke.
"What disc?" he asks, his eyes crazy-like. He looks me over, seeming to search from something. I tap my fingers over the tiny white scar that runs just by my neck. It's barely visible now.
"There's…a chip…in my shoulder here," I mumble. "It vibrates when I try to remember things."
"Can we take it out?"
I don't know. They never told us if it was possible, just that if we tried, we would die without it. And no thank you, I didn't want that. I look at him again, this time letting my desperation show plainly. He hugs me tightly to him for a moment, and it feels nice to finally be cared about rather than left to die on a fucking battlefield. I leaned into his embrace, finally letting myself cry. I didn't even remember that I could. There wasn't much that I remembered, but Anna was one of those things. I suppose it came from being together so long. Though, if that's true, I don't understand why I can't remember the other guys.
Pulling back, I grab his hand, and turn the gold band.
"What's that?" I asked.
He looks down at it, and slips it off his finger slowly. Tossing it lightly in his palm, he smiles slightly. "Samantha," he murmurs. After a moment's pause, he looks up at me again. "My wife. She was taken for some reason. Then, they sent me a letter saying she was dead." He shrugs, forcing a brave smile onto his face. I put a hand on his shoulder again, and this time he looks at me fully.
"Chester, please…help me remember," I bed, staring at him.
