"Hello?"

Lloyd woke up in a field, the same field from Coia. He got up slowly and looked around. The sun was out, but it was dark as night. There was no snow anymore, it was springtime. He bent down to clean his dirty face with the water. Why was his hair white? Why were his eyes gray?

"Hello."

He spun around and reached for a nonexistent gun in his pocket. It was a young boy covered in dirt and mud.

"Hello." He spoke in a language he didn't recognize.

The boy sat across from him and started cutting a grapefruit. Confused, Lloyd slowly sat down.

"Fruit?"

"No, thank you."

As the boy was cutting, the other saw someone behind him. It was a tall figure looming by the edge of the field. It was too far to tell if it was male or female. It just loomed. It was unclear if it was staring at him or at the edge.

"You look sick." The boy spoke as he ate. He couldn't be much older than eight.

He suddenly became aware of his appearance. He was cut up and bruised, his hair was longer and messy, his eyes looked red and tired, he was emaciated.

"I know. You look dirty. Would you like me to give you a bath in the lake?"

"Sure."

Before he could blink, the boy was upside down in the water. He was on his head, his nasty feet up in the air. His stomach suddenly felt tight. Something he didn't really know how to describe. Something foreboding.

Just as quickly as it happened, the boy was flipped to the correct position to be in a lake. He happily splashed around, shouting and laughing. Lloyd's stomach felt better as his hand felt warm. He looked at it. He saw the outline of another hand holding his fingers.

"Is that-"

"Hey!" He jumped. "I'm waiting for you!"

"I'm coming!"

He walked to the lake and started to bathe the boy. He didn't have soap, so he used flowers. With each flower, the dirt came off. He was able to see him now. It was a white boy with brown eyes and hair. It made him sad. He missed his brown eyes and hair.

"Wow! Look at me!" The boy jumped up and ran around, suddenly wearing traditional Serbian clothes. He looked cute.

Lloyd was happy to see this, but he found himself peaking at the figure behind them. He didn't know how to feel about them? Her? Him? It? It seemed right. He didn't know if it was good or bad. It had to be somewhat good. It wasn't bothering him or the boy, who was now leading him to explore.

He was in Serbia before, but he didn't recognize it anymore. Sometimes, when they thought he wasn't looking, things would flip upside down or lose color. He felt wrong.

"Look at this!" Lloyd's stomach dropped again.

"My plane! How did it get here?"

"I don't know, but it's fun to climb on!"

As the boy climbed, Lloyd looked at the water. His body, brown haired and legs bleeding, was bobbing around. Face down and pale, just like from the night. It was trying hard to be correct, but it wasn't. He wasn't head first, he was foot first. He wasn't that tall either.

"I'm sorry." He recognized the voice. "I love you so much. Please forgive me."

The boy tugged on his hand. When he saw him, he wanted to throw up. The boy looked sick and uncanny as he clung to his chest. His body was rapidly changing his height as he put his hand on his mouth.

"Look at the forest."

They both turned around. Half the forest was on fire. A man came running at them. The boy screamed and clung to Lloyd's leg. For once, he wished he wasn't the oldest one around so he wouldn't have to protect and instead be protected. The man dropped in front of them. They both looked at him. They knew who the scorched body was.

"That's the man who killed me."

His stomach hurt again. He kneed down, his hands on his gut. He felt something slimy again, and this time, he looked to see what it was. He didn't see anything.

The boy looked normal again. "I have to go now."

"W-where?"

"Somewhere with lots of toys!" He clapped his hands. "I'll have fun there. I'll be well again!"

"Can I come?"

"No, not this time." And just like that, the boy and the body were gone.

"Wait! Please don't leave me! Not again!" He laid down on the floor and wept. The world changed into the room. The room that he died in.

He closed his eyes. Everything ached again. He heard a sneeze, then a burp. He couldn't look over. He just laid there, sweating and shaking.

"I'm sorry. I killed you. I love you, Lloyd."

The looming figure stood over the bed. He could see it now. It was a her with long gray hair and a short, thin body.

"Do you like the color purple?"

"Y-yes?"

She looked up at the sky. "They're waking you up now. You'll see me again, I promise."

"Who are you?"

He suddenly couldn't breathe.

----------------------------------------

"Sauveterre! I prayed this would happen! God bless you!"

He coughed and gasped for air. His air supply was quickly turned back on. He felt cold, freezing. Someone was hugging him as dozens of needles were stabbing him.

"Sauveterre! Look at me!" His vision was hazy. It was White. "Can you speak?"

"H-hello." His head pounded. "Oh, the pain."

His body burned as his head felt heavy again. White said the needles had medicine that could help. So many people flashed through his mind. He wanted Charles. He wanted maman and appa. He wanted-

"White, get François." He sounded like he was suffocating. The doctor quickly fixed his breathing machine. "Please."

White rushed out the room to François, who was anxiously picking at his nails in the other room. He wasn't allowed to be in the room because the other knew Lloyd longer than he did. He heard coughing and gagging. His heart was in his throat.

"Dauphiné, he's speaking! He's not a vegetable!" François felt a weight being off him. "He wants you!"

He rushed in and instantly went to Lloyd, who opened his arms for him. No eye was dry in the room as they embraced.

"Lloydie, you're alive!" François wept as he kissed his bandaged head.

Lloyd hugged him as tight as he could. "Yes!"

He asked about everyone, and he couldn't stop crying when he was told the news about his father. He begged for a phone but was declined, which made him hysterical. François and White tried to convince them but stopped when they were informed that a phone call would make Beom sick again.

So they tried telling him good news. How well James was doing, how the war was finally going to be over and there was a treaty being written, everything they could. It made him feel better.

"Will dad be ok?" He sniffled as François laid next to him.

"Of course he will. He just needs to rest. You need to as well." François hugged him close to his body. His body felt too small and too boney, like a starved dog. "I like your hair."

"My hair? It looks the same." François wanted to kick himself in the ass. "Did it change?"

"Um, you look different, not bad, though."

He saw the worried look at his face. "Can I see?"

The other didn't know what to do. He never lied to him, though, and he did pass him a mirror. Lloyd covered his mouth. He always loved his brown eyes and hair. His parents would always tell him how beautiful he was. He had his father's eyes and his mother's hair. He took it as a sign of pride and love. He would always carry those with him, even when his parents were long gone.

Now it was gone. Everything was gone. His hair was as white as snow. It made him look older. He touched it, his eyes feeling warm and watery. His eyes, it scared him to look at. They were a strange shade of purple. His skin was so pale that it made François look dark.

"Oh my God, I'm so ugly!"

THE RETURN OF PERSEPHONE Frederic Leighton