ME: Lost

Vancouver

Memory, a stubborn flame that fuels our short existence. It guides our steps, strengthens our resolve, and continues our story long after we fade away.

Lt. Kaidan Alenko loved Vancouver. The crisp coldness of the air. The green of the trees, the blue of the sky, colors so bright it hurt his eyes. Most of all, he loved his parents. His tall silent dad, small soft mom, and their remote cabin a couple hours outside the big city. They were his anchor, a safe port in the storm of military life.

He spent many evenings slouched comfortably in the worn dock chair. Same green jacket, a gift from his mother several Christmases ago, the frayed collar and worn elbows hinting at regular use. The same gray ball cap, faded logo so scuffed that no one remembered what team it once championed. Often this ensemble was accompanied by a well worn fishing pole; always by a cold beer. Routine, habit, sameness. In these situations Kaidan Alenko thrived.

Sometimes his dad kept him company. A calming presence. Never asking about his travels, never worrying about the dangers a military career supplied, simply sitting in comfortable silence born of mutual respect. Occasionally his mom dragged a lawn chair down to the dock. He enjoyed spending his precious time with her. Those evenings found him content to sit, arms crossed, eyes closed as she chattered away about a hundred meaningless things. He took a certain comfort in the mundane, the trivial, the familiar.

Most evenings, though, he passed in solitude. Fresh cold air filtering in and out of his lungs as he worked to empty his mind, content to just exist. It was only here in the quiet that Alenko completed days at a time without a migraine.

He was positioned in that familiar way the first moment he heard the voices. Hushed, urgent.

Will he be alright? Dammit Liara, talk to me!

Kaidan sat upright in confusion. The moon glinted across the water, casting enough light to fill the small clearing. He rubbed his eyes, a familiar prickle working its way across the bridge of his nose. It was much later than he thought. Served him right for falling asleep.

Later, in his own bed, he remembered the odd dream as he drifted off to sleep.

Hang on Alenko, they're meeting us at the docks. Just hold on a little longer, they're gonna take care of you.

Dreams came and went all night. Some more distinct than others. Vivid, like memories.

He woke early the next morning, exhausted. A migraine had taken root, burrowing deep into his skull until his whole spine throbbed. He stumbled out of bed, pausing at the sink to splash some cold water in his face before trudging down the hall to the kitchen. Normally a migraine exiled him to the sweet darkness of his bed, but today was his final day of shore leave. He refused to spend his last few hours in solitude.

The empty kitchen surprised him when he stumbled through the door. Ma Alenko spent most of her time cooking when he was home, often rising before dawn to start a hearty breakfast for her men. He'd felt guilty, the first few times he'd visited on leave, that she slept so little and worked so hard when he was there; but eventually he saw it clearly for what it was, her own unique way of saying I love you.

Kaidan rubbed his neck wearily in the silence, perhaps it was earlier than he thought. Throwing open the doors to the well stocked pantry, he scanned each shelf till he found the heavy can of coffee. He was already up and knew from experience that another hour in bed would do nothing for his migraine. He might as well get a jump start on the day.

The coffee gurgled cheerfully as it brewed, filling the air with a comforting aroma. He'd recently replaced their ancient clunker with the newest version. This model was sleek and smooth, resulting in a brew that actually tasted like coffee instead of burnt water. This morning especially, that was a blessing.

Steaming mug in hand, Alenko stepped out onto the back porch. Warm oranges and golds still clung to the horizon as the sun burned away the morning mist. Settling into a wicker chair, he'd just brought the hot cup up to his lips when Kaidan's brain exploded.

Darkness, cold and hollow. Frantic beeps grew louder and louder until the volume seemed to drill straight into his brain. Voices, so many voices speaking at once. A strange discordant harmony that both soothed and burned.

One voice stood out. A familiar voice. The one from his dreams. I want to go with him, please let me go with him! Arguing, no...pleading. Please save him.

Kaidan woke face down on the wooden deck. His forehead throbbed so badly that it took a moment to register any other feeling. With a groan he rolled to one side, raising his hand and straining to focus his eyes. Small red blisters ran from the base of the thumb to his wrist. Had he always had those? His foggy brain struggled to reply. Wet splotches spanned his shirt, cooling rapidly in the morning air. Placing both hands flat on the ground, he willed them to stop shaking as he heaved himself to a kneeling position. From this vantage point he spotted the empty mug shattered in two. At least something made sense now, the damp puddle and his blistering hand were caused by the same thing. He'd been drinking coffee before the world ended.

But the world hadn't ended, in fact it looked very much the same. Quiet, serene, familiar. This was worse than any migraine he'd had before.

Kaidan stumbled through the house, desperate for company. Someone to tell him he wasn't dying, assure him that this pain would eventually end. His parents room was empty. So was the living room. In fact the whole damn house was eerily quiet. For a moment Kaidan doubted whether anyone had ever lived here, a ludicrous thought at best.

He was going insane, he understood that now. Most biotics with the L2 implant succumbed to madness. It was expected. The fact that he'd lasted this long with migraines as his only side effect was a miracle in itself. He sat down on the faded green couch, suddenly calm. He'd solved the riddle, undoubtedly the hardest part, and fixing the problem was what Kaidan did best.