ｒｅｓｔａｒｔ (st)

023: ᴛʜᴇ ᴅɪᴠᴇ

"Do you know what happens when someone has a stroke?"

Papa's voice pierced Jordans ears and brought her out of her thoughts. The chair she sat in was cold, and the loose sweatshirt and sweatpants she wore burned against her skin after regaining the memories of who wore them once before.

Els hand, however, was firm and comforting, held tightly inside her own.

They sat in a small confined room, faced with dozens of photos of the human brain.

Papa continued his explanation, "The blood supply to the brain is cut off. It scrambles the signals in the brain to the point where the mind can forget how to do things."

El's brows furrowed in confusion.

"To eat, to speak. To walk."

Jordan slipped on the stark white wetsuit, the weights on her chest providing an almost comforting, grounded feeling. She velcroed the straps onto her shoulders and properly looked at herself in the mirror for the first time.

Her eyes held evidence of both exhaustion and fear. Her hair was clipped down to her scalp. She ran her hands over the prickly top, and thoughts of her friends floated into her mind. They had never seen her looking like this. The only one who had ever seen her in this state -- shaven head, covered head to toe in white, eyes wide with fear -- was Max.

She thought of the last time she had seen Max, and her thoughts drifted back to Starcourt. Papa's words came into her mind.

"When you girls were attacked last year, I believe that your signals were scrambled in much the same way. But just as a stroke victim can learn to walk again, I believe you both can return to your full power."

Jordans reminiscing was cut short when sharp knocks arose at her door. She swung it open to reveal both Dr Owens and El in an identical wetsuit.

Dr Owens looked almost remorseful as he spoke, "Are you ready?"

"Your abilities are still in here. You just need to remember."

Papa had put his hands on their heads as he said that. Jordan had always hated the feeling of Papa's touch. His hands on her temple as he placed wires onto her head, his hands on her shoulders as he guided her through a lesson, his hand on hers as he explained a particular experiment that would be difficult for her to understand. They were always cold. Like him.

But when Max held her waist when they first met as she taught her how to skateboard down their old driveway? When Mike held her hand as they sped down the Hawkins Middle hallways in '84? When El hugged her for the first time when they had reunited? When Hop and Joyce held her as she cried?

They were different. They were warm. Good.

That's what had grounded her as she nodded her response to Owens, before linking arms with her sister and walking down the halls of the underground bunker.

She heard monitors playing as they neared their destination, and remembered Papa's demonstration of them.

"Everything that took place in my lab was captured on videotape. Every success and every failure. It's important for you children to not just see your past, but to fully re-experience it. In doing so, I believe we can repair your broken signals. As we saw tonight, that process has already begun."

He had shown them the videotapes of the previous memory they were in, with the circle of lights and the blonde orderly's whispered encouragements.

"If this all really happened," Jordan had asked, "Then why don't we remember?"