I sat at the side of the bed as Ben paced back and forth at the foot of it. James was staring down at his chest, seemingly lifeless. His eyes stared through everything, and he barely blinked. His expression was grim, which interfered with my lips forming anything close to a smile.

A doctor marched into the room, he had dark grey hair and was tall. He glanced at a clipboard for a second and then addressed Benjamin.

“James seems to be having a dissociative episode, probably due to his PTSD,” He explained, Ben seemed to expect that.

“And the bruises?” Ben asked.

James had a series of bruises and scars on his body, ones that I wasn’t able to see but rather hear about. Apparently they were extensive, and many.

“He has a few cuts and we think a few broken ribs,” The doctor confirmed. “Has he been in any accidents recently? Maybe a fight?”

“He saved a man from a burning tanker the other day, but I didn’t think that he got hurt,” I mentioned. Ben nodded, I guess he had heard of that incident.

“We’re gonna have to x-ray to make sure, might take a few hours but as long as he comes out of this episode, we should be able to discharge you by the end of the night,”

Ben nodded, and his nerves seemed to calm quickly. 

“Thank you, doctor,”

He nodded and left as Ben looked at James on the bed.

“I don’t mean to be that parent, but you guys were all alone in the apartment,” He raised a brow at me. 

“It wasn’t like that,” I rubbed my eyes as my cheeks turned pink. “He was gonna make us something and we were just going to hang out,”

He nodded for the fifth time in ten minutes.

“He is a tough kid,” Ben said. I agreed and looked at James dreamily. My eyes fogged and I saw an image of Raymond’s face. I shook my head and the image disappeared. I looked again and saw James fighting three men in an alley, and winning. He finished the fight with a punch to one of their faces and the memory faded. I scrunched my brow as Ben left the room to the vending machine. I peered at the door and then back at James. I thought hard, racking my brain to see another memory. 

Another image blurred my vision and showed James being trained by an old man, seemingly homeless. His face was wrinkled where you could see it, the rest covered by a grey beard. They moved their arms quickly in chopping motions at burlap punching bags. James attacked with ferocity and anger. They turned to each other and bowed and the image disappeared. Another image showed James fighting with a staff. The same old man sparred with young James, who had mastered the weapon perfectly. Every swing was graceful and thought out. James swung the stick at the man who caught it with his own. The young boy then recoiled, smacked the man’s stick with the bottom of his, then hit it with the top sending the old man’s weapon flying. James tripped the man and held the stick against his neck threateningly before helping the man to his feet. 

I once again saw James’ face, lifeless and staring off. I thought harder and tried to look deeper into his memories.

“Let’s try out these powers,” I muttered to myself. 

I looked into James’ head and was greeted with immediate emotional pain. My heart tugged aggressively as it crinkled in my chest. My brain was filled with anger, sadness, longing for the ones I had lost, the ones he had lost. I could feel all of this rush over me like a massive wave. I tried to delve deeper and find memories instead of emotions, but I couldn’t help but feel trapped in the negative thoughts.

Is this how James always feels? I thought to myself. I ignored the tear running down my face and concentrated.

The emotions left as fast as they arrived and I was back looking at memories. I saw a man in black fighting three assailants in a hotel lobby, Raymond and James fighting two large men, and finally, the Darkest dropping from a vent and into a jewelry store. The image changed to the same man gripping a stop sign and throwing it at Polarity. I didn’t want to believe the scenes I was witnessing, but I continued.

Another scene showed James being tortured by a middle aged man. He scraped a knife across the young man’s chest and then his back while his hands were bound. I quickly pushed the memory away and was met with James looking in the mirror of a dilapidated bathroom, then putting on a wool mask. The image flashed a few times then disappeared as my focus broke.

“The Darkest,” I whispered, looking at the immobile hero. “It’s you,”

James' eyes moved to mine as I said this. He was awake.