Legends 4: Foreshadowing? What Foreshadowing?

One of the nurses gave Leonard another dose of Haldol shortly after he arrived in the infirmary. It was, to John's senses, just as useless as the first dose.

John shrugged. At least there was no risk of an overdose that he could sense. And now that the thief had delivered his warning, he was no longer controlled by his panic; his sickness should put him out before anyone else realized that the medicine was completely ineffective.

"You were there," Leonard murmured. "Before everything went to hell."

"Ain't that the truth?" John replied. He hesitated. If the thief was lucid enough to dwell on the previous night, it would probably be a good idea to explain matters to him before another panic attack set in. But was he lucid enough to understand?

"Course, 'sall goon to hell anyway," Leonard added, his voice beginning to slur. "E'en before she left...." His words trailed off into an incoherent mumble, and he dropped into a fitful sleep.

Oh. Not last night.

Under the circumstances, there was only one "she" John could think of that the thief meant, and Amber had originally disappeared....

At Langford, fifteen years ago. That's why the thief seemed familiar; a mage of John's skill could never forget the powerful magic he and Amber had thrown around back then.

Amber hadn't known why Leonard was so terrified of remaining at the Institute; like as not she hadn't known back then that he was a Sensitive. And the Institute had, predictably, made even less progress with his recovery. She'd been forced to enlist outside help to understand what was wrong with the thief… but the Oculus they had cast for deeper sight had gone wrong, and the shape-shifter had inexplicably vanished before they could learn anything of use.

By the time John had recovered from the botched spell and returned to finish the job, Leonard was already gone. He'd never learned where the thief had been sent, but the entire mess had stunk of what he later identified as Damien Darkh's magic.

Small wonder, then, that Leonard feared being transferred under the present circumstances, even in the midst of his concern for his sister.

All the more reason to deal with things now, before anyone had any brilliant ideas about alternative forms of therapy.

John laid a hand on the thief's forehead, careful not to disturb the oxygen mask, and murmured a few incantations he'd borrowed from one of Amber's journals: a hastily revised version of the Oculus, and a cold spell she'd named "Majummed" after a vision from the Oculus.

Content that Leonard's own sickness rendered a sleeping spell unnecessary, and that the borrowed incantations would alert John or Amber if the thief's condition changed, the mage found an out-of-the-way corner and settled in for a nap. Leonard's plight wouldn't truly be over until he'd caught up to the changes Barry had wrought, and John would need every bit of strength he could gather to look after him.

It had been a long day, and it was bound to be a longer night.

—FLASH SIDEWAYS: LEGENDS—


"So how's our patient doing?" the doctor asked.

Leonard peered at the woman, but his mind was a jumble. He couldn't make out her name tag, nor concentrate long enough to decide if he even recognized her.

"C—cold," he stammered once he convinced his voice to work. He usually liked the cold, but even in the midst of his worst illnesses he couldn't remember feeling a bone-deep chill like this one. "V—very cold," he added.

The doctor shivered when she approached his bed. "No wonder," she said, her breath misting as she spoke. She glanced over her shoulder at the figure nodding off nearby. "Hey, uh... sorry, I want to say John?"

The figure jerked upright to stare at her for a moment. "Yeah, that's right," he replied after a moment.

"Okay. John. Think you can find out what's wrong with the AC? Leonard's fever's gone down, but I don't need him freezing to death." She smiled down at Leonard. "Although you like the cold, don't you?"

Leonard tried to shake his head. "Not... like th—this," he replied. But far sooner than he would’ve thought possible, the temperature had risen to a tolerable level.

"Better?" John asked.

Leonard jerked his head in an attempt at a nod, but it was only the physical chill that had vanished. He couldn't have warmed up that quickly. Was he losing time now? What the hell was going on?

His mind was still so foggy....

"Still tired?" the doctor asked.

Leonard opened his eyes, barely aware that they'd even slipped shut again. The noise that came out of his mouth could almost pass as a "yes."

"Hmm... the Haldol wouldn't still be affecting him, would it?" John asked in a low voice.

No. Leonard had never understood why some drugs didn't work on him, but he knew it wasn't to blame for any of his lassitude.

But that meant something else must be behind his symptoms; it had never been this bad before!

"Two doses last night?" the doctor replied just as quietly. "I don't think so, no. Most of it should be out of his system by now. But I'm worried about that panic attack of his...."

"Must've had one hell of a nightmare," John said.

No. That wasn't quite true. He had been this sick once. Fifteen years ago. Before the treatments that had made his childhood look like a pleasant daydream.

"You honestly think that was just a nightmare?"

"Brought on by the fever. Maybe food poisoning. What else could it be?"

"I don't know," the doctor admitted. "But no matter how sick he is, I think someone as smart as him would never risk letting a nightmare give that crowd a weapon against him... not unless something else was wrong with him. Something we're not equipped to handle."

Leonard's heart thumped painfully as he finally caught up with what the doctor was saying. She couldn't mean…

No!

"That's a mite drastic, you think?" John replied. "With that lot out for his head, it ain't like a nightmare's going to make things worse. Far more likely some meta on the outside is screwing around with him." He shrugged. "One of his enemies, probably. Or maybe Bivolo, if the rogue can control more than anger."

Leonard might have laughed at that if he'd had the strength, though there was little to laugh about. Roy had suggested exactly that, reasoning that, with Shawna still at her classes, it might be easiest to bust him out during a medical transfer. It was a decent plan, something Leonard might have come up with under other circumstances, but Lisa and Mick had vetoed the suggestion for the very reason that now filled Leonard with dread.

"I suppose I should make sure the warden's looking into it," the doctor admitted. "God only knows how much longer he'd ignore it otherwise. And who knows? With all the metahumans turning up, that dream might actually mean something."

"Right," John agreed. "But for now let's see how the other inmates react to his recovery. Erm… he is recovering?"

"A little too quickly for my liking," the doctor said, "strange as that may sound." She glanced around at the cramped room. "I'd really like to keep him here a while for observation, but it's only a matter of time before another patient will need that bed. And isolating him wouldn't do much good at this point if whatever this is turned out to be contagious. Leonard, do you feel up to returning to your cell?"

Leonard groaned. "I think so," he mumbled. He tried to sit up, lifted his head about two inches, then dropped back to the bed. He was so tired….

No. He needed to return to his cell. Too many of the other inmates had witnessed his outburst last night, and the ones who hadn't were bound to hear about it soon; it was far too late to fix that. But he had to make the doctor think it was nothing, make them think he didn't truly believe it was going to happen….

He couldn't let them transfer him!

He forced himself to sit up, but he still couldn't focus on the two people before him. "What time is it?" he murmured.

The doctor glanced at her wrist. "It's uh… A little late for breakfast, I'm afraid."

Leonard shook his head. "Just want to sleep."

"Okay," the doctor said. "I'll let the warden know that you're not to be disturbed. John? You okay getting him back to his cell?"

"Done. Think you can sit in a wheelchair, Leonard, or you going to need the gurney again?"

"Neither," Leonard said. "I'll walk."

The doctor scoffed.

"Sorry, mate," John replied before she could protest. "Standard procedure. You know that."

Leonard sighed. "Wheelchair."

—FLASH SIDEWAYS: LEGENDS—


John needn't have worried about the night.

Leonard had dropped into a deep sleep that carried him through the night. And while his body temperature had dropped alarmingly low, dialing back on the cooling spell had allowed him to return to normal before the doctor realized there was anything strange about the cold.

And Leonard, for all his stubborn refusal to accept help, had slept the whole way back to his cell, barely rousing even when John maneuvered him into bed. It looked as though he would sleep the day away if he was permitted. In truth, allowing him to sleep off the changes without interference would probably be the best thing for him…..

But not if it led to a psych evaluation. John couldn't allow the transfer that Leonard so feared, but the doctor had been a little too interested in his mental state for the mage's liking. The sooner he could consult with Amber, the better, but for the time being he was stuck conserving his magic for his disguise and Leonard's recovery.

John hesitated only long enough to give orders to the guard, then he made his way to the kitchen to search for anything that resembled food. He returned with the most nutritious—and theoretically digestible—fare that the kitchen had to offer; he would've turned his nose up at all of it under other circumstances, but now it was all he could do to persuade Leonard to eat.

Jeremy returned from the yard a few hours later and began feeding Leonard orange slices. The sight so amused the mage that he didn't bother asking which guard was missing the fruit.

No, John needn't have worried about the night.

But the day was far from over.