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Amnesia and Star Child	By : coldblood Category: Singers/Bands/Musicians > Linkin Park Views: 1642 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not know the members of Linkin Park. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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Leila sat down next to Mike who was lying shirtless on the bed - having had been stripped to boxers in an attempt to cool him down.
He was sweating, whimpering every now and then; Leila held the damp cloth up and dabbed it across her old friend’s forehead, trying to cool the feverous temperature.
“How’s he going?” Phoenix peeked around the door.
“Not too good. I checked his temperature a minute ago and he’s burning up.” Leila sighed. “I don’t know how much higher it can go before he gets too sick...”
Phoenix sighed and walked into the room, sitting down next to her and looking down at his fellow band member.
“I don’t get it. I just don’t get it. It’s like - I mean - it’s like he’s suffering withdrawal...” The bassist scratched his head - utterly baffled.
Leila sat in silence for a moment, pondering Phi’s words.
“Maybe that’s not such stupid idea. What if Rosie was like a drug to him?” She looked up and stared at Phoenix who looked rather skeptical.
“Right. And my name is Jesus. I mean - that’s just crazy.” He muttered. “Do you really think the others are going to believe he’s suffering withdrawal because the alien has left Earth?”
Phoenix pointed to the wall where just beyond the lounge room where everyone else was, was.
“Probably not, but after all of that, I really don’t think it’s that impossible.” Leila shrugged.
The short red haired man sighed deeply and neither said anything more.
“Guys, I’m going to move.” Mike announced.
He was still lying down, and his eyes remained closed.
“What?” Both Leila and Phoenix stared.
“I’m going to move. I was given a gift by Hapchuek, and I want to take it... I’m going to move to Scotland.” The emcee murmured.
“Mike - shit are you feeling alright? I mean, isn’t it a bit stupid to be making huge decisions like this when you’re sick?” Phoenix blurted without any prior thought.
Mike sighed.
“I’m not sick. Not like that.” The emcee sat up and pulled himself away from the two, walking out to the lounge room, either oblivious - or indifferent to the fact he was only in his boxers.
Leila and Phoenix hurried after him.
“Everyone. I’m going to Scotland. I’m going home.” Mike said to everyone sitting in the room.
Everyone stared.
“You’re what? Home? Mike are you okay...?” The general questions were.
“I’m going to Scotland.” He repeated resolutely.
There was no budging him; they all knew it by the waves flowing through them from Mike’s telepathy.
He was going whether they liked it or not.
“Well you’re not going anywhere without me.” Chester stood up, grinding his teeth. “I made a mistake once and I’m not going to do it again.”
No one else moved for a long while - and then Joe stood up.
“I agree with Chaz. We all made mistakes. And I’m not going to get all the sappy crap, but we’re more than just a band. We’re family - and where you go - I’m coming too.” Joe said stubbornly.
“Me too.” Brad stood up as well.
“We’ll all go. Start afresh.” Rob added, standing up also.
Very soon, everyone was standing, all of them voicing their desire to follow Mike.

~*~*~

It was a few months before we moved to Scotland, all of us were nervous and no one knew what we should be expecting.
But we’ve been here nearly a week now, settled in a remote town on the shores of Loch Ness.
Home.
I don’t know why it feels so much like home, it just does.
Every night I’d take the time to just sit out on the rocks and look out over the flat loch surface, sometimes wondering why I never see Nessie, or wondering why whenever I feel a strange sensation, I jump like someone startled me.
It’s weird.
On this particular evening, I was once again out on my usual rock, just looking out over the glassy water, with Cat sitting next to me, curled up in a ball so he was pretty much invisible.
“Ay! What yer doin’ si’n’ thar like that?” I turn and see a man walking up to me.
He looks like a fisherman - shit he smells like one too... God what a pong!
“Just sitting.” I reply calmly.
I don’t bother standing up, I just shift my position on my rock a little as he comes up to me and sits down next to me.
“Yer a yank aye?” He asks.
I pause and blush slightly.
“Yeah. I’m a yank. My name’s Mike.” I reach out my hand.
“Arnie... Yer not ral new ter these parts are yer?” Arnie says with a knowing look as he shakes my hand.
“What? I’ve been to Scotland before if that’s what you mean.” I look at him sideways - confused as hell.
What is this old clap trap on about?
Well, I mean... He’s not that old.
He looks about in his forties; he has dark almost black eyes and brown grey hair. His hands are calloused and he’s pretty tall - he reminds me actually, a lot of Phoenix.
Arnie shakes his head.
“Neigh lad. You have that look in yer eye - yer a born Scottish if I ever sar one an’ yet yer a yank.” He says observantly, his hand caressing his stubbly chin thoughtfully.
“Sorry Arn, but I ain’t no Scottish. I just moved here a week ago from the U.S.” I reply with a shrug of my shoulders.
“Ah, never mind yer.” Arnie shrugs. “So what brought yer ‘ere to ol’ Loch Ness?”
“I just wanted to move here I guess. I came with my buddies too so it’s like I brought home.” I don’t really know what I’m going on about, but I don’t particularly care.
Arnie looks up at the clear sky towards the horizon, at the full moon that’s gliding up from behind the mountains.
“Thar’s a tale of an ol’ man who lives around these parts.” Arnie says vaguely.
“Oh? Like what?” I ask, lazily gliding the sole of my shoe over the flat water surface.
“They say that on cold nights like thes, when it’s still an’ you can almost swar hat yer can walk on the loch as though it were jus’ ice, that an ol’ lad men like ter call ol’ Hideaway Fingal comes out an’ plays his flute. So they say he’s a real master. ” Arnie sits silently for a while.
“You ever seen this dude?” I ask.
Arnie shakes his head.
“Neigh. Ne’er ‘eard the bastard neiver. I dun think much fer most folk tales, and I dun much fer thas one or. Our bar man Kay is a spinner of those tales. Soon he starts story tellin’, turn off coz ‘e ain’t telling truth or blatant fact. His tales though aren’t bad aye. He knows how ter tell yer a story or two.” Arnie smiles.
“I’ll bear that in mind.” I reply, looking out to the other side of the loch.
“Well lad, take care of yerself. I’ll be around - no doubt yer gonna see me out on ther boat. I’ll see yer around lad.” Arnie stands up and walks off.
“Later Arnie.” I wave to him before getting up myself, heading back up to my cottage close by.
Cat follows me obediently, and when I lay down under the blankets on my bed, he instantly curls up just behind my neck, purring - it’s not long before he’s asleep.
I stay awake though, just sitting here staring into the darkness, my fingers caressing my pan flute.
Leila gave it to me for my birthday a month before we came into Scotland, and as it turned out, she was a wiz at playing it too, she taught me and I got the hang of it right away - they’ve decided I’m a natural.
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Amnesia and Star Child