Touch Of The Past

Chapter 19

Something's soft. Something's breathing. It's not dark, but not bright either.

Slowly, I open my eyes. First thing I see is something not white. Not green, not red, not black. I blink several times, trying to place the color. It reminds me of... The sky! When I'd seen it briefly, it had been black, but there was a slim shot of this color... It was... um. Not black. Blue!

Pleased at my placement of the color, I reach for it, to see if I can move. My hand comes into view, and I notice there's no long a shredded remain of a glove on it. It also has some kind of needle in, covered in tape and leading to a tube. The liquid inside is clear, and it doesn't appear to be burning me inside, so I don't pull it out. Yet.

I move my other hand, with a lot less success. It kind of flops into view, covered in stiff white material. I poke it with my other hand. No pain. There's no movement in the wrapped hand, though.

I notice the same material around my upper arm with the hand that can move. My eyes roam up, and I see a person sitting on a chair. A boy. Dark skin, like... What was his name, Waterlad. No, it started with an A. Agua... Aqualad. Aqualad. Like him. But it's not him. He's wearing a hat, glasses. T-shirt and jeans. He's fast asleep.

There's another boy, too, awake. He reminds me of-- no he is -- the boy who saved me from the lab. I recognize this cape, which is dangling onto the floor, as he is laying on the armrests, tapping away at a cell phone. His hair is black and he wears a mask over his eyes. He has a suit with a red top and black pants and some heavy duty boots. Then there's his belt. It's got everything in there.

Keeping my gaze on him, I watch how he flicks through his phone as if nothing keeps his interest, grinning sometimes and frowning in frustration at other times. I don't trust my voice, so I wait for him to notice me.

"URGH," he groans, flipping his body so he's sitting upright. He clenches his mouth and looks over to the boy with a grimace.

Then he glances at me and gives a start. His phone disappears into his belt and he gives a nervous grin. "Hey. How long have you been up?"

I shrug.

"Do you need anything?"

"Water?" My voice sounds horrible. Lack of use, maybe, too much screaming. Who knows? The boy nods and shouts "you got it!" before launching off the chair and running over to a sink. He fills a cup halfway and darts back over to me, holding it out proudly.

"Do you need help?" he asks when he sees the indecision on my face.

"No," I snap. I don't need help drinking water. Psh. My hand shakes as I raise it, but I grab the cup and hold it on my own. The boy gives me a proud look when I successfully drink it without spilling any.

"Anymore?"

"Yes." He beams and runs to get me another glass. He's very peppy, I decide. Like a cheerleader. "Thanks," I say when he hands me the glass again. Drinking water feels amazing, and he was considerate enough to make it cold.

"You probably want to talk to Tucker, huh?" he asks, setting the glass down beside me. "And Jazz! I can go get her for you!"

"Um, who?" Immediately, I know it's the wrong thing to say. The boy freezes up. "I mean, yes. I would like to talk to them," I correct hurriedly.

"Do you know who they are?" he asks in a hushed voice. Slowly, a shake my head. "Nothing? Geez, Batman told me your mind might be messed up but he didn't say this much... He and the others were pulled away on a League-wide mission, and Tucker was asleep and Jazz was gone, so they didn't hear about it..."