Chapter 17

When Tom woke again, the room was quiet. The lights had dimmed further, casting faint, uneven shadows across the walls. The beeping of the monitors was a low, distant hum, and for a moment, he felt as though he were underwater—adrift and unsure of how much time had passed.

He blinked slowly, his body aching as he shifted just enough to take in his surroundings. The infirmary was empty. Superman and Wonder Woman were gone, and the absence of their presence left him feeling oddly untethered.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, he felt it—a familiar warmth stirring in his mind. It was subtle at first, like the faintest flicker of a candle, but it grew steadily, wrapping around his thoughts like a soft embrace.

"You're awake," a voice said, warm and familiar, laced with gentle humor.

Tom exhaled, relief washing over him like a wave. "Kaelith," he said softly, his voice rough but steadier than before.

"Did you think I had left you, Tom?" she teased lightly, though her tone carried a weight of guilt beneath its surface. "I would never."

A faint, tired smile tugged at Tom's lips as he turned his head slightly, though there was no one to see it. "I don't know," he murmured. "Maybe I thought you'd finally had enough of me."

"You are many things, but intolerable is not one of them," she said, her voice gentler now. "You are my friend, Tom. If I could not endure your company, I would hardly deserve that title."

Tom let out a weak chuckle, though it was more air than sound. "Then why didn't you say anything earlier?" he asked. "I thought… maybe you were gone."

Kaelith paused, her presence in his mind warm but thoughtful. When she spoke again, her voice was quieter, almost tentative. "You were speaking with the Amazon and the Kryptonian," she said. "It was not my place to interfere. I thought… I thought you should have that time with them."

Tom blinked, the weight of her words settling over him. "You didn't talk to me because you were giving me space?" he asked, Surprised.

Her voice softened, touched with wry amusement. "Since I saw how much it meant to you," she said. "You needed their words, their presence. I did not want to intrude."

Tom's chest tightened at her honesty, and he shook his head weakly. "You don't have to do that, Kaelith. You don't have to step back for them. You've been here for me more than anyone else. You've… you've earned your place."

For a moment, there was silence, and Tom felt a flicker of something he couldn't quite name—gratitude, perhaps, or relief.

"I may have earned my place," Kaelith said softly, her voice tinged with emotion, "but that does not mean I should always claim it. You deserve the chance to rebuild with them, to find your footing again. My presence does not diminish theirs, nor does theirs diminish mine. I only wish for you to find what you need, no matter where it comes from."

Tom closed his eyes, overwhelmed by her words and the depth of her understanding. "You're too good to me," he whispered.

Her tone lightened, a faint trace of humor threading through it. "That, perhaps, is true," she said. "But do not let it go to your head. You are insufferable enough as it is."

Tom let out another weak chuckle, the sound freer this time. "Thanks," he said quietly. "For everything. For waiting. For being here."

"Always," she replied, her voice steady and sincere. "I am here, Tom. I will always be here."

And for the first time that day, he believed it completely.

For a moment, the room was silent save for the hum of the monitors. Tom let the warmth of her presence settle over him, comforting and grounding. But then Kaelith's voice returned, quieter now, her tone laced with regret.

"Tom," she began hesitantly, "I… I wish I could have done more."

He blinked, confusion cutting through his exhaustion. "What do you mean?"

"During your time with the Light," she continued, her voice softer now, like a close friend baring their soul. "I tried, Tom. I tried so hard to shield you. To protect you from their cruelty. But… I couldn't stop all of it. I couldn't stop the pain or the fear. I hate that I couldn't do more."

Tom frowned, his chest tightening as he heard the guilt in her voice. "Kaelith, stop," he said, his tone firm despite his weariness. "You didn't just 'do what you could.' You did everything. I wouldn't have survived without you. I wouldn't have made it through those interrogations, the torture, the… the constant fear."

His voice broke slightly as he swallowed hard, his throat tightening. "You were there when no one else was. You kept me sane, kept me grounded. Don't you dare apologize for that."

There was a pause, her presence flickering in his mind like a hesitant flame. Then, she sighed softly, her voice tinged with a bittersweet warmth. "You're stubborn," she said, almost fondly. "I'm pouring my heart out, and here you are, telling me off for it."

Tom let out a faint chuckle, though it was weak and short-lived. "You needed to hear it," he said. "You don't get to feel guilty for something that wasn't your fault. Not after everything you did for me."

Her silence stretched for a moment before she spoke again, quieter now but no less resolute. "Maybe," she admitted, "but it doesn't change the fact that you're… well, kind of a mess right now."

Tom huffed a weak laugh, shaking his head slightly. "Gee, thanks."

Kaelith's tone lightened, teasing but with an edge of sincerity. "Hey, someone has to keep you honest. And let's face it—you're not exactly at your best."

Tom sighed, a faint smile tugging at his lips despite himself. "Yeah, well, I've been through some stuff."

"Understatement of the year," she replied, her warmth returning in full force. Then, her tone shifted, becoming more serious but still carrying that familiar care. "But here's the thing: being a mess right now? It's okay. It's expected. What matters is what comes next."

Tom blinked, her words catching him off guard. "What do you mean?"

"You're hurt, Tom," Kaelith said, her voice steady. "Physically, mentally—everything. You're broken down. But that also means there's a chance to rebuild. To start fresh. Your body's weak, sure, but it's also a blank slate right now. We can build you back up—stronger, better than before."

Tom's brow furrowed. "Rebuild?" he echoed. "What are you talking about?"

Kaelith's presence steadied in his mind, her voice soft but filled with determination. "Your injuries, as horrible as they are, give us a unique opportunity," she explained. "You're at a point where your body is being forced to recover from the ground up. And with my magic, I can help guide that process—reshape it, strengthen it. By the time you're done healing, you'll be stronger than you were before."

Tom blinked, her words swirling in his thoughts. "Stronger?" he asked cautiously. "Like… physically? Or…?"

"Physically, and magically," Kaelith clarified. "Your body is already trying to heal itself, but with my help, I can push that process further. I can ensure that the foundation of who you are—your strength, your resilience—becomes something greater. And since you won't be moving much for a while, now is the perfect time to start."

Tom's throat tightened as he considered her words. "You're saying you can… fix me?" he asked, his voice tinged with both hope and doubt.

Kaelith's presence grew warmer, steady and reassuring, but her voice carried a note of gentle honesty. "Not entirely," she said softly. "You will still have scars from this, Tom—reminders of what you've been through. I'm sorry, but those will remain. However, they should be the only thing that does."

Tom blinked, her words settling over him like a bittersweet balm. "The only thing?" he echoed.

"Yes," Kaelith said simply, her tone steady but warm. "You'll make a full physical recovery. But any lingering mental trauma? That's something you'll have to work through. I'll be here to help, and I'm sure the League will offer you resources too."

Tom let out a slow breath, staring up at the ceiling as he considered her words. After a moment, a faint smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "What else am I gonna do?" he said quietly. "Let's do it."

Kaelith's voice carried a soft smile. "One step at a time. We'll get there together."

Tom let out a weak chuckle, the smirk lingering. "Besides chicks dig scars, right?" he said, his tone laced with dry humor.

Kaelith's warmth flickered with amusement. "Is that what you're holding onto, Tom?" she teased lightly. "I don't recall your charm being particularly dependent on scars."

"Hey, let me have this," Tom shot back, his grin widening slightly. "I've got to find some silver lining in all this."

Tom's grin softened into a quiet smile as her words settled over him. For the first time, the weight of his ordeal didn't feel quite so heavy.

As Tom's eyes drifted shut, it seemed as though sleep had taken him once more. But instead of the weight of exhaustion pulling him deeper, he found himself standing in a familiar place—a boundless expanse of vibrant green plains stretching endlessly beneath a sky painted in soft, shifting hues of gold and blue. The breeze carried the faint scent of wildflowers, and the horizon seemed alive, pulsating gently as though breathing with him.

Kaelith's presence materialized nearby, walking toward him with her familiar grace. She appeared more solid here than she ever had in the waking world—her form a blend of radiant energy and humanoid clarity. Her eyes sparkled with warmth, though her expression carried the weight of purpose.

"Welcome back, Tom," she said, her voice steady and familiar, like an old friend greeting him after a long journey. "Your body rests, but your mind? It's time to put it to work."

Tom glanced down at his hands, flexing his fingers as he noticed the absence of the bandages and pain that had defined his waking hours. He stretched cautiously, surprised by how light and free he felt. Looking up at her with a crooked grin, he said, "You're really not even giving me a nap, huh?"

Kaelith's lips curled into a soft smile, a spark of amusement dancing in her eyes. "You can nap when you're old and gray, Tom," she teased. "Right now, we've got more important things to do. Besides, don't tell me you'd rather sleep than spend time with me?"

Tom chuckled, shaking his head as he took in the expansive plains around them. "Fair point. You've got me there."

And so, their training began.

For what felt like hours, Kaelith guided him through intricate lessons across the vast plains. They worked on honing his focus, channeling his emotions into controlled energy, and mastering the flow of magic within him. The environment shifted and adapted to their needs—stones rising from the earth to serve as obstacles, shimmering pools reflecting his efforts back at him, and faint trails of light tracing his movements as he learned to manipulate his newfound power.

When he stumbled, frustration gnawing at him, Kaelith was always there, steady and patient. Her voice was calm, but it carried the unwavering support of someone who believed in him completely.

The training ended as abruptly. One moment, Tom was deep in concentration, Kaelith's voice guiding him through a complex sequence. The next, he was back in his body, lying on the infirmary bed. The hum of monitors and the faint, sterile scent of the room greeted him as his eyes fluttered open.

He wasn't alone.

Standing at the foot of his bed was Oliver Queen, his usually confident demeanor overshadowed by something raw and vulnerable. He was dressed casually, but the weariness in his eyes and the tension in his posture betrayed the emotional storm brewing beneath the surface.

"Tom," Oliver said softly, his voice carrying the weight of something unspoken.

Tom blinked, still groggy from the transition. "Mr. Queen?" he rasped, his voice hoarse. "What's… what's going on?"

Oliver startled slightly, running a hand through his hair and taking a half-step back. "Sorry," he said, his voice a bit rushed. "I didn't mean to wake you. I came by to thank you, but when I saw you were sleeping, I was going to leave. Then you woke up, and—well, here I am."

Tom frowned slightly, his thoughts still catching up. "Thank me? For what?"

Oliver hesitated, his hands clenching into fists before relaxing again. He exhaled sharply, his voice softening. "For Roy. For finding him."

The weight of his words hit Tom like a punch to the chest. He remembered the envelope he had handed to Bruce, his notes with everything he could remember for certain from the "Young Justice" timeline. "The letter," Tom murmured, realization dawning. "I… I totally forgot I wrote that."

"That doesn't matter," Oliver said firmly. "You did what no one else could. Roy's back because of you." His voice wavered slightly as he stepped closer.

Tom stared at him, his words caught in his throat as he saw tears welling in Oliver's eyes. The unshakable archer—the Green Arrow—looked on the verge of breaking, and the sight was as humbling as it was unexpected.

"I failed him," Oliver continued, his voice dropping to a whisper. "I failed him for so long. Seven years, Tom. Seven years he was out there, suffering, while we were running around thinking we were doing our jobs, protecting the world. For most of that I didn't even realize he wasn't even there. And you—you gave me a second chance to fix it."

Tom swallowed hard, his throat tight. "I didn't even know," he admitted quietly. "I didn't know for certain it would work out."

Oliver shook his head, his expression clouded with a mixture of guilt and gratitude. "It doesn't matter. You did it. You gave him back his life, even if it's not the one he left behind. But…" He hesitated, running a hand through his hair. "He's not okay. He hates me. He hates the League. And honestly? He has every right to."

Tom frowned, his voice uncertain. "Why?"

"Because he lost seven years of his life," Oliver said, his voice heavy. "Seven years stolen. We didn't even realize he was gone, let alone what was happening to him. I don't blame him for being angry. I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to him."

The room fell into a weighted silence before Oliver continued, his voice soft but steady. "But even with all that anger, Roy said something that caught me off guard. He said he wants to meet you—the guy who 'pulled the League's head out of its ass,' his words, not mine—and thank you."

Tom's eyes widened. "He… he wants to meet me?"

Oliver gave a faint, bittersweet smile. "Yeah. He knows what you went through to get that information out. I had to tell him that you got taken when he first asked to see you."

Oliver's smile faded, and he ran a hand through his hair, his gaze dropping to the floor. "That didn't help," he admitted, his voice heavy with guilt. "When I told him what happened to you—how the Light captured you because you were trying to help us—it made him hate us even more."

Tom swallowed again, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. "If it helps him out, I would love to talk to him," he said quietly.

A thought bubbled up, breaking through the haze. "Also, can I ask something?" he said hesitantly. "Why aren't you wearing your mask? Doesn't that—like—break protocol or something?"

Oliver arched an eyebrow, his lips twitching faintly into a smirk. "I thought you already knew all of ours," he said casually. "Unless I'm wrong?"

Tom gave a sheepish shrug. "I mean… yeah, I already knew. Feels kind of impolite to just say it out loud, you know?"

Oliver chuckled softly, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Well, there you go. No mask necessary. After what you've been through, I think you've earned the right to see us as more than just masks."

Tom managed a small, tired smile, the faintest spark of warmth flickering in his chest. "Thanks, Mr. Queen," he murmured. "That means a lot."

Oliver nodded, his trademark determination returning as he straightened. "You've earned it, kid. And if you ever need anything—anything at all—you just call. You've got a friend in me, no matter what."

With that, Oliver placed a reassuring hand on the foot of the bed for a moment, as if grounding himself, before turning to leave. At the doorway, he glanced back one last time, his voice steady but filled with sincerity. "Thank you."

Tom watched as Oliver disappeared into the hallway, the sound of his boots fading into the distance. He let out a slow breath, his body sinking back into the bed.

Kaelith's presence stirred in his mind, her voice soft but tinged with humor. "So even the Emerald Archer acknowledges you. Should I be jealous?"

Tom chuckled weakly.

Hello! Author here, just want to let you all know that Through The Rift will now update weekly from now on. On mondays. Thank you all for reading and I hope you've enjoyed the story so far.