"Locke," He said out of nowhere.

"What?" Aiden yelled over the buzz of the market, and pushed through a mass of people.

"Locke. I want to be called Locke." He flipped another page.

"Is that even a name?"

"It is now."

Aiden and the newly dubbed Locke reached the ship a minute later. Locke still hadn't looked up once. Aiden dished out 700 gil for their tickets; greatly overpriced for the shanty they'd be staying in, but with his line of profession, money was easy to come by.

He grasped the back of Locke's neck lightly, leading him up the plank onto the ship. A particularly large, greasy man, was awkwardly stumbling up from behind carrying a bulky cargo box. His face was pressed to the side by the crate, and was apparently half-assing where he was going. Unfortunately, with his front being his blind spot, he wasn't able to see the small figure walking ahead of him. He smacked right into him, and with shriek that very much betrayed his character, Locke was pitched off the side of the plank into the icy depths below.

He smashed into the water the thirty feet below and resurfaced several moments later, panic stricken. Arms clumsily sloshing through the water, he struggled to keep afloat, choking on the bitter salt water. For a moment he thought he was going to drown. For a moment, his indifference was gone. And for a moment, he was nothing more than a terrified little boy.

His savior arrived an instant later, diving into the water beside him. It only took a moment for him to be identified. Flaming red hair matted to the navy bandana wrapped around his head, mahogany eyes, and an unshaven jaw. He wrapped his arms around the man's neck and clung on for dear life.

Aiden dragged him to water's edge, and with help from some of the surrounding people, both were pulled onto the dock. After prying him off of his neck, Locke staggered a few feet away and retched, distancing himself from the water. He felt numb all over, and his sinuses burned from the water. Trembling, he wiped the bile off his chin with a drenched sleeve. The man that knocked him over the edge him dropped the crate and came bumbling down the plank, sputtering apologies.

"Ah'm so sorry! Wit' the box, an' 'e's so littuhl, Ah couldn' see anythin'. Ah reallah didn' mean ta--" Aiden waved him off. He didn't understand much of what was said, but got the gist.

"Really, it's fine. I think he's alright; just a bit shaken up." He spotted something red floating in the water, and fished it out. It was the book Locke had been reading. Leaning over with his hands on his knees, the youth no longer looked so eager to read.

In the brief moment he was thrown into the water, his entire opinion had about Aiden had changed. He thought he was just another ignorant, careless person. Though his memory only spanned two days, something in the depths of the mind- maybe something from his past--kept telling him that he was better off alone, that he had to depend on himself. He didn't care about anyone and certainly didn't want anyone to care about him.

But here was Aiden, a traveller who had found him in the woods, and went out of his way to get medical help. He nearly drowned, and he dove in without a second thought and saved him. Then offered to bring him along with him. But wait, he was taking him to an orphanage, wasn't he? 'He's just going to ditch me.' For one reason or another, he felt betrayed. 'I knew I couldn't rely on anyone but myself.'

He eyed the book sitting on the end of the bed. He had been so interested in it when he first started reading. It was a retelling of the War of the Magi, supposedly from the view of an esper. His stomach had jerked when he figured this out, though he didn't even know what an esper was. Something in his mind kept nagging him to keep reading.

He refused to touch the book after falling into the water; he felt as if it was an ill omen. He mentally kicked himself. 'It's just a stupid book. It's your own damn fault you fell in, so stop making crap up.' He opened the book, and carefully peeled the crimped, yellowed pages apart. The words were smudged, but still readable.

He couldn't remember where he had left off, so opted for rereading it instead. He had nothing better to do anyway.

He turned with to face the door which had swung closed behind him, and after jiggling the doorknob several times, he found that it had locked. Standing with the cold ocean wind whipping sharply at his back, and with his shirt pulled over his face to suppress the vomit climbing steadily up his throat, Locke was suddenly not so fond of his namesake. He'd either have to wait for Aiden to return to open it, or go and track him down himself. It took him about a half a second to make his choice. 'Like hell I'm waiting.'

"Looks like you got a lot on your mind." It took him a moment to realize that someone was talking to him; the voices in the shabby bar were nothing more than a dull roar to him. The speaker was the bartender, a buxom woman, with wavy black hair.

"I guess you could say that." He replied, his voice slightly slurred.

"You're a bounty hunter, aren't you?"

"You're a psychic, aren't you?"

"Well, getting drunk isn't too great of a way to get any job offers."

"Not looking for a job. Got to... Deliver something to Nikeah. After that's dealt with, I can start working again."

"So I'm a delivery am I?" Aiden's beer went flying out of his hand as his stool tipped backwards. Few people looked up; drunks falling out of their seats was all too common. Locke's entrance must have gone unnoticed by everyone in the bar; minors weren't allowed and someone would have spoken up. It was no surprise, with his small size coupled with all the commotion.

"That's all I am? A damn package for you drop off? Just something to 'deal with'?" His eyes were burning with vehement rage, and a few drops of blood hit the floor as his fingernails bite into the palms of his balled-up fists. "Well you don't have to play messenger boy anymore, you bastard!"

"Locke, wait!"

"Fuck off!" he screamed as he stormed off, slamming the door so hard the glasses sitting on the edge of the counter smashed to the floor.

Aiden pulled himself off the floor, feeling his face go as red as his hair. Everyone had gone silent at the start of the youth's outburst, and now a clamor broke out, all eyes disapprovingly watching him.

"Fuck." was all he could mumble.

A lifetime of happiness couldn't make up for the pain he'd felt the passed 2 days. He couldn't understand why God--if there was even such a thing--decided to screw him over so badly. Amnesia, raging mood-swings, imperials after him for god-knows-why. And he didn't talk much, but that didn't mean they had to treat him like a mindless idiot.

He didn't want to go to some orphanage. Who the hell would want to adopt him anyway? As far as he was concerned, he was some kind of freak. He didn't want to be adopted. He didn't want family. He didn't want friends. He just wanted to curl up and die. He wrapped his arms around his knees and cried himself to sleep.

"What the hell do you want? Go fuck yourself, asshole!"

"My god. What are you, like nine? Where did you learn language like that?" This response did anything but please Locke, and he dove at him, aiming his fist at his face. Aiden stepped aside, and stuck his foot out, sending the juvenile sprawling to the deck.

"You bastard." He seethed, trying to fight the tears again threatening to spill over. He pressed his forehead against the deck.

"You're form is good, and you have amazing agility for someone so young. I could probably teach you how to really fight well. It'd take time though."

"Take time? Are you stupid? We'll be at Nikeah tomorrow. When the hell will you find any time to teach me anything? And who says I even want you to teach me anything."

"Well, here's what I was thinking. Let's say that we screw the whole 'orphanage' deal and you travel with me instead?" Locke's head shot up, not sure if he heard correctly.

"Now, I know that I'm not the most likeable guy around. I come off as an jackass; you know it, hell, even I know it. But after you get to know me better, you'll find that I'm not so bad. I'm a bounty hunter, so I travel a lot. You'd get to see a lot of places, and pick up a lot of skills as well. It's a tough life, but damn, I wouldn't have it any other way."

"Are you just saying all this because you feel guilty about what you said?"

"Nah, I have been feeling guilty about ditching you at some orphanage, though" He heard Aiden walk to the railing, and clicking of a cigarette lighter. "You wouldn't do good there. You're too damn... Pessimistic. You're better suited to the life of being a rogue," He walked back over, and extended a hand to the floor-bound youth. "It's your call."

Locke stared at it, considering both options. After a moment of thinking, he grabbed his hand, and let himself be pulled up. "Fine, I guess I'll do all that.... Shit you just said."

"I'm still mad at you." He informed the elder man, turning his head away.

"Yeah, I'm not too crazy about myself either right now." He took another drag from his cigarette, then stifled it with his boot.