Brother from another mother

Heat Wave. [Part-4]

The hand that held his was warm and gentle, a thumb slowly stroking the back of his hand. And it didn't pull away. He was sure time passed but the hand and presence remained at his side.

Reassured, Mike didn't mind falling back into unconsciousness. He knew that the hand would continue to hold his and the owner would be at his side when he woke up.

OoOoO

He wasn't sure when it happened or for how long it had lasted, but the dark finally started to recede.

Mike was able to cling to consciousness for greater amounts of time between lapses of sleep caused by the exhaustion from being awake.

He found he could finally open sore, sensitive eyes. His vision was marred and blurry but he could make out hazy shapes, subdued color, and piercing light. Shadowy figures passed before him, teasing him with their presence but never quite granting him a clear image of who they were. There was one shadow that hovered at his side, never moving. But no matter how hard Mike squinted at it, the shadows never parted to reveal the person.

His hearing had improved as well, but perhaps a little too well. Before, the sounds he could hear were distant and muted. Now they were too close and far too loud. He could distinctly hear hollowed footsteps that echoed painfully in his head. Every shift of the blanket; the way the rough cloth scraped against his clothes; every minute sound resounded clearly in a cacophonous roar in his head. It made him cringe.

That was his silver lining: that fact that he could move his body again. Granted, it was a slight movement, more reflexive than voluntary, but it was a start. He could feel his feet again.

And, as the dark released its immobilizing grip, Mike found that his memory was recovering. He remembered what had happened, where he was, why he was suffering, and who had saved him.

And he found that he could make new memories again rather than lose his thoughts to the dark. There were a few moments of consciousness that he retained in his mind.

The first of which was when cold jolted him aware. He had looked around wildly to find himself submerged in an ice-tub filled with cold water that came as a relief to his fevered body. It felt so good to have the clinging heat chased away by soothing cold. He remembered leaning back into the pillow that kept his head above the water. He could hear movement around him but kept his eyes tightly closed to block out the light raining down from above.

He remembered being eased back into bed with ice packs around him as a fan buzzed somewhere near his head. The room was already air-conditioned but, under the blankets, it was still too warm for his liking. The fan felt good against his face.

He remembered waking to find a shadow looming over him while brusque prodding fingers checked his pulse and temperature.

He remembered the bite of a needle as a new IV was put in.

He remembered gentler fingers performing the same acts as the previous shadow he figured to be the doctor had: carefully checking his pulse and placing a comforting hand over his forehead to test his temperature.

He remembered fingers brushing through his hair; a cloth being dabbed at his brow; a constant weight on his hand.

More than once he heard his name being spoken aloud: sometimes in a woman's velvety voice; often in a man's lower one. He could hear other words and quiet murmurings being spoken but they were too faint for him to catch, even with his newly acquired Spidey Senses.

He even vaguely remembered a melodious hum that mercifully drowned out the sharper sounds that haunted him. The pleasant song lulled him into an easy sleep.