Fawkes

Memories are the Worst Form of Torture

A steady beeping. So steady it immediately woke me up. Something that regular and rhythmic was abnormal for me to be experiencing, especially after the irregularity of the last five days. I groaned and opened my eyes. The first thing I saw was my foot suspended in the air, my broken ankle in a thick cast. I groaned, examining the room. The walls were eggshell, the lights were a harsh white, and the bed smelled of hand sanitizer.

There was a chair next to me, but it was empty save for a jacket over the back. A jacket I recognized as Dick's.

I shifted, wincing as the small movement sent pain up and down my body in a wave. There were voices outside, and suddenly the door opened. A doctor came in, looking surprised to see me looking back at her.

"You're awake," she said, and I raised an eyebrow.

"Am I? Didn't notice."

"Did I hear her say she's awake?" Asked a voice from outside, and soon Wally's head was peeking inside, stumbling forward.

"Don't push me!"

"I wasn't pushing you—"

"Really? I'm pretty sure what you just did is the definition of pushing, but okay—"

"Would you just move, West?"

Artemis barged in after him, giving the doctor a look. She stepped out of the way immediately, and Artemis kicked the door so it was wide open.

I saw the whole team, dressed in regular clothing, standing at the threshold of the room.

I couldn't look at their faces. I averted my gaze immediately, blinking away unwanted images of them all lying dead on the training room floor. I tried to plaster on a smile, focusing on the crowd that came in next.

Behind them was the Justice League, also in regular clothing and, otherwise, disguises. Even Bruce was dressed as Bruce, and Aqualad kept glancing at him in slight wonder. I guess this was the first time he revealed his true identity to the team. I almost felt flattered. Almost.

What really made me start laughing, however, was the shirts that Superman, Wonder Woman, Green Arrow, Green Lantern, Aquaman, Martian Manhunter, and the Flash were wearing. They were clearly homemade, all of them with an iron pressed photo of Batman on the front with the words "Batman: loving vigilante, father to a massive ego, and admitter of wrongance" printed underneath.

"I really love these," a man with brown hair was saying as he filed in behind Wonder Woman. I guessed he was the Flash, as he had the same lean body type and long legs.

"Wrongance is not a word," grumbled who I recognized by voice as Green Lantern, who gave me a glance of dislike as he passed to my bedside.

The room became very crowded very quickly, and the doctor checked my heartbeat and blood pressure before leaving.

"You really got them all to wear the shirts?" I asked Bruce, who was watching me with a small smile.

"Oh, we made them the minute he told us about it," said Green Arrow, or Oliver, "he actually tried to convince us not to."

I laughed, then winced as my stomach clenched in pain. On my left was the team, and on my right was the Justice League. The only person that was missing was Dick. I scanned every face and then the door, but he wasn't there.

"How are you feeling?" M'gann asked, pulling out a Tupperware, "I brought cookies. They're a little charred, but it's a new recipe, and I wanted you to be the first to try it—"

"We also brought you your own t-shirt," interrupted the Flash, tossing said shirt to me, "we may have all gotten off on the wrong foot, but you're still one of us, and we don't leave anyone behind—"