The dim kitchen lights gave just enough glow to reflect in Kaldur's eyes. His pupils shone like a cat's as they tracked me.

"Maybe don't make yourself tea when you're half asleep," I said, sweeping up the broken ceramic. The pieces chinked and clinked together, grating on my ears.

He grimaced. "Connor has a habit of turning the temperature up and forgetting to put it back down. Heat does not affect him as much. I am sorry for waking you."

"You've said that already. I wasn't asleep anyway, so I'd much rather you come get me than go on a mission with a burnt hand." The last of the mug fell into the garbage can. "Did you want me to make you a cup of tea?"

He shook his head and stood up. "I think I'll be able to manage," he said with a small smile. "Goodnight, Joy."

With a small wave, I retreated back into the hallways. My stomach rumbled, but I couldn't go back. It would look odd. I could hear him getting down another mug as the door slipped shut. Darkness filled the room. I collapsed on my bed. 

Five minutes. 

Ten. 

Twenty, the clock taunted. 

The left wall of my room was plain. I rolled. The right wasn't any better. They were nothing like the walls of my room. Where these were dull and carved from stone, plain and gray, the others had stickers, paint, and framed pictures all in a row. Batman might've sighed when he saw what I'd done, how I'd made the room look like that of a four year old, but he'd help me paint butterflies above the door. (He had me sit on his shoulders, saying he wasn't good with painting things. He didn't think I'd notice the little bat by the light switch.)

Captain Marvel had brought me a star projector, saying that he didn't need it anymore. 

With a loud groan, I rolled over again this time pulling my pillow over my face. Short of smothering myself, the early morning would be a repeat of earlier; futile attempts to sleep and brief moments just under the surface, always aware never truly resting. I popped my fingers and rolled my wrists. Aches lingered in them, remnants from fights long passed. 

Water would solve that issue.

Water would also help me sleep. It would cradle me and soothe and caress all my worries away. Kiss and brush my skin, card through my hair---Did Dad do that or was I doing it subconsciously, so starved for affection from him?---and make all the problems seem far away. If I was at Camp--

I ripped Riptide from my pocket and threw it into the darkness. My fingers dug deep into my arms. "I'm not that," I whispered on shuddered breaths. "I'm just a mortal. Dad's dead, he's always been dead, and I'm normal. I just-- I got powers in an accident." If I said it enough, then it would be true. "He died in a boating accident, he's dead, and I'm just a powered human."

Convincing myself was a much easier feat at night. In the darkness, away from prying eyes, soft words and harsh truths would meld together. And if I could get myself to believe it here, then I could do it in the light. The lies would roll off of my tongue like the water I control, and they'd taste like nectar instead of copper and I'd fool myself.

Get too good at lying, and you may end up forgetting the truth yourself. 

And that was the dream. One day, I might wake up, say 'my dad is dead' and it would be true in all the ways that mattered. I could go through life without fear. Walking down the street wouldn't require me to have a weapon on hand. A game of dodgeball wouldn't turn into a fight for my life. 

I swallowed. Don't think. Sleep. 

Still, the thoughts kept coming, and with them came a buzz under my skin.

The medbay light clicked on automatically, and I rummaged through the medicine cabinet. I pulled down bottle after bottle, squinting at the labels. "Why does he have to label these with the weird names big?" I grumbled. Small text was so much harder to read. I tossed Riptide away again without a second thought. 

Two doses of Nyquil. Two doses of Benadryl.

My bed seemed so much more inviting after that. I curled into my blankets, nuzzled into my pillow. Fatigue pressed on my eyelids, and then on my limbs. Warm. My visor came free and I placed it on the nightstand. Safe. 

Sleep. 

My phone buzzed, but I ignored it. Movement was out of the question. All I could do, relax and wait to sink under. I could rest. 

(Dinah would tell me about her patrols. Is that what the text is?)

Mind retreating and shutting off, I didn't care. 

I could finally sleep.

"We've searched all of the seas, my Lord," said a raven haired Atlantean. His hands trembled and clutched before he hid them within the flowing folds of his robes. "No one has passed a positive report back. I- I have contacted King Orin of Poseidonis, but I have yet to receive a response from him."

Dad sighed and rested his cheek on his hand. Years and years had piled on his face, deepening the lines and graying his hair. He closed his eyes and pressed his lips into a thin line. The man trembled when Dad's fingers brushed along the handle of his trident. "You're dismissed." 

I was planning on updating this like, last week, but then the power went off for like four days, and I cant exactly remember what this chapter was supposed to be

But! I hope you enjoyed this one

See yah