Blanket Disclaimer: Poison Tonic LX does not own the Teen Titans or any characters therein. Don't sue her, please, because if you do I won't have a home anymore…-Ralph, the muse
"Tandi." He woke with a gasp and sat up, the faces and memories still burning in his mind.
He let out a deep sigh and buried his face in his hands for a moment before running them through his hair and realizing with a start that he wasn't in the garage anymore.
In fact, he wasn't even in his room—he looked around and decided he must be in a hospital of some sort, with all the machines surrounding him. And since the machinery looked so advanced, he decided he must be in the Tower infirmary. He was glad—he hated hospitals.
He looked around again and saw the other Titans and the Original sprawled out about the room, all of them sleeping, and wondered vaguely how long he'd been in here.
The Comic Relief and the Dolt were leaning against each other, both of them drooling. Cyborg was in a seemingly uncomfortable position in one of the chairs, a snot bubble expanding and contracting as he snored. The Kid was as stiff as always, even asleep, and the Sorceress was as graceful as always, curled up in one of the chairs with a book folded open in her lap but slipping as she breathed. The Original was sitting a few chairs away from the rest, sleeping like a regular human being instead of in the strange ways the Titans were. He thought he saw a communicator clutched tightly in the Original's hand.
The Sorceress was, predictably, the first to rouse and see him awake.
She stood, placing her book carefully in the seat, and went to his side. "You've been in here for a day." She said, as if she knew he'd been wondering (she may have, with her powers).
"What happened?" He asked quietly.
"We found you in the garage." She replied, giving him an inquisitive look.
He nodded.
"You were scratched up pretty badly, and your eyes were puffy and red." Her voice was both accusing and questioning at the same time.
He just shrugged.
True to her nature, she didn't push. "Cyborg carried you here and Robin propped your bike up—it's just scratched up some, if you were wondering. I healed you, mostly. You'll just be sore for a few days." She bit her lip. "I…we were worried, especially after you ran off like that."
"Sorry for worrying you." He mumbled, looking away from her.
"You were muttering." She continued. "And you cried a few times."
He shrugged again.
She didn't say anything for a moment. "Who's Tandi?"
He jerked at the name, but shook his head. "No one."
She frowned, but again didn't push, instead going to his side and checking the remnants of his injuries through the bandages. "You know…it helps to talk about stuff." She said, not looking up at his face. "I'm probably the last person who should be saying that…but it does. The Titans…all of us…are here for you, Rush, if you need to talk. Cyborg…and me…especially."
He blinked at her confusedly, and opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off.
"Friend Rush! You have awakened!"
The Dolt's squeal woke up of the occupants of the room, and they crowded around him.
"Dude, are you okay?" The Comic Relief said.
"I'm fine." He waved them off.
"You looked like you cried yourself unconscious." Cyborg said.
"I'm fine." He repeated, his voice a bit icier.
They all stopped, noticing his slight growl, and no one spoke for a moment.
The Original thrust his hand forward suddenly, showing him a communicator. "I joined. I shouldn't have done it—it'll only bring trouble—but I did. You…you were right. Running won't help, and I…I do need help…to keep those clones from taking me back and making more."
He nodded. "Whatever." He stepped off of the bed, carefully testing his legs before he decided it was safe, but a bit painful, to walk. "Where's my shirt?"
"Here it is, Friend Rush!" The Dolt handed it to him, smiling brightly.
"Thanks." He pulled it on, fingering a hole in the side.
"You need a new one." The Kid remarked. "Do you have any more in your room?"
"No. I'll have to go get more material." He replied.
"More material…?" Cyborg trailed off.
"To make more costumes." He rolled his eyes, exasperated. Wasn't Cyborg supposed to be one of the smart ones around here?
"Dude, you make your own costumes?" The Comic Relief snickered.
"Problem?" His tone was icy again.
"No, no, you just don't strike me as the sewing type."
"Whatever." He said again with a roll of his eyes, beginning to feel really agitated. "I'll be in the training room if anyone needs me."
"Hey, why don't you and Maxwell spar, and we can see how far along he is." The Kid suggested.
He shook his head. "I just feel like beating the crap out of something right now."
"You aren't still mad about the thing at the pizza place, are you?" The Original grimaced. "I'm really sorry about that, I just…"
He cut him off with a glare that made even the Sorceress cringe. "Listen closely, Max, because I'm not repeating myself: I don't like you. At all. You piss me off. You bring up way too many memories I'd rather have forgotten about. I'm not going to be your 'best buddy' by any means. I'll train with you, I'll fight alongside you, and I'll even save your ass when it's necessary, but don't take it personally because I could care less." He turned and left the room.
"I'm guessing that's a yes…" He heard the Comic Relief say as the doors slid closed behind him.
(THE RUSH)