Pain. All he could feel was pain.

Even before regaining consciousness, the pain made him aware he was alive, wounded, and suffering. Pain was everywhere, attached to him like a creeping vine on a plant, slowly suffocating him.

He awakened abruptly; one of his eyes tried to open, only to be blocked by something stiff. The pain became unbearable, making his vision blurry. He breathed shallow and fast, his throat so dry he couldn't even scream. He'd wanted to get up, but his body was too heavy. He could feel the muscles working, but an invisible force was holding him down.

So he remained still, blinking with the only open eye. He needed to feel something else than pain. He needed to see what was happening to him.

He trembled as a hand pressed carefully on his cheek.

"Can you hear me?"

He barely nodded, the voice came in his ears so muffled he wasn't even sure he didn't imagine it. He opened his mouth, lips trembling with the movement, but no words came out.

"Relax. Relax."

The person with him moved, he was sure of it, and even if he tried to reach him with his hand, he couldn't. He didn't want to remain alone. He needed to figure out where he was. And what happened to him. He clearly remembered he was...

And then he realized he didn't remember. With fear looming inside of him, he dug into his memory searching for even a tiny clue that could tell him something.

"But he only found emptiness. Nothing was there.

The person was again at his side, gently caressing his head. With careful movements, the person lifted him so he could sit his back leaning against something hard. Something cold was on his lips: he opened them, to feel the water falling down his throat.

"I'll turn on the light," the person said. "Just a little. You slept for too long, and your eye needs time to adjust."

Despite being prepared, he couldn't avoid his shutting his eye immediately, almost scared. Then he breathed slowly and blinked his eye open. The light paralyzed him at the beginning, but then he started to see the surrounding.

Nothing in the room was familiar, but there was nothing inside his head too.

He slowly turned to the person in the room with him and finally saw her: a young woman with long blonde hair. Her voice was gentle, but her expression harsh. She seemed very professional.

"Who... are... you...?" He finally managed to speak, even if each word was like pulling a tooth.

"My name is Curie, I'm a doctor," she introduced herself. "You're safe now. Your wounds were terrible, but we treated you in time. You'll live, and you'll get better but it will take time. For now you need to rest"

He nodded. The pain was slowly receding, so he was able to think clearly. "Why?" he asked.

"Well, third degree burns didn't heal in a week. Your muscles were mostly destroyed, so you can't move. You'll need..." She stopped, suddenly understanding the real question. "I don't know the details, only that you got caught in an explosion."

"I don't remember it."

"That's pretty normal. Your head was injured too, and after such trauma, the brain shuts itself down."

"Oh." He acknowledged, but he couldn't relax. The emptiness he felt was frightening, and he almost regretted the loss of pain. Thinking was terrible, because all he could hear was the sound of his questions jumping around an empty echoing space.

Curie stood up and walked towards the door in answer to a knocking at the door. He watched a man enter into the infirmary. At least, he thought it was an infirmary. He wasn't even sure he could make such a statement, or that he knew what an infirmary was. He tried to hear what they were talking about, but the voices were too low for him. He shivered: he was empty, and powerless.

"You can talk with Marco." Curie was again at his side. They had moved too fast for his still sleeping reflexes. "Marco's the one that saved you," Curie spoke, introducing the man who had just entered. I gave you something for the pain, but it won't last forever. Call me again when the pain becomes unbearable."

Marco waited for her to leave the room, before sitting down next to him. "So, Sabo... how are you feeling?"

"...Sabo?"

"Isn't it your name?" Marco lifted his hands, so he could see the blue top hat Marco was holding. "It was written here, on the inside of your hat. The brim is a little burnt, but it's intact."

"Sabo..." he repeated, slowly. Nothing came in his mind. "Maybe."

Marco looked at him with curious eyes. "Do you remember what happened?" Sabo slowly shook his head. "You were in a little boat on the sea, and someone shot your ship. I was there, and managed to rescue you. But I have no idea why you were out there alone, nor why you got shot."

"That makes two of us." Sabo– he could at least refer to himself with that name? – was almost surprised at his tone. It was like he was joking; a cruel one, but his tone was that of amusement.

"Well, about the shot, I can think a couple of reasons," Marco continued. His piercing gaze was studying Sabo, as if he tried to read his mind, as if he thought Sabo was lying. "You're safe, here. Curie said it's better for you not to move, for now, but if there's someone you want to call..."

Again, Sabo searched at depths of his brain, but he could find only darkness. "I don't know..." he murmured. His eye burned from the tears he was trying to stop. "I don't remember..."

"It's okay." Marco put a hand on his shoulder and pressed gently. "It's okay," he repeated. His nice demeanor made Sabo more eager to talk.

"I don't remember anything. Not even my name. Who I am? I don't know anymore...!"

Marco's hands were both on his shoulders now, holding him gently. "Relax. Relax." His voice was soft, calm. "I'll spoke with Curie about that. Your injuries were bad, so it's not strange. But people recover from accidents, and so will you."

"It's scary," Sabo admitted.

"I can only imagine." Marco smiled, and despite his pretty peculiar face, it was a bright one. "But you can count on us. We're still in the East Blue, so maybe we can go back and try to ask for your parents..."

Parents... That words made Sabo tremble with every muscle. "No!" he exclaimed. "No... I don't want to go back." He had no idea why, but it was the first and only thing he was sure of since he woke up. He intended to follow his instinc.

"As you wish," Marco said. "You can stay here as long as you want. Even forever, I'm pretty sure Pops won't mind." Gently, he pushed Sabo to lie down on the bed. "Sleep, for now. Your memory will come back when you're ready for it."

Sabo nodded. The pain almost disappeared, and now he felt tired. He had no idea how long he had remained unconscious, but he needed to sleep, hoping he won't wake up again as a stranger to even himself.