A/N: Hey guys and welcome to chapter 12 of Amnesiac! Let's start with mail.
Zatanna Carrile: Just think of what happened a few chapters ago. Don't worry about the name, that'll be coming soon enough... unless I change my mind of course!
Thanks to all of you who have favorited and followed this story, or have done both! Knowing you guys are at least interested in what I write makes my day!
'Kay, time to do the disclaimer. Robin, would you please do the honors?
*cackles* She doesn't own anything!
Alright, R&R and enjoy! Sorry if this ends odd, too, guys, just haven't been able to find good stopping points lately. WARNING: THIS IS A KIND OF SHOWER SCENE! There's nothing really bad in it, but I just want you guys to be prepared.
I breathe in sharply, my surprise no doubt scrawled across my face. Gingerly, I trace the puckered skin with a finger, feeling the dips and rises of the scar. It's odd, not being able to feel anything as my finger trails along the dead, grayish skin. The color almost seems to compliment the natural tone of my skin, in a gruesome way. For a moment, I wonder how I didn't somehow notice this earlier, and I have the odd feeling that I know where it came from.
My thoughts are interrupted by a small squeak and the rustle of cloth. I turn and look up to see Miss Martian standing at the entrance of the hallway, her cheeks a bright, embarrassed red. A shrill, startled noise of shock forces its way out of my mouth and the warmth of being camouflaged floods over me. We stand there in the deafeningly uncomfortable silence, me gaping at Miss Martian and Miss Martian probably staring at my completely visible, seemingly floating undergarments.
Miss Martian is the first to move. "I'm so sorry!" she exclaims, turning her head to the side, "I didn't think that you would still be in here."
"O-oh, no, i-it's fine," I manage to choke out, "I just noticed that I have a rather large scar and was wondering how I got it, that's all." Are all of my conversations with other people going to be as awkward as the ones I've been having today?
The camouflage feeling is started to wear off so I hurry in to the tiled room. Dropping the rest of my clothes, I turn the knob below the shower head and freezing water spews out. The sudden cold serves as a shock to my system and I instantly become visible. A cut-off gasp comes out unintentionally and my hand shoots out to turn the knob again as I jump out of the spray of water.
"Did you need help figuring out how to control the temperature?" comes Miss Martian's hesitant voice.
"N-n-no!" I chatter, arms wrapped around my shivering body. My skin is pale with a slight baby blue tinge to my toes and finger tips. Whether it's from my color changing ability or if I'm just that frozen, it's apparent that I don't cope too well with the cold.
A small cloud of steam is starting to form, so I cautiously unclench an arm from its death grip around my shoulders and stick my fingers in the water. The temperature is at a deliciously hot degree and I slip in to the stream of water, my shivers slowly subsiding. Skin returned to its rightful color, I tilt my head back and close my eyes to let the water droplets pitter patter on my face. Turning around, the water runs through my hair, the amassed moisture making it heavier. Eyes still closed and luxurious heat and steam cocooning me, a deep, almost inaudible, rumbling comes from my chest, rising up to sit in my throat.
"Here's some shampoo if you want to wash your hair," Miss Martian's voice comes from the other room. The odd purring stops and I open my eyes to see a bottle of what I assume is the product she was talking about floating a little ways from me.
"Miss Martian, how did you do that?" I ask, snatching the bottle out of the air.
"Oh, well, I'm telekinetic," Miss Martian answers.
"That's amazing!" I say, popping open the top of the shampoo bottle with a loud snap.
Miss Martian replies with a flattered thank you as I turn the bottle upside-down and squeeze out a small glob of the shampoo. Snapping the top closed, I set the shampoo on the ground and start working the blob of cream colored product through my hair.
"You know, you can ask me a question if you want." I say quietly, running my fingers through my hair one more time, "I don't mind."
"Oh, that's not it! I was just thinking about… stuff," Miss Martian explains.
"Miss Martian." I interrupt, "You're not very good at lying."
There's a pause as she decides whether or not to keep up the charade that she was only thinking, not waiting to pepper me with questions. "How did you know?" comes her tentative reply.
"I guess…" I bite my lip, trying to think of a proper response, "I guess I could just feel it, you know? I could just kind of sense your curiosity." I pause, "Plus your excuse was kind of see through."
"So you're a kind of empath? Is that why you reacted so strangely when I touched you earlier?"
"What exactly does it mean to be an empath?"
"Being an empath means that you can sense what other people around you are feeling, what their emotions are." Miss Martian stops for a second before continuing, "But it looks like you can project your emotions on others, too, which is sort of unusual."
"Why is it unusual?" I ask, the statement piquing my interest.
"Well… It's just that I can't think of anyone else I know that can project their emotions like you do. It's not like some other people who just have strong emotions, but it's like you send out your emotions so forcefully that other people start to feel the same way as you do."
I stop rinsing my hair for a moment, contemplating the fact that Miss Martian doesn't know anyone else that can do what I find so uncontrollably easy. "I suppose I'm just different then." I say, turning off the shower head, "I am from another planet. Maybe my people are like me."
"They probably are. Oh, here's a towel."
Turning around, I grab the green, fluffy towel from the air where it was hanging. With a quick thank you, I dry myself off. I wring my hair out then towel it off before patting down the rest of me.
"So," Miss Martian starts, "you don't have a name?"
"No." I reply, slipping on my undergarments, "I don't remember my name yet, and I don't know when I'll get all of my memories back." The unspoken if hangs in the air. If I get my memory back.
"Superboy doesn't have an Earth name either. Maybe we can help you find a name like we're trying to with Superboy."
"Why doesn't Superboy have a name?" I wrap the towel around me and tuck it securely.
"Well… Superboy isn't normal."
"How?" I prod.
"Superboy's a clone."
"He was grown from another person's DNA?" I step out of the shower room and back in to the locker room.
"Superman's DNA to be exact." Miss Martian looks at me, a delighted look covering up the sad one she must have had while talking about Superboy, "But anyway, I have the perfect outfit for you! Just let me get it put together quick!"
I watch as Miss Martian holds up a plain looking t-shirt, looking back and forth between me and the white fabric. Then the t-shirt begins to change. My mouth drops open as I watch it change color to a dark lavender, a dark purple floral design springing up on the bottom hem. The sleeves lengthen and flair out, tinting the same dark purple as the flowers on the edges. Miss Martian looks between the shirt and me once more before she looks satisfied and sets the shirt down on the bench.
"How did you do that?"
"The clothes are organic, so they respond to my mental commands." Miss Martian replies, picking up a plain black skirt. The skirt lengthens just a bit and the black turns in to a dark grey. Miss Martian picks up the shirt and hands both items of clothing to me. "Go ahead and change. I'll just turn around so you have some privacy."
With that, Miss Martian turns around to let me change. I look between her, the clothes in my hand, and my green towel. Then I shrug and quickly change.
Aaaaand, that's a wrap for this chapter! Can anyone guess where that scar came from? It shouldn't be too hard to find where it's sort of mentioned before. Anyway, stay tuned!
