It was the middle of the day and something had been nagging at Sirius ever since he left the Garden of Eden.
In fact, the thing was starting to smell.
No one was in the room. It was almost time for history class, and Alpha was now independent enough to get a head start on his own while the rest of House Uriel caught up.
But what Sirius had to decide was of a timely matter. Soon the opportunity would rot away, and he'll lose his chance at reclaiming his past.
He reached beneath his paper-scroll shaped bed. Behind a couple of boxes of books was a white bag with the logo of SGA on it. It was faded and tattered, but still had enough cloth around it to hide the contents of the inside, but not the smell. Already Alpha was starting to accuse Sirius of farting too much and stinking up the suite.
No, he had to make a decision right now. He opened up the bag and saw it.
The fruit from the Tree of Knowledge.
It was originally purple, but its color faded blue. White fuzz was starting to grow at the North and South poles of the round fruit. He could peel away the rot and savor the few good parts. Would the knowledge that came along with it be just as reduced?
The smell of the fruit was strong, like sulfur mixed with pollen. It made Sirius sneeze. Maybe he should just throw it away and be done with it.
But why had Jurgen given him the fruit? What did he know about Sirius's past that Sirius himself was unaware of? Could this fruit—could it fix that?
If Jurgen was going to get in trouble for stealing the fruit, then why couldn't Sirius sneak one out of the Garden with him? After all, Jurgen would take the blame and he did have a point—there was plenty of fruit to go around.
Sirius thought back to the flashes of his past. He had pieces of it—scraps of shredded paper that when pieced together spelled messages of murder and fear. Did he really want to figure out his past? Maybe he had forgotten it on purpose. Maybe it was for the best—otherwise how else would he have harmonized in such a close-knit environment as SGA, where comrades had to look after each other? Would they be satisfied if they found out that one of their comrades was dipped longer in the fountain of sin than others?
Sirius heard someone open the door to the building. He had thirty seconds at most to make the decision. He couldn't keep this burden any longer than that—he couldn't delay the decision any further.
He tried peeling away the fuzz with his nails. His hands looked like they bled purple and blue—like a busted bruise. He removed as much corruption the fruit had endured and gulped what was pitifully left in its entirety.
Sirius's brain snapped. It was as if he heard the sound of an explosion behind him. He jolted and turned back, but no one was there. Then he turned forward and felt the sensation of whiplash. A patch of memories washed over him—not many to complete every puzzle, but enough to make more educated guesses.
Except one answer—one puzzle was nearing completion, just a single piece away—a very important missing piece. This frustration—it only opened the door to more questions. He wished for more fruit, he tried to pick up the skin from the floor and eat it, but it had faded to ash and dissolved into the tiled floor.
Sirius clawed at the floor and pounded it in frustration.
Someone knocked on the door behind him. He got up and opened the door.
And there was Luke, standing there with the missing piece to complete the first puzzle of many.
"Sirius!" Luke smiled. "Meet our new suitemate, Nathan."