Aqualad One-Shots

Resurrection

Kaldur pulled down on the brim of his baseball cap, making certain it was securely on top of his head, and looked around the hall.

He didn't know what to expect, but the crowd that surged through the Metropolitan Museum of Art for the opening of the first Atlantean gallery was a pleasant surprise. Aquaman, of course, was in attendance, along with Queen Mera and their son. As bodyguards, La'gaan and Garth were at the King's side, along with Lori Lemaris, Atlantis's UN representative and an old friend from Kaldur's time at the Queen's Conservatory of Sorcery.

As King Orin continued his address to the crowd, Lori spotted Kaldur in the crowd, and gave him a small wave. Kaldur smiled reassuringly at her and nodded. She was the youngest UN representative currently holding that position, and she had only had such a position for a little less than a month, but Kaldur had confidence in her abilities, as did the Queen, which was enough for King Orin.

Kaldur would be right by his friend's side if he could, standing behind Lori in silent support, congratulating Topo on the success of his work, glaring at GBS cameras with La'gaan, or struggling to keep the squirming Prince still with Garth. If only those like G. Gordon Godfrey and Vicki Vale didn't recognize him as a traitor. Kaldur was temporarily excused by King Orin for his undercover actions in Atlantis, much to the chagrin of its Purist movement, but surface-worlders, as Kaldur had long since learned, were determined to hold grudges.

Still, his King had begged for Kaldur to attend with the rest of them, and Kaldur could hardly refuse. So he made work of the black ops training from long hours studying with Batman, Nightwing, and others, and blended in with the crowd, keeping an eye out for threats without the distraction of the cameras.

The crowd circled about Aquaman like sharks to anchovies, but a few circled the gallery, admiring mosaics, statues, and other works from Atlantis, some pieces dating back to long before the city descended before the seas. Finding the crowd too stifling, Kaldur went from painting to painting, always watching the crowd out of the corner of his eye for anything out of the ordinary.

He stopped in front of one of Topo's greatest pieces, the mosaic that told the story of Aqualad's rise. Kaldur would be lying if he said it was not his favorite, but he never was one to brag or blow his own horn

Being out of water made it look slightly less impressive, and there was no sound or narration, but Topo's magic still held firm, allowing the pictures to animate themselves when a viewer held their hand above the surface of the mosaic.

Kaldur watched the story play itself over and over again, always noticing the tiny, tentacle-headed figure in the corner beside Garth as he returned to studies at the conservatory.

Tula had teased Topo endlessly for inserting himself in the story, at least until Topo created a mosaic to tell the story of how Kaldur, Tula, Garth, and all their friends from the conservatory thwarted the Purist uprising lead by Oceanmaster and rescued the Queen and her unborn son. It was not as well done, with all the characters it had to portray, but all of them had loved it.

That mosaic had been destroyed in a Purist attack days before the gallery opening, a warning to those who harbored the Kaldur'ahm, the demon traitor.

Thankfully, no one had been injured, and even when Topo enthusiastically announced that he would be able to recreate the mosaic in much better condition, Kaldur couldn't help but feel guilty. He still had much to atone for.

"Quite a magnificent piece of work, isn't it?" Came a quiet, husky voice from Kaldur's right.

He looked down to see a short woman standing next to him, wearing a trenchcoat with a turned-up collar and a narrow-brimmed fedora to hide her face, as if that wasn't a suspicious cry for attention.

"Yes, yes it is," he agreed, folding his arms defensively.

The woman took a step forward, holding her hand up to the painting. Kaldur could just barely see the smile from under the brim of her hat as her hand sent ripples across the tiled surface, like a rock tossed into a puddle.

She stepped back, placing her hands in the pockets of her coat.

Deciding she posed no threat other than dressing strangely, Kaldur began to move on, but then she spoke again.

"You should be very proud, Aqualad."

Kaldur spun around, looking for the mysterious woman, and saw her squeezing out the exit through the crowd of newcomers brought in to gawk at Atlantean art.

"Wait!" Kaldur called out, running after the mysterious patron. He tried not to push and shove through the crowd, he really tried. He ran after them in short bursts, when there was no one in the way. He lost his cap, his disguise, but he didn't care.

Kaldur followed the patron out the door of the museum and onto the busy street of New York.

They walked at a brisk pace down the stairs, taking a right onto the sidewalk, and Kaldur quickly vaulted over the handrail right behind them and grabbed their arm.

"Who are you?" A brisk burst of wind carried away his question, along with the hat of his mysterious patron.

Her hair fell out of the hat, now long enough to brush her shoulders. It was a duller auburn-red than it used to be, except for one clashing white streak in her bangs. Her eyes still held that same mischievous glint, but their piercing blue color had faded to Gray, accompanied by dark half-moons beneath them. Her skin was paler, her few freckle-stars still standing out on her nose and cheeks almost like pinpoints of blood.

Her name dropped from his slackened jaw like it was a bomb he was afraid of accidentally setting off.

"Tula."

She smiled sadly, almost painfully, at him.

"Hello, Kaldur."