Challenge Name: Picky Picky
Ratings/Warnings: G
Dialog Prompts Used: "Helpful hint: Wait until you're sober before trying that again."
Word Count (Optional): 1980




"Who are you?" she stared at the young man incredulously, not trusting anyone who just emerged from the shadows.

"Who is but the form following the function of what and what I am is a man in a mask," he replied teasingly, his lips twitching as he silently laughed at her confused but with a dawning understanding expression.

She could see his eyes (they were golden brown) and his hair was black and straight but uncombed. His skin was pale (he seemed almost translucent and ready to fade back into the walls as quick as he appeared to have passed through them) and his lips were carnation pink. If he said he was a ghost (well, ghost with pink lips, she'd give him that), she would have believed it, except that she didn't know what she was either. Was she a ghost, a fragment of someone's self, or something else entirely? She has vague memories of being human but this place, this room, was not like any of the images that sometimes flashed through her head. She does not remember this place any more than she remembers her self.

His visage she could see, and she boldly pointed that out. "But you're not wearing a mask. And I think you just quoted V for Vendetta."

He waved his hand in the air, brushing the issue aside. "I like V. He is a character worthy to be quoted." He bent down to sit, despite the fact that there was no chair, and continued to keep the impression of doing so. "Well, back to the issue at hand! Who is not important. The matter most important, and the little detail you should be alarmed of, is Where. Let us begin with your question of Where." He paused, as if prompting her to speak.

She nodded slowly. "Okay," she drawled. "Where am I? Where is this place?"

He opened his arms and stretched them wide. "This? This is Nowhere. Everwhere. No, wait, this is Middlewhere. Everwhere is forever and Nowhere does not exist, therefore this must be Middlewhere!" he concluded cheerfully, grinning at her from ear to ear. "It is about time I gave this place a name."

"I don't suppose you will give me a clearer answer than that?"

He shook his head, still smiling like a fool. "That is the most direct answer to your question, though eventually it all depends on the right questions you ask."

"You've answered Where, but not Who."

He bent his elbow and placed it on the invisible armrest, dropping his chin on the palm of his hand. "Hmm...there are no rules against saying Who I Am, but let's make this interesting!"

"Like what, you give clues or something?" she sighed.

"Right on! First of all, you were wrong when you said I was not wearing a mask. This is my mask," he said, pointing all his fingers to his body. "So if ever I get tired of this look, I can merely change this Simulacrum of the Self."

"You're not human." It should have been obvious, she scolded herself for her stupidity.

"Naturally!" He stood up. "I will give you a clue. You, m'dear, figuratively speaking, are not alive."

She knew the concept of being alive and upon hearing it, she stopped breathing. Only to inhale again. "But I'm...breathing!"

"Well -- habit, you know? What is left with the physical sense of self." He started to walk around the room. Back and forth, just in front of her.

"Am I dead?"

"Errr -- no. You could die but, no, you are not yet dead."

Her eyes dropped to the floor as she stood there, thinking. Finally, her eyes shifted upward, locking with his. "Are you Death?"

"A logical conclusion, but no. Quite close, though!" he answered exuberantly, a characteristic that, she noticed, must be natural for him. He started spinning around the room while waiting for her next question.

He can't be God. God was an old man with a robe, wearing a beard. This was a...young adult with ADHD. "I know you're not God, but I still don't know who you are," she gave up, eyebrows furrowed in a last attempt to guess.

"Look at this room!"

The room was enveloped in darkness. She just didn't try understanding why she could see him -- or the four doorless and windowless walls that trap her in negative space. This absence of light gripped her tightly and she feared it at first. At first because it had been a while (how long? She could not guess. There was no watch and she did not have a sense of time. Only of minutes and seconds spilling into decades. How long had she been there?) but when darkness did not harm her, the fear faded into anxiety. "It's er...dark."

"Touché!" He stopped spinning and, walking slowly, approached her. He stopped just a few inches away from where she stood. He bent forward, making her take a step back, and then grinned wickedly. "I, m'dear, am Darkness."

She shivered unconsciously and held her breath, releasing it only until he averted his eyes away from hers.

He pulled himself back. "Actually, there is no Death. Only me and m'boss, Light. So if Middlewhere is my playground, Light owns the park where the playground is."

"What do you do? In this place, I mean."

"Ahh...the What question. I filter the souls. I know when they're dying, I know when they're not."

"Then what's my status?"

He shrugged. "You're neither. But you're no ghost. You're not Lost."

She arched a brow at him. Not lost? Being stuck here certainly felt like it, even without any recollections of where she came from. Of where she should be.

"Well, maybe you are, but not my definition of Lost lost. You shouldn't be here, really. Do you remember who you are?"

She shook her head in uncertainty. "I was hoping you knew." To her credit, she spent what felt like hours trying to remember just her name.

He nodded slowly. "No? Pity. I have a database of the memory of souls who passed through Death. I could sell you one, if you will." He snickered mischievously.

She could hardly believe what he was saying. "What?"

"Oh, I was just think that you might not want to feel...empty. With y'know, nothing to remember in that head of yours." He tapped his forehead for emphasis.

"No, thank you. I feel fine." Though, of course, she felt just as scared as anyone who knew nothing. Nothing of importance, nothing for the means of survival. She knew bits and pieces of information. Like movies, shows (the title 'How I Met Your Mother' comes to mind, oddly enough). Celebrities of different nationalities (Tennant, Jackman, Portman, Tautou, Butler). Food, names that are not her own, places. But how will these inconsequential information help her know who she is, where she's from, what happened to her?

"Really?" his eyes widened in astonishment.

"Yes!" she felt her voice rise. "And how do you sell memory anyway?"

"Hn." He did not believe her. She was most definitely not fine. Her kind are never fine, without the notion of who they are. "Humans. Pride will kill you, see if it doesn't."

She rubbed her forehead. She did not want to argue with the only being who seemed to exist at the same place she did. "How can I remember? Do you know how I could return to -- wherever I came from?"

The corners of his mouth dropped into a frown. "Unfortunately. No. Like I said, I'm only Number Two. Unlike light, I'm neither absolute nor omnipotent. I filter, give directions, but I don't know where you came from and because I don't know who you are, there is no easy way to get your memory back. I did say you weren't supposed to be here, but here you are!" he sighed. "Except that you look human so I assume you were human. Reason why I came back to this room, my room, was because for some mysterious reason, you were brought here."

"Can't you just filter my soul, then? Like, put me in Alive, since I'm not Dead."

For once he looked sad. As sad as his insanely cheerful disposition would let him. His lips straightened itself into a line before he explained, "But, you see, you're just neither."

"Does that mean I can't be filed?"

"Something like that, yes."

"Can Light help me?"

"If he finds you, maybe yes. Maybe no."

"But why not? And can't we just go and see him, to make things easier?"

Darkness rolled his eyes upwards, suddenly lapsing into silence for a few seconds. "Nope! I don't know where Light is right now. I don't even know what he's doing or what he plans to do! Sorry! Can't find him! Can't help you with that!" He didn't sound sorry but more like a bit carefree and untroubled, but she probably should have expected that from him, too.

She didn't know what to do or how to get out of here, but staying in the same room will not help. Common sense can tell anyone that. After all, she still wanted to know who she is, what happened, and why she was in this place the guy called 'Middlewhere'.

She glanced around the room. Well. He should know how to get out of this place. "Can you just bring me wherever you'll go? I assume you won't be staying in here."

"Gooses, no! Of course I can't leave you here! This place is as boring as four walls can get. I may be Darkness but I'm not Sadist." There was a Sadist? OK, that might not be good. Better getting stuck with Darkness than with a Sadistic being, who's probably immortal and more inhuman than the guy spinning in circles in front of her.

Darkness spun around once more but this time, he tripped on his own ankle and fell on the floor. She felt her mouth involuntarily flinching as he picked himself up from the floor without even an ounce of dignity lost. He still kept a haughty air about even when his physical features would have said otherwise.

"Helpful hint: Wait until you're sober before trying that again," she suggested. "This is weird, seeing Darkness tripping in the dark. Weird when you say it. Weirder when you see it. You'd think you have some sort of superiority over shadows."

"Humph. I never drink, I tell you. Those bitter, awful cocktails. I don't get why you humans love them so much. And of course I can control shadows. That was an unintended accident." Brushing off invisible dust on the sleeves of his shirt and pants, he turned to face her. "Call me Dark, by the way. Darkness is so long, and it makes me sound evil." He did give off a frightening vibe when he grinned wickedly earlier, but she dared not mention it. Dark continued talking, "And, speaking of names, we should give you one. Let's see..."

"Wait, you're choosing?"

"How about Number Three?"

"I may not remember who I am, but that I'm not stupid. That's worse than 'Darkness'."

"You be Wednesday, then," he announced triumphantly, raising a fist for effect.

"Don't tell me. You watch The Adams Family?"

"No. But you have that same blank expression that she does. You don't smile enough."

She rolled her eyes. "You'll smile enough for the both of us, with that hyperactive Simulacrum of Self of yours. You must have drugged yourself with sugar. Barrels of it."

He narrowed his eyes at her. "Hey, watch it! I like sugar! I'll give you some rules and Rule Number One is to Never Insult Me With Sweets. "