I'll Protect You (Original Version)

Once upon a time: Archer Sparrow's mysterious and danger-filled life version 2.0

Is it weird that the moment my ears opened up to the world around me, I knew for a fact that I was in a hospital? I've read, watched, heard, and seen people who wake up, and take a moment (sometimes they're ridiculously long moments) to understand that they are in a medical care facility.

I could smell the freshness of the air so that no germs could attack you while they're treating you. A heart rate monitor was beeping steadily besides me. Even with my eyes closed, I could tell that the lighting in this room was painfully bright and blinding.

The television wasn't playing, so that meant my father and Zen weren't in the room. No one was holding my hand, so let's blotch out Vincent and Cross. And Alec had this very distinct cologne, but the scent was nowhere in the room, so that ruled him out as well.

Someone was turning a magazine. At first, I thought Minnie was seated by my bedside, frenzily flipping through the magazine catalogues with skeptical eyes, instantly judging each celebrity outfit with a well-thought out essay inside her head before she skimmed over another outfit.

However, the pages being turned were turned with grace (if you could gracefully flip a page in a magazine, that is--I only know one person who could make reading look so majestic). That thought sent a twinge of nostalgia through my heart. No, let's not think about those memories.

Ever so slowly, I opened my eyes. Like I thought, a brilliant light the shades of a pure white sun flashed into my eyes and I hissed, rolling over on my side and curling into a ball. Unfortunately, like the occasional half-wit I was, I rolled over onto the side of which bore a probably recently stitched up cut.

A cry of pain escaped my lips and I rolled over on my back, a hand pressed gingerly to the side of my head while my eyes were squinted shut, a frown on my face. Gods, why were hospitals so annoying?

"I told them they should just use sunlight, but they didn't listen," a voice from the bedside drawled. It was eerily and painfully familiar, just like the lullabye I play on the piano, despite not knowing when, where, or how I know it. A memory lost and forgotten but still there.

Okay, now I just sound like my mother when she was being melodramatic.

Sluggishly, my eyes widened slowly, like a flower blooming. As soon as I grew accustomed to the whiteness of the room, I turned my head to the side slowly. I couldn't register what I saw because it should've been impossible.

There was a college-student looking boy sitting in the seat next to me, elbows on his knees with his hands clasped together in front of his mouth while his startling dark eyes surveying me with a hidden amusement. His dark brown hair, the same exact shade as mine, was still wet and spiked up, probably because he ran his fingers through them.

The family ring was set on his right hand middle finger, with the symbol of a dragon carved into the side with black ink. Members of the royal family had a precious trinket of the family insignia upon it. Mine was a necklace, a circle pendant with the engraving of a black dragon, matching his.

He wasn't as pale as I remembered. Some slight color had come to his cheeks, giving him a soft glow. He had grown into his muscles, grown out of the baby fat on his cheeks. Now he was a strong cheekbone-and-jawbone boy. He wasn't wearing a long t-shirt with black shorts, but a dress shirt with a red tie. Two black wristbands wrapped around his wrist. But he still had that sarcastic smile.

"Good morning, little sister," he said softly.

This was a dream. The shock and intensity of regaining six years of memories along with being smashed on the head with a glass beaker (I think Professor Thorne hates me more than he ever has at this moment) must've done something to my brain.