Darkness of the Soul

Recovery

Jack...

A high-pitched sound pierced Jack's dreamless sleep. Then another. And another. And another.

The boy moaned, complaining. The irritating noise continued in spite. Jack opened his eyes, in order to find the source and shut it up. Only for piercing white light to assault his vision. He let out another moan as he shut his eyes tight.

It was then the boy felt a cocoon of warmth around him and his head was buried in plush. A bed? Jack forced his eyes open again. His retinas burned for a few moments at the intense light until he suddenly made out a white ceiling and a panel of fluorescent light above him.

Beep... Beep... Beep...

Jack glanced to his left to see a series of screens, numbers etched across them. A desk, covered with bright screens, glyphs scrawling over them.

He noticed a bag filled with clear liquid, a tube extending from its end to the crook of his arm. He reattached the cable, and Jack screamed as his body convulsed.

The teenager was nestled underneath three thin, white blankets, wrapped precariously around him. A soft and warm material was pressed against his skin. All of his senses were robbed, except for the intense pain that invaded his muscles.

Taking in the greyish-white walls around him in a modest-sized room, Jack realized. He was in St. Maria's Hospital, in Jasper. Jack didn't know how long it took for his white vision to be replaced by shapes. Distorted, discolored shapes.

Pain pulsed from behind Jack's eyes. The boy gritted his teeth and raised a hand to his face to massage his brow, in a vain attempt to alleviate the headache. Jack felt strangely disconnected from his body. He couldn't think straight, his train of thought breaking before he could form a whole one.

What happened? Why was he in the hospital?

"Jack..." a soft, concerned voice spoke.

The boy's heart fluttered and he looked to his right to see deep blue eyes, just like his. Raven-black hair, identical to his own, was tied into a high-ponytail.

"Mom," Jack choked out. He was startled to hear how hoarse it sounded.

Jack shifted to sit up, only to flinch as the bed let out a humming sound. He felt the mattress, which he realized was alternatively pressurized, readjust to his weight. Suddenly he felt a dull throb from his right leg, spurred by the sudden movement. Then Jack remembered.

There was a sound of grating stone and the crushing weight on Jack's leg disappeared.

"Very well, human..."

Megatron. The Decepticons. They captured him. They took him aboard the Nemesis.

Jack closed his eyes. He remembered Knock Out and Megatron standing over him. That never-ending, unbearable agony. Then he dreamed and dreamed. Of the past.

He regarded the woman before him. Was... was this another dream?

"Are you... real?" he murmured before he could stop himself. To a sane mind, it must have sounded like a ridiculous question. Mom merely smiled, assuring.

"I'm here, sweety," she hummed in that whisper soft tone.

Without his permission, Jack's throat tightened. It was really Mom. Not a ghost, like the ones had haunted him.

"Mom..." he whined, his voice pathetically small.

Suddenly the sixteen-year-old felt like a little boy again. He wanted to forget all the pain and suffering in the world, and only care about the warmth of his mother's arms. All he had to was lean forward, June reacted automatically.