When awareness came, it brought with it an unfamiliar heaviness. Mello observed the sensation at a safe, unnatural distance, blinking at the white ceiling overhead with a dazed and unfocused expression. There was no sense of pain and nothing covering him beyond the thin blanket, but he was acutely aware of the density of his body. It didn't seem to belong to him.
His eyes drifted towards the door as he considered the limp, weighted feeling. The knob jostled in its place as someone shoved a key into the lock, but he didn't move. Absently, he looked back to the ceiling. Was he alive? His body had never felt more corpselike, but he couldn't summon the energy to care. Why care? This place would just repeat--
An instant later the present hit him with clarity strong enough to have its own inertia, and even after his initial gasp Mello felt the room with a staticky, dizzy freshness. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and by the time the nurse entered, his eyes were upon her.
"Good morning, Michael," she said. She looked crisp and eager for the coming day, drenched in an enthusiasm only permitted to those who remembered nothing else.
Something had touched him and changed him. He watched her with tense suspicion as he tried to pull his own sensations into reasonable words. There were chemicals, several corrosives and other acids. Matt had them now. He'd get them later.
"You must need a fresh bite to eat after last night," she said, and when he nodded the world shuddered, but didn't lose its mooring.
Mello followed her into the cafeteria, but the distant haze of indifference didn't lift. He stared at the walls, at the floor. It was hard to focus, but necessary. When the woman moved him through the line he picked up two full glasses of chocolate milk and little else. Mello took a seat in the corner, where he could easily watch the others without rousing suspicion. He wasn't sure that the effects of whatever touched him had been dispelled, and he didn't want to take any chances.
no subject
When awareness came, it brought with it an unfamiliar heaviness. Mello observed the sensation at a safe, unnatural distance, blinking at the white ceiling overhead with a dazed and unfocused expression. There was no sense of pain and nothing covering him beyond the thin blanket, but he was acutely aware of the density of his body. It didn't seem to belong to him.
His eyes drifted towards the door as he considered the limp, weighted feeling. The knob jostled in its place as someone shoved a key into the lock, but he didn't move. Absently, he looked back to the ceiling. Was he alive? His body had never felt more corpselike, but he couldn't summon the energy to care. Why care? This place would just repeat--
An instant later the present hit him with clarity strong enough to have its own inertia, and even after his initial gasp Mello felt the room with a staticky, dizzy freshness. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and by the time the nurse entered, his eyes were upon her.
"Good morning, Michael," she said. She looked crisp and eager for the coming day, drenched in an enthusiasm only permitted to those who remembered nothing else.
Something had touched him and changed him. He watched her with tense suspicion as he tried to pull his own sensations into reasonable words. There were chemicals, several corrosives and other acids. Matt had them now. He'd get them later.
"You must need a fresh bite to eat after last night," she said, and when he nodded the world shuddered, but didn't lose its mooring.
Mello followed her into the cafeteria, but the distant haze of indifference didn't lift. He stared at the walls, at the floor. It was hard to focus, but necessary. When the woman moved him through the line he picked up two full glasses of chocolate milk and little else. Mello took a seat in the corner, where he could easily watch the others without rousing suspicion. He wasn't sure that the effects of whatever touched him had been dispelled, and he didn't want to take any chances.