Chapter Text
And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be
Right in front of me
Marina wakes slowly, breathing in deep through her nose. There's an irritating beeping noise coming from somewhere to her right, making her scrunch her face in annoyance. And immediately regrets it, as the shift in expression makes her skin pull at something on her forehead, the sudden sting making her hiss through clenched teeth.
What sounds like a chair scraping across linoleum makes her startle, eyes opening as she looks to her left, mouth dropping open slightly at the sight of a man.
He's half out of the low chair, hand held so tightly to the side rail of her bed that his knuckles are white. A colourful sleeve decorates his thickly muscled arm, disappearing beneath his wrinkled shirt. He's handsome, in a rugged way, and her breath leaves her in a short gust as she locks eyes with him.
He's staring at her with a sort of reverence, combined with naked relief. It makes her want to shrink away, or hide under the blanket. She quickly averts her eyes, nervous energy making her shift her weight beneath the light blanket.
She's in a hospital room, she realizes as fear begins to turn her veins cold. Bland art on the wall, a needle hooked to her arm, the whole nine. A lovely stranger looking at her like she's hung the bloody moon is new, but hey. Glass half full. Her arm is pressed tight to her chest, covered in thick bandages that tie over her shoulder and across her ribs. She tries to focus, tries to think. She remembers - she remembers -
Why doesn't she remember?
"You still with me?" He asks, making her startle once more. Mari glances at him, bottom lip caught between her teeth.
"Sorry, just," she shakes her head, chuckling breathlessly as she brings a hand to her temple. Her fingers meet something rough, and she realizes there's a bandage and gauze wrapped around her head. What the hell happened?
She glances back at the man, blinking rapidly. "Are you my doctor?"
He chuckles, the sound strained. "You could say that, sweetheart."
Mari straightens, brows furrowing. "Excuse me?" Panic hits deeper, now. He's still staring at her, even as she shifts as far from him as she can, hip hitting the rail on the far side of the bed. His expression falls, mouth dropping open. Mari's chest heaves, skittish as a rabbit as she realizes she's very alone, and very vulnerable, with a man she doesn't know.
"Mari," he says her name slowly, leaning back in his chair to give her space. She appreciates that, in some small way. "Do you know who I am?"
The fear in his voice makes her more afraid, too. She opens her mouth, closes it again. No words will form, so instead she shakes her head.
He almost deflates in his chair, hand pressed hard to his mouth as his eyes fall shut. A part of her feels guilty - but she doesn't understand why.
The door suddenly opens and Mari is grateful, head still spinning. A tall woman with short blonde hair appears, smiling softly with a clipboard pressed to her chest.
"Glad to see you awake, Miss Velum -"
She's already shaking her head, more habit than anything else. "Just Marina," she says, right at the same moment the man next to her says "It's just V."
She whips her head to look at him, irritation bubbling within her chest. He's staring at her in such a way that she feels her face flame; disbelief and the same sort of heartbreak from earlier.
"Well. Marina, then," the doctor interrupts, looking between them with a thin brow arched. "I suspected something like this," she says, mostly to herself before muttering too low for Mari to make out. She thinks she may have caught the phrase acute retrograde amnesia and feels like she might be violently ill.
The doctor busies herself checking Mari's vitals, allowing her time to swallow down her scream. She focuses on the far wall, free hand clenched into a tight fist. She cant look at the man, cant afford to even consider just what the fuck is happening to her. Amnesia keeps echoing in her head like a broken record, and she chuckles in disbelief. It's impossible, it's just. Not fucking possible. This is the kind of shit in bad movies, not her goddamn life.
"Could you tell me what year it is?" The doctor interrupts her spiraling thoughts, and Mari blinks up at her.
"It's -" She had it, it's right at the tip of her tongue. Frustration makes her brows furrow, her head beginning to ache. She remembers ... She tries to think back, think of anything from the past months that might -
"Oh!" She says suddenly, grinning as relief makes her sag against the pillow. Her birthday; she remembers her birthday party. It was a big one; the Coyote packed to full, all her friends in one place with drinks freely flowing.
She beams up at the doctor, sighing wistfully. "It's 2075. I remembered my 25th birthday," she says with a laugh.
No one else is laughing. Mari thinks the temperature in the room may have dropped, she goes cold so fast.
The doctor is kind enough not to burst her bubble any further, instead giving her a small and indulgent smile before she takes in a deep breath.
"You took a swan dive off a second story balcony," the doctor says, smile flickering as Mari gasps, shoulders flinching. "Witnesses saw you fall, land in an alley on a pile of trash. Took a nasty hit to the head, and dislocated your shoulder. Other than that, your back is bruised to hell, but you should be out of here soon." She's succinct, no-nonsense and free of bullshit. Mari doesn't know if she hates that or appreciates it.
"A knock to the back of the head wouldn't cause amnesia," the man responds before she can, still watching her.
"No," the doctor agrees with a small sigh. "But a stroke would. I'm guessing that's what caused her to fall."
The conversation delves into medical jargon that she cant hope to keep up with, so Mari lets their voices fade to background noise as she eases herself back in bed, head spinning wildly. It feels almost like a dream; like she's watching this happen through a fog-covered window, and the girl in the bed is someone who looks like her, sounds like her, but cant cant be her. She doesn't remember what she doesn't remember and that alone is enough to make her slam a fist into the bed as her breath starts coming in gasps, tears burning her eyes as her throat suddenly goes raw from the force of her scream.
Not a dream, perhaps. But a nightmare.
The doctor rushes to stick a syringe in her arm, telling her to calm down. Mari doesn't have the energy to fight back, terrified at what her mind is doing to her. Hands push her down onto the bed and the last thing she sees before the drugs knock her out is the look on the man's face, her own pain reflected back at her in deep green eyes.