The distinct clapping of bare feet on a tiled floor. Orange light of the morning Pumpkin sun peeked through the curtains of his dorm room. Mot entered the bathroom, stifling a yawn with one hand and scratching his bedhead with the other. He headed straight for the mirror. Reaching to grab a toothbrush, something from the corner of his eyes stopped him.
Someone had been watching.

So this is him? The fragment thought to himself. This is the Real Mot?

Mot looked up. He saw his own reflection at first, but something about it was completely off. Was that what he wore to bed? He didn't recall owning something like that white hooded poncho. It was him, yet it wasn't.

He waved a hand, but the reflection delayed, hesitantly waving back with an uncertain expression.

Mot was spooked. Something was in his mirror, and it wasn't him. "Who are you?" He asked accusingly, worried a creeper ghost was playing tricks on him.

The fragment smiled wearily, Mot's surroundings somehow getting darker and darker. Walls all but disappeared as darkness engulfed everything but himself and his reflection.

I'm not anything, really.. but I was told of you and.. somehow.. after wishing so badly not to fade away I.. wanted to meet you myself.

Mot stared with an incredulous expression. Sorry, I um... The fragment tried to gather his courage to keep on. There was another world. In it were fragments. Fragments of memories who believed they were real. We learned the truth, and died over and over, told more than once that each death would be our last.

I.. we.. there were others there, however.. and they were not fragments. They were somehow connected to their real counterparts. I met some of them after learning the truth, and they told me about you. They said we were similar. They.. seemed very sad to see me suffer, because I had your face, you see.

I wanted you to know. Above all else.. not existsting, dying.. you need to know just how much these friends care about you. To be remembered after you die is more powerful than anything.. it makes you feel like you truly existed.

I don't know how I got here.. how I managed to find you.. but you should know. I feel like.. if my memories are passed to you? It will mean that I exist after death. A legacy. Could.. you do that for me?

Mot was dumbfounded. He felt as if he should question this guy's motives. He felt he shouldn't believe him, try not to fall for something that could be a trap. The room didn't exist anymore. It was black and empty. A void.

To be a fragment of someone's life, to be a void and somehow exist. Was it possible? How did that feel?

I don't.. have much time. If any at all. I understand if you say no. I really do.. its just.. they spoke so highly of you. Their words so touching.. I just...

Mot couldn't handle it. Despite how creepy it was, his fragment's downcast puppy dog eyes were working on him, even though he damn well invented it. In his heart of hearts, he could never say no to someone who seemed so sad, so desperate to exist.

"Anything I can do to help." Mot said with an uncertain smile. "I mean... if you're based on me in any way, then really in the end, don't you exist? A fragment isn't nothing.. a fragment is a smaller piece of something much bigger.. right?"

The fragment's breath caught in his throat. His eyes burned. He smiled again, without the pain or hurt.

Thank you...

- - - -

Mot awoke, his eyes slowly opening to the dimly lit room of his dorm. Terra Cotta eyes blinked once. Twice. Slowly, he pieced together his dream, and the memories that trickeld into his mind along with it.

The fragment's time in the Red Kingdom. Xiu as a King. Levi a Queen. Familliar faces everywhere. Them, yet not them.

An Illithid in a role unsuited to her nature, a strange and resounding feeling something almost happened between them.

A teary good bye from two ladies he knew well.

One he never thought would remember him at all again.

Another, who seemed almost heartbroken.

. . .

Mot gasped and shot up in bed. Just... what did some of those words from Gene mean?