Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

She’s unconscious. Sprawled out like a child taking a nap wrapped up in what appears to be a large purple trench coat.

The woman is completely unconscious.

Chrom did not intend to trip over an unconscious woman after picking up his sister and friend to grab a drink. He had intended to leave the office with Fredrick, grab Lissa from the hospital, meet up with some friends at the pub and then stroll home. But no, he had to cut through the park because it’s just across the way! Now Chrom pays for his impatience with grass stains and muddy shoes while Lissa looks for head injuries.

The woman doesn’t smell like booze nor look like the usual homeless that habituate the park. Chances are she’s hurt and Chrom is not heartless – a little less attentive than Lissa and Emmeryn - just impatient. So he mopes while he waits for Lissa to do what she’s trained to do.

“What do you suppose we do?” he asks. Lissa hunches over the woman, checking this and testing that; Chrom decides to join her in hovering. Frederick keeps his distance.

She brushes hair from the woman’s face and pouts, “I …I don’t know. Call an ambulance?” Lissa looks to Frederick for input.

The woman stirs.

She groans, catching Lissa’s attention once again. There’s a struggle behind her eyes - he can see it, and suddenly a set of large brown pools are upon him.

She looks very very lost.

“I see you’re awake now,” Chrom says, offering a smile.

The woman looks confused and even a little scared when she squints up at him. She flinches inward, as one would when waking up to three strangers gathered around your place of rest.

Lissa greets her with a light “hey there,” and a smile, stealing the attention of their new acquaintance from him. It doesn’t last though, as her eyes are darting everywhere in their sluggish haze trying to figure out where in god’s name she had ended up.

“There are better places to take a nap than on the ground you know,” he starts in a soft tone. Her attention focuses on him and again he’s drawn in by those eyes. Chrom was hoping for a laugh, or even a chuckle but she just stares at him, drowsy and startled all at once.

“Give me your hand.”

So he smiles again, and offers his hand. Her grip is strong and he catches a glimpse of what looks like a tattoo or a intricate birthmark – another mystery she’s draped herself in.

She smiles.

Chapter Text

“Family name?”

Somewhere, she thinks. Somewhere in her mind is the answer. It’s a simple question, one that Robin feels like she knows – as if it’s on the tip of her tongue – but when she moves to speak nothing comes to mind.

“Uhm…”

The carpet becomes the most interesting thing in the room. It holds Robin’s attention captive as she wrings her fingers in the material of her slacks.

The officer has the decency to pretend to be busy by shuffling some paperwork around while she fumbles for an answer.

The officer clears his throat. Robin swallows. She thinks this is one of the most awkward moments she has ever lived through, but she wouldn't know would she?

She doesn't even know her last name.

A sigh comes from the desk and Robin feels it is impolite to stare at the floor any longer. “Look,” he grunts, “Gregor sees that this is not easy question for lady, yes?”

He looks to be kind man but his appearance is intimidating. Everything has been so overwhelming as of late that she only manages to nod.

“You take offer!” he cries. She’s not exactly sure what he is referring to. “Take offer and let officers do the remembering! Lady needs time for the fornication of memories –“

“I think you mean formation –“

“Yes!” he cries, too excited by her understanding of his broken English to be embarrassed by his verbal blunder. “You need time for formation of old memories.”

“Man with blue hair offer you a place to stay, no?”

Robin stares out the window into the lobby, observing her trio of saviors as they shuffle around the office.

“Gregor advises that lady takes offer –“

Chrom talks on his cellphone, and knocks over a cup of pens while trying to switch hands. Lissa has passed out in the waiting room chairs, her head titled backwards in what Robin assumes is a rather comical snore. Frederick chats up the attending officer.

“Let officers do the searching –“

She wonders what she would do to pass the time.

“– and no worry about things that are lost.”

But she doesn't know herself well enough to answer.