Two pale green eyes glittered in the bright, white glow. They narrowed. The target was selected. Between two hands, a pulsing, white ball of ki seeped from each palm. Slowly, almost lazily, they began to circle each other, like warriors squaring off for a battle.

Silence surrounded the vast field. The quiet whoosh! of the ki as it circled, circled, carved through the still air with relentless precision.

The greens eyes narrowed even more, the pupils focused on the pulsing of the energy and the target ahead.

The ki balls pulsed around each other faster, leaving steamers in their wake. The energy built, but the green eyes showed no strain from restraining it, waiting for the exact moment. Legs braced, body relaxed, the figure stared ahead. The breathing was deep and natural. The energy was hot and swift. The time was near.

The hands drew back against a muscular torso, readying for the release.

Something pierced the silent arena. It plummeted from the atmosphere, the air whistling around it as it fell . . .

. . . and crashed into the target.

Green eyes widened, then narrowed again. The first motion was the result of shock, the second of irritation.

A growl rumbled through the pregnant air.

The release must come.

Now.

The target had crumbled under the force of the thing which had crashed into it. The figure leaned back and thrust her hands up toward the sky, and the spiraling ki balls corkscrewed into the atmosphere, exploding in white brilliance.

The green eyes closed for a moment and then opened. She turned her head back to the target. The dust had settled. She scanned the area where the object must have fallen.

Her eyes widened a bit in surprise. There was someone alive in the debris. She scanned again, sure that she was mistaken. But no, she had been right. There was ki there, very low, and foreign. And it was getting weaker.

She focused her thoughts on the location of the foreign presence and closed her eyes.

A breath later, when she opened them, she was standing over the small crater that had been created in her arena. Nestled at its base, surrounded by rocks of various sizes, was a broad, battered figure.

Her feet lifted off of the ground as she floated down toward the being, cautiously approaching it. She knew nothing of the universe beyond her world save what her father had told her. She knew nothing of what sort of creature had fallen onto her world. She knew nothing of this alien's defenses.

Slowly, steadily, she drew within range. She paused, her senses still alert. There was silence. She reached out and touched the being. It was still steaming with the heat generated by its entry through the tiny planet�s atmosphere.

Her hands felt along the firm, battered flesh, unperturbed by the radiating heat. She studied the being for long moments, noting the pile of rubble that obscured it from her gaze. She was unsure of how to successfully dislodge the being, or even if she should. But the ki was getting weaker still.

Slowly, she commanded the rocks and debris to lift. They floated into the air and then resettled a distance away where their presence would not cause a rock slide into the crater. She had to determine if the being could be moved. Very gently, she laid her hand on the creature�s back and felt its ki wash over her.

The being�s internal organs were very cool, as if it had been floating in space a long time. He would have to be moved; his body could take it. Very gently, she commanded the body to rise until it hovered just above the rocks. With firm tenderness, she used her ki to turn him over and resettle him on the ground.

The warm glow that suffused her world chased away the shadows that had gathered themselves around the being until its unconscious form was revealed. She paused to study the visitor.

It was, of course, male, she confirmed. And from the contusions and lacerations covering his body, she gathered that he had certainly met his match in battle. In the partial shadows created by the walls of the crater curving over him, his hair was very dark. His eyes were shut tightly, as if straining against the pain ravaging his body. She knew that if she could touch him, she could numb some of his pain.

She carefully reached across the distance between them and placed a hand on his shoulder. The visitor�s eyelids fluttered open. His eyes were as dark as his hair, although they remained unfocused. She slid her hands under his arms and began to pull his torso up, out of the shadows. His neck corded in pain and a small groan squeezed its way out of his throat. She wondered if he would remain conscious.

He did. It was a strained effort as he tried to raise himself out of the crater. She felt the tension in him and half expected him to turn away from her, to fight against her. He lifted his face and, with a supreme effort, focused his eyes. Black met green in the warm white glow. For one breathless instant, he stared into her face, as if he were weighing her soul. And then he leaned into her, accepting her assistance.

Her arms went completely around his torso, and she lifted him completely from the remaining rubble. With a thought, she focused on her home, which was a good distance away, and wished herself and her patient there.

When she opened her eyes, she was in her parents� old room. The visitor�s body was shaking from pain and the exertion required to stay awake. Sweat was beaded on his brow and down his broad, muscular back. With as little jarring as possible, she laid him down on the bed. Her hands moved over him, taking an inventory of his wounds. She lost count of the fractures, of the internal seepage of blood. When her hands touched his forehead, she winced. He had a concussion and there was more internal bleeding. He was dying.

The hand that rested upon his forehead began to glow. Her skin was transformed into white, pulsing energy. Steadily, the glow rose up to her elbow. Her hand disappeared into his flesh. Her energy surged through him, mending, suturing, rerouting, reenforcing. The glow encompassed her arm, and then her head and neck, her torso, her other arm. It spread down her body until she was one glowing figure of energy. She fell slowly into his body. Her head rested in his, her arms in his, her legs in his. She was inside of him overseeing every mend.

That was when she felt it. The chaos that was his mind. As his body mended, she concentrated all of her efforts on his erratic thoughts. Through the haze of pain and rage, the illogical, broken thoughts of an insane mind shifted like the wind. She back tracked his thoughts as far as she could go and found a bundle of memories. Tentatively, she created a strong block over that portion of his mind. The effect was immediate; there was calm.

The rage was gone. The memories of pain were gone. The angry swirling of his thoughts quieted to a more leisurely pace. His thoughts were still broken at times and illogical, but they were calm; they could heal now.

She moved inside of him, as if she were stretching her muscles, when in fact she was stretching his, testing their strength and resilience. The bleeding had been stopped and reabsorbed by his body. The tears in tissue had been closed. Only his bones were still bruised as the fractures mended. Satisfied with his recovery, she withdrew, slowly materializing beside him, her hand still resting on his forehead. When her vision came to her, she found herself staring into his eyes. They were clear and focused. His heavy brow was drawn forward in puzzlement.

His throat worked as he opened his mouth. �Who . . . who are you?� he forced out in a strained, soft whisper.

�I am Solis,� she replied. She kept her voice soft and even.

His eyes held hers for one moment longer and then his eyelids slid down and he fell into sleep. Solis leaned back and watched him, unnerved by what her venture in healing him had revealed.

He was saiya-jin. A male of her species.

�Don�t break my heart, my achy, breaky heart . . .�

A soft, thudding pain asserted itself from behind his eyes. Frowning, he lifted a hand to his temples, or rather, he tried to. It was extremely difficult to accomplish the simple motion. He felt as if he�d been welded to the pallet beneath him. He took a deep breath and released it, wondering what had prompted the ache behind his eyes.

�I just don�t think he�d understand . . .�

There it was again, the soft singing. His frown turned puzzled; he�d never been in a place where someone had been singing. He focused on that thought for a moment, trying to recall something familiar . . .

Nothing. He recalled nothing about what he would normally wake up to.

He forced himself to relax; the pain was only getting worse the more he worried about it.

�Cause if you break my heart, my achy, breaky heart . . .�

It occurred to him that he was not alone, that someone was singing. He forced his eyes open and found himself looking up into an elongated, spiny face. The sight was so unexpected, that he cried out. The creature cocked its red-brown, scaly head at him and adjusted a fin-like ruff about the crown of its skull. It blinked large, black-pupiled eyes at him.

The thing turned its head, stretching its elongated neck. Aiming its muzzle over its shoulder, it drawled, �Solis, sugar plumb, I think you�re pet�s awake now.�

He made another sound, this one more shocked than startled.

The creature looked back at him. �And it ain�t soundin� like he�s takin� a shine to me, neither,� the creature grumbled, almost to itself.

Although he couldn�t move his head very much, he knew when �Solis� entered the room. Her energy preceeded her, almost lighting the way on her path. She stepped into his field of vision and he felt a vague memory tug at the ragged edges of his mind.

Who are you?

I am Solis.

And then the thought came to him: Who am I?

Where a name should have been, there was a dark, ominous emptiness.

He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut.

When he opened them, Solis had her hand on the creature�s shoulder in a reassuring manner. �Don�t let it bother you, Peppermint. I�m sure he just needs time to adjust. You know that you�re the charmer of your family.�

The creature sighed in resignation. �Well now, I used to think so. But that boy just ain�t lookin� charmed to me.�

Solis stepped closer to the bed, her golden face the focus of his attention. Without looking away from his eyes, she said, �Would you bring me some water?�

The creature she called Peppermint propped two short arms against its torso in a parody of having its arms akimbo. �Well, sure, honey pie. I�m about at useless here as teats on a rooster as it is. Might as well do somethin� productive-like.� The creature turned away, grumbling to itself as it slithered out of view.

He frowned as Solis sat on the edge of the pallet. �What . . . ?� he tried to ask, but his voice was ill-used and rusty sounding.

Solis grinned. �She�s a drake,� she said.

The term meant nothing to him.

�She�s got some great chicken jokes. You might like to ask to hear them sometime,� she suggested. �How do you feel?�

He shifted restlessly on the pallet. He did not know what a drake was. He did not know what a chicken was. His face contorted in confusion. �Slaves?� he rapped out, meaning the creature that had crawled out of the room.

Solis shook her head.

He closed his eyes, unable to sustain his concentration on the topic any longer. He shifted again on the pallet. His body still felt as if it had been absorbed into the mattress beneath him.

Solis nodded. �First order of business today is peeling you off of that bed,� she assured him.

He swallowed. �Where . . . ?�

�Balite,� she said. �A small planet.�

He frowned so fiercely that his black eyes nearly disappeared beneath his brows. �How did I get here?�

�After you found me, I brought you to my home,� she said, unsure as to how specific �here� was. The room? The planet? The universe? �You crashed into my target, by the way,� she told him, looking a bit irritated.

His brows lifted from their scowl. His eyes looked away from hers, his face flushed slightly. �S-sorry.�

He was embarrassed! Solis hid a small grin. Her hand touched his forehead. �No harm done,� she said.

�Hey, chicky-poo? I can�t find that darn . . . Oh! Never mind, sweetie. Here it is!�

Peppermint entered the room again with the requested cup of water and something else held high in her other set of claws.

Solis took the cup from the drake�s large talons and slid an arm beneath her patient�s head. She lifted his shoulders off of the cot and pressed the cup to his lips. �Thank you, Peppermint,� Solis said as he drained the cup. �What else have you got there?�

The creature looked down at the thing in its talons and then bashfully tucked it behind her back. �Oh, well, that. Ahem. That�s just nothin� to worry you�re pretty head over, Solis. Why, I�s just got to thinking how this poor fella ain�t even got no good duds to wear . . .�

Solis looked away from her patient. �You brought him some clothes? That�s very thoughtful of you, Peppermint.�

The drake ducked her head and fidgeted with the rug, twisting one of her clawed toes into it. �Aw, well . . .� Without saying anything else, the drake thrust out the hand holding the clothing in it.

Solis blinked as she studied the articles. Slowly, she reached out to accept them. She stared at the fuzzy shoes, at odds with why the drake had decided to bring these in particular. They were nothing less than a large pair of pink bunny slippers. �Thank you,� Solis said, blinking. �They�re perfectly charming. How ever did you manage to find something like this?�

The drake slid further into acute bashfulness. �Oh, well, afore your mama died she told me that ya�ll�s people liked that sort a stuff. And then Winterbourne found a transmission from Earth on how to make �em.� She shrugged.

�Well, it was very thoughtful of you.�

Peppermint glanced up, the webbing marching across the crown of her head raising with hope. �Really?� she asked. �You�re not just saying that now, are ya?�

Solis smiled. �Of course not. It really was very sweet of you to think about his comfort.�

�Awww. Shucks,� the drake said again, looking away.

Grinning, Solis turned to look at her patient. She held up the slippers for his inspection. �For you,� she said. He frowned at them for a moment and then his face shifted. He blinked at the objects inquisitively. He would have tilted his head to one side, but the corresponding stiffness made him wince.

�You can get a better look at them in a bit,� she assured him and set them aside on the bed. �But first,� she went on, maneuvering so that one of his arms went around her shoulders, �you need to get up and walking.� The instant that her arm slid around his shoulders, he felt his back muscles relax under the soothing heat of her ki energy. Touching her was like bathing in a star�s light, warm and penetrating. The stiffness in his muscles lessened and he leaned into her as she guided him into a sitting position. The act of simply sitting up weakened him, making his lungs labor.

�Why . . . am I so . . . weak?� he whispered.

�It�s the gravity, sugar,� Peppermint assured him. �Not many planets are this dense and this solid at the same time.�

He made a small sound of understanding and braced his arms against the mattress. His muscled chest heaved with every breath he dragged in. Beads of sweat formed on his brow and at his temples from the effort it took to fight the planet�s persuasive energy. When Solis was sure that his arms would support him, she reached for his legs, which were hidden beneath soft, faded material.

At her touch, his eyes went to his legs and was surprised to find himself wearing a pair of soft, faded, blue pants. He knew that they weren�t his but he couldn�t seem to recall what his clothes had looked like. His eyes clamped shut. He hated this feeling of helplessness at not being able to remember anything.

�My . . . clothes?� His voice was a mere thread of sound.

Solis guided his legs over the edge of the bed and then reached for him. Her arms slid around his chest as she maneuvered him closer to the edge of the bed. He resisted for a moment, his eyes wary of her, of all that he did not know.

She did not try to move him against his will, only waited for him to accept her assistance. �Your clothes were . . . destroyed by your entry through Balite�s atmosphere. I kept what was left of them, but there wasn�t enough to cover you.�

His dark eyes went to her face. He�d just lost everything that was familiar to him. He swallowed against his rising panic.

�I kept what there was of your things,� Solis continued, her voice low and soothing. It washed over him like a warm, gentle rain. �Your belt I have, but the remains of your clothes and boots I gave to a good friend of mine. Peppermint�s brother, Audovauld, is a tailor. He is trying to reconstruct your things.� Solis nodded at the table beside the bed without taking her eyes from her guest�s gaze, sensing that he needed to feel her sincerity more than anything. �Your earrings and gauntlets are on the table.� She watched him carefully. �Would you like for me to send for Audovauld?�

Slowly, very slowly, the meaning of her words sank in. Just as slowly, the tension arching through his body began to dissipate. �My . . . things were damaged?� His mind was a seething mass of confusion. He needed it clarified.

Solis nodded.

�This . . . Audovauld can repair . . . them?� Still, his breath was coming in hard. He had to grit his teeth against a scream of frustration at his weakness.

Again she nodded. �It is very likely.�

He sat poised as if to flee. Solis expected him to fight her; he held himself so tensely. The effort of supporting himself made his big body shake. Solis waited for him to make his decision.

He leaned into her arms.

As gently as she could, she lifted his broad torso against her and settled him on the edge of the bed. His lungs burned with the effort that it took to remain upright. His teeth were clenched against the pain.

�You may rest now if you like,� Solis told him as she felt his muscles tremble with the strain. �But you will recover faster if you push yourself.�

Mouth set in a harsh line, he nodded once. Solis knew that he was ready to continue.

She moved between his thighs and wrapped her arms around his waist, careful to move slow, very slow. His body could not adapt to Balite�s gravity if he were rushed. She feared having to merge with him every night to rebuild collapsed lungs or repair internal hemorrhaging. His hands griped her shoulders with impressive force as she pulled him up and off of the bed. They stood, pressed together for long moments as they waited to see if his body would collapse. He fought the pain. His face was closed, his eyes shut, his lips compressed.

Solis kept her face carefully neutral. She knew that her touch soothed only some of his pain. She could have taken more of it from him, but pain was an excellent indicator of the condition of the body. He needed to know his limits. He needed to be able to stand without her. Those two things would never happen if she held his pain away from him every moment.

Peppermint was oddly silent during the entire ordeal, as if she could sense the precarious condition of his mind. Pressed against him as she was, Solis knew that the drake was bitting her tongue to keep from remarking on the suggestiveness of the intimacy Solis was sharing with him. She was close enough to feel his pulse as it thundered through his body. She felt the flutter of it over his heart, his navel, his thighs. His breath became hers. His hair fell over her hands as she held him. When his chest swelled with breath, it pushed against hers, thrusting the air from her lungs.

Normally, the drake would have taken the opportunity to make some wry comment at Solis�s expense. Oh, Peppermint didn�t mean to be cruel, she was just highly . . . opinionated and curious. No doubt Solis would hear all about Peppermint�s thoughts later, but for now she said a silent prayer in thanks.

When she sensed that he had gained his balance, she slipped to one side of him and wrapped and arm around his waist. The other she kept on his abdomen, ready to halt him if he toppled forward. She felt him gather himself and in a singularly focused, muscular effort, he pushed a foot out in front of him. Later, Solis would remark that he had taken his first step in the same room that she had so very long ago.

�I don�t know my name,� he said. His eyes were still closed but he knew that she was there; he�d felt her ki and seen the glow against his closed eyelids.

Solis was neither surprised at his statement nor the fact that he knew she was near. She moved to the table next to his bed and placed his evening meal there beside his other things. When he was strong enough, she knew that he would reach for them. He would don his earrings and gauntlets and belt again and hope for memories from his past to come to him.

�Do you remember anything of your life before this?� Solis replied, waiting, her eyes on his odd jewelry.

�Hate,� he said, his voice so soft she almost could not hear him. �Pain.�

�Perhaps you are fortunate that it is lost,� she suggested.

He was silent for a very long time.

�You did very well today,� Solis assured him, recalling the three circuits he had traveled around the room before exhaustion had set in. �Perhaps you will be back to yourself sooner than I thought. It will be nice to train with another saiya-jin again.�

His eyes opened. His black eyes stared at her, wary and hopeful at once. She could tell that he had recognized the word she had used to describe him.

�Yes,� he said very carefully. �I am saiya-jin. I am . . .�

Solis waited.

�Akuma,� he said on a strangled breath. A shiver went through his big body. Small beads of sweat glistened on his forehead. His hands tightened on the bedclothes.

Solis reached over and easily placed her hand on his forehead. Her touch seemed to soothe him although she had done nothing this time to take away his pain or anxiety.

�That name brings you pain,� Solis said. �You have enough pain now; you do not need more.�

His face trembled with the effort it took to fight against the pain.

�This world is strange, I know.� She spoke softly. �It was strange to me once, too, when I was too young to have any memories of my own. It is strange for those who are new.� Solis met his gaze when his black eyes focused on her. �A new man deserves a new name.�

�A new man?� he echoed.

�Celerus once said that �A man without memories to measure his age by is a new man,�� Solis told him. �Celerus was a saiya-jin like us,� she continued at his frown. �He recorded the old legends so that they would not be forgotten.�

�I am new?� His voice was weak but his eyes were searching.

She nodded, �If you accept what Celerus has to say.�

His gaze turned inward as he seemed to think it over. Solis reached for the tray of food she had brought. In distracted silence, he swallowed the broth that she fed him. He drank the water that she offered him and ate the soft bread that she handed him. Only when she settled his head and shoulders back onto the bed did he look at her again.

His gaze spoke eloquently of the hunger that still turned in his stomach, unappeased.

�I know,� she told him. �I will be back in another hour with more if this meal doesn�t come back up.�

He nodded. Solis collected the tray again and turned toward the door.

�Solis . . .�

She turned. He was watching her.

�Could I . . .� He took a deep, fortifying breath. �Could I have a new name?�

She leaned against the doorjamb. �Of course. What sort of name would you like?�

He looked at the woman who had saved his life. He felt life flowing through him all because of this care and encouragement. He felt the darkness that threatened to drag his soul into chaos. Could she save his soul as she had saved his life? Could she banish the darkness and the pain? Could she possibly give him something else to cling to? Could she give him hope if she had given him life? Could she give him a future if she gave him a name?

He said, �One that you chose.�

She smiled.

He had never seen a woman smile before. He had never seen a woman before. These two things he knew to be true even as everything else was swallowed up by the seething darkness.

�Miracle,� she said. �I would give you that name.�

He swallowed. He knew, instinctively that she never gave false or ill-fitting gifts. If she had thought to call him Miracle then that would be his name. He nodded.

He was a new man.

He had a new name.

Miracle.

She turned again to go.

�Will . . . will you return?� he asked, suddenly afraid of being alone and new--vulnerable--at the same moment.

She nodded.

He relaxed back onto the bed. His eyes closed. She had promised to return.

He could sleep now.

And so he did.

And when Solis returned a few minutes later, she found a man knee deep in dreams . . . not nightmares.

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