Awakening 1.3
I think I was ten when I watched that movie about the kid who could see ghosts. There were two versions of that; one from Aleph, which was purely supernatural, and another from Bet, where the kid was a Parahuman. A lot of people liked the Aleph version better, either because it didn't bother trying to science everything about the power and just had a better plot over all, or, for the Cape geeks and scientists, because powers just don't work that way, apparently.
I'm starting to think that they might have been wrong.
Considering my roommate was both recently deceased and watching me from the corner of the room, I'm also positive that I've got some good evidence against them. Of course, it could also mean that I'm just going insane, but since I really don't want that to be true, I just stuck with the whole 'I have a weird power now' explanation.
"Are you alright, dear?"
I shook my head off that train of thought. The one who spoke was one of the younger nurses, probably lower thirties at worst. Contrary to the cliché fictional depiction of nurses, her body was closer to being stocky than curvaceous, and was at least a head shorter than I was, clad in a crisp and clean scrub uniform. Her black hair was tied into a tight bun, and had the telltale signs of fading dye. She was smiling at me; it was small, but still noticeable on her lightly tanned face. A pair of thick rimmed glasses was perched on her vaguely Asiatic features. It gave her the look of someone who was serious about her job, but still very approachable. Her name tag identified her as Paula Crystobal.
I stammered as I tried to think of something to say. Obviously, mentioning the ghost of my roommate was a bad idea. I'd probably end up getting thrown into a mental asylum if I did. But it wasn't like I was ever any good at making excuses, at least on the fly. That Morris seemed to notice this and find some amusement in it didn't help.
"I... Yes, I was just... thinking of something. I'm fine, really," I decided to answer with a half truth. The last thing I wanted was make the woman who looked like she could pin me down with one arm despite her height disadvantage think I was crazy. Not that that was saying much. While she wasn't burly, Paula's arms were far from flabby, so most of that was probably muscle. Meanwhile, here I was: a beanpole with moderate aversion to exercise, as can be testified to by my...
I looked down at my stomach. My decidedly skinnier stomach, devoid of all fat that I know was there before. Hell, after the winter break, it was probably bigger than the last time I went to school.
"My stomach if flat." It came out more as a flat (heh) statement than the question I meant it to be. Then again, between being chosen by a goddess to stop the end of the world and finding out that the guy I was talking to was recently deceased; losing a paunch that was the result of over a year's worth of sedentary living and stress induced hormonal imbalances didn't seem all that special.
The nurse rolled her eyes, a bemused smile on her face. "Kids these days," she snorted, quietly enough to be a whisper, but still loud enough to make it clear she intended for me to hear it. For the briefest of moments, I felt dread pooling in my stomach as my mind went back to Winslow, before the winter break began; to all the people who'd spit barbs at me while poorly feigning conversation. If it weren't for the gentleness shining in her eyes and the lack of venom on her expression, I might have done something worse than just flinching like I did. Sadly, as short as that was, it was still noticed.
"Are you sure you're okay? You seem a little pale." The concern in Paula's voice seemed to double from before, equaling the expression on her face. Off to the side, a flash of blue caught my attention. A short glance revealed Morris's questioning stare, his body seeming tenser than before.
"It's nothing," I said, trying to reassure them both, "just some bad memories is all. Nothing to worry about."
The looks on their faces made it all too obvious that they didn't buy it, but neither seemed to want to press the issue.
"If you're sure. I'll take your word for it, Ms. Hebert," the nurse relented hesitantly, the frown on her face remaining. She eyed me up and down, scrutinizing me in silence. The intensity of it all made me look away. "Are you hungry then? Thirsty?" she asked. I shook my head at the first but nodded at the second. "Alright. Just relax and I'll go fetch you something to drink."
She left not long afterwards, taking only a brief moment at the door to ask me not to disturb the other patient's belongings, regardless of their condition. A part of me wanted to argue that I had said patient's permission, but held my tongue. That would just lead to more questions that I didn't want to answer. Besides, now that she was gone, it was the perfect time for me to have another chat with Morris. He probably thought the same thing, having approached my bedside as soon as Paula began walking out. Now he was leaning back on the wall to my left, arms crossed and with a questioning scowl on his face as he stared at me.
I was somehow able to meet his eyes with my own, probably because there didn't seem to be any animosity there. It was probably just his default expression whenever he wasn't laughing to himself at my social floundering.
It was obvious he was waiting for me to talk first. Not that I blamed him. I'm pretty sure this wasn't normal by any means, but if all dead people became ghosts, then the unnatural part clearly lay with me, so he probably didn't know anything. Come to think of it, he'd just died, so I shouldn't even expect him to know much about being a ghost either.
Dammit, I really was going to have to take initiative in this, wasn't I?
Alright, Taylor, it's fine. You can do this. You've only gone about a year or so with minimal socialization. It wasn't like you forgot everything there is to talking with other people. Sure, none of those involved talking about suddenly being the protagonist of a horror film, but hey, Mother Nature said that I was adaptive. I can deal with this. I just had to think of the best way broach the proper conversation topic. Shouldn't be too hard.
"So, you're dead."
I all but slammed my face into my palms as soon as the words left my mouth.
Mother Nature, Gaia, Terra, Prithvi, whatever name you want me to call you, can we please renegotiate about that part of the contract where I need to be alive? I could really use being six feet under right about now. Maybe with some cement for good measure.
"No, I'm pretty sure I already said my name was Morris, ma'am."
...
My head rose slowly, as if it wasn't under my complete control, and stared up at him in disbelief. He looked back with the most serious face I'd ever seen outside of grandpa's old pictures from when he was in the marines. I blinked owlishly, once, twice, and a third time. He didn't even blink once. I snorted despite myself, the sound coming up muffled as I tried to keep it at bay. The corners of his mouth quirked up into a subtle smirk. It was the straw that broke the camel's back.
By the time I was done laughing, there was already a part of me that was worried that someone had heard and that I'd find myself in a straitjacket soon enough. The rest just enjoyed the shot endorphins coursing through my brain. The joke wasn't even that funny -it was a dad joke, or course it wasn't funny- but the contrast between it and the look on his face and tone of his voice just got to me somehow. He'd joined me not long after I started laughing earnestly, though his a lot more subdued.
"Feeling better now, brat?"
At any other time, I might have taken offense to that title. Right now, I was a little too grateful for it. I think that might have been the first time I've genuinely laughed in a long time. It felt great. In fact, "I think think might be the best I've felt for a long time, actually," I told him, a wide smile on my face, "Thanks for that."
"Heh, don't think too much about it," he replied nonchalantly, "you wouldn't be the first teenaged girl I've taken care of. I've had a lot of practice on what to expect and how to take care of it."
"Oh?" I perked up in curiosity, "You have a daughter?"
He shook his head in reply. "Not legally, no, but she might as well have been," he said, eyes trailing to something beyond me. I think it might have been the plaque I'd placed back beside his bed. "I don't really have a family to call my own. Closest thing there is is this one girl I helped my brother adopt." A wistful smile spread across his face, laughing at memories long passed. "That was nearly thirty years ago, back when I was still military, so I couldn't do it myself. Though once I decided to start working for the PRT instead, I ended up with a little bit more time to help take care of her; help her through her issues and all that. She was just as socially awkward then as your are now, maybe more."
That would certainly explain the imposing aura Morris seemed to have whenever he wasn't having his bits of fun. I took some offense to his comments about me but honestly, as much as I wanted to argue otherwise, I couldn't exactly refute his assessment. It was a little easier to do that now. Maybe there really was something to that whole 'laughter is the best medicine' spiel. I'd just have to try and laugh some more now, I guess.
Getting things back on track wasn't all that difficult from there. He told me a little about his limited experience as a ghost and how first came to as one, as foggy as that had been, in his own words. Paula came in at some point in between, pushing a cart with a glass of water, a pitcher of the same, and a small spread that you'd expect to find in a cafeteria; the latter two were set on my desk for later, and she insisted that I'd feel hungry at some point. From her, I learned about how and why I was here and, more importantly, with a dead body.
I was in the ICU, for one, which, thinking back, was something the nurse had already mentioned when she first came in. This was the fourth day (technically, as it was well past midnight) that Morris Jacobson's body had been in. He'd been my roommate since the day after I was admitted; he finally gave up the ghost(Oh God that was both dark and funny. What's wrong with me?) about three hours ago. They were still in the middle of processing his transfer to the morgue. Finally, what she'd been telling me about earlier, and the reason I was had lost most of my belly fat was because Panacea had come in -something that Paula seemed oddly frustrated about- and made some rounds to heal a few people, myself included.
I really only noticed that I no longer needed my glasses then.
I could either be transferred in the morning, after dad was informed, or I could choose to be transferred now. I chose to stay. Morris said something about a limit on how far he could leave before he just 'blacked out' and found himself above his body again. I wanted to talk to him a bit more. Maybe get some insights into whatever powers I received.
When Paula finally left, Morris continued on with his little tale. Eventually, the subject matter turned to me. I... wasn't quite ready to talk about my issues just yet, but he didn't push. It was nice; like talking to that cool uncle that a lot of kids and teenagers had in books and shows.
It didn't take me long to doze off, my stomach now full. Paula was right in the end, I guess.
-X-
I expected another meeting with Mother Nature before I woke up. Maybe then she could tell me how exactly I was supposed to stop the end of the world with my super 'I see dead people' powers. That was not the case.
Instead of having another conversation in my dreams, I ended up with none at all. It was like I just blinked for a moment and night had suddenly turned to day. Morning light streamed through the windows above, made all the more noticeable by the fact that the room's own lights had been turned off again.
I sat up and stretched, my back giving off a satisfying crack as I yawned the rest of my tiredness away. A brief glance at the wall clock (6:42) told me that it was surprisingly early, considering how late it was when I went to sleep, but I didn't really feel like going back to doing the same.
Instead, I took the what water remained in the pitcher and drank it before getting off my bed entirely.
Paula had told me that I'd been cleared to do so by my doctor after Panacea's visit. I only really had to stay for bureaucratic reasons now; final tests that they needed to do to make sure that Panacea had done everything correctly, even if they themselves had no doubt about my health. Beyond that, I was allowed to walk around on my own, although given this was the ICU, the only nearby areas I was permitted to enter were the lounge and rest room. The latter of which was my destination.
I took a glance back into the room before leaving, taking note of the conspicuous absence of one Morris Jacobson, in both body and spirit. It made me a little sad, but it's not like I didn't expect it. He seemed to be limited in where he could go by the location of his body. They must have processed his corpse already. I could probably see him (and likely a lot more ghosts) if I went to the morgue, but I neither knew where that was, nor could I think of any reason to explain my being there this early. I'd think about it later. For now, I had some other business to take care of.
There were a few other ghosts I saw on the way there. Most often, they were around a grieving relative, fruitlessly trying to console them. They weren't that hard to pick out, now that I focused on it. All of them had this faint blue aura around them, and their forms never cast a shadow.
I ignored them as best as I could. The last thing I needed was to get hounded by dead people who wanted me to pass on a message or something. That would just get attention, and was more trouble than I was willing to deal with.
When I got back to the door of my room, it was to find Paula already inside, (Damn, are the shifts she takes this long?) talking to two people. I didn't get a good look at them at first, but when I opened the door, I realized that I recognized one of the voices.
"Dad?" I called out as I came into the room.
Sure enough, he was there, eyes turning towards me in an instant. He looked haggard, with bags under his green eyes and his already balding dark brown hair looking even more like a mess, matching his wrinkled clothes and slouched shoulders. Still, the relief in his eyes was obvious as he looked at me. I was in hug before I even noticed him move, his arms pressing me into him tightly as he apologized to me and told me how happy he was that I was alright, over and over again. I closed my eyes and just savored the moment. I could actually feel my shoulder getting wet as seconds ticked on, but the feeling of safety and comfort that just being in my dad's embrace brought to me made it all worth it and more.
"I love you too, dad," I said to him, not really able to think of anything else to say. It felt like enough.
"I love you too, Taylor," he sobbed his answer, but it didn't make it any less important to me. Now I was sure that it was enough.
His hold around me loosened, but he didn't let me go just yet.
In return, I opened my eyes to look at the other two in the room.
To one side was Paula, her face set in a happy smile of her own. She gave me a nod of a approval when she noticed that I was looking. Opposite her was-
My eyes widened, my breath hitched, and I could swear my heart stopped cold in my chest at the sight.
A woman stood there, behind where dad had been. She was a thin woman, maybe an inch or two taller than I was. Her hair, curly and a shining black, fell down to her waist. Her spectacled face looked at me with relief and joy, her wide, thin lipped smile making it's bittersweet nature all the more apparent. A faint blue aura surrounded her form, and behind her was a distinct lack of a shadow.
I knew this woman. I've known her for all my life, but I never expected to see her standing on her own again.
The words spoken to me in my dream came back, unbidden, but not unwelcome.
"Just know that I am certain you will come to appreciate this power in time; in very, very short order. After all, even if I am using you, it doesn't mean that I cannot reward you for your willingness to help me."
I didn't really think much about what that meant, not until this moment. Not even after I found out I could see the spirits of the dead. It didn't really cross my mind, just what that implied.
Now though, it was right here in front of me, I understood.
It was my turn to cry now, and there was no stopping as my tears began to run down my face. I tried to speak, but couldn't manage more than a word.
"Mom..."
