He woke up in a hospital bed.

Not that he knew where he was right away. No, he'd laid quite still with his eyes still closed, listening to the steady beep of a heart monitor and the sound of soft soled shoes walking outside his door. He'd taken deep breaths of the sterile air, felt the thin sheet under his fingertips, and allowed the stark white florescent lights to beat upon his lids before opening his eyes. Or tried to open his eyes, that is.

His whole body felt heavy. It felt as if his long eyelashes weighed a pound each. It felt like he had been filled with wet cement before waking up in this room. He tried to swallow but he might as well have been trying to choke down cold molasses.

The man gave up trying to open his eyes, content to just lay in this bed, and try to remember why he was in it in the first place.

This was easier said then done.

He lay still for ten minutes, shifting through the fog in his brain, before he could grab on to the events of earlier that day. It had been normal; he'd woken up, got dressed, went outside for a run, ate, showered, dressed again. How did that lead to him barely being able to move, heavy bodied in a hospital bed. He concentrated harder, delving further into his sluggish memory. After getting dressed, he'd...he had.....

What had he done?

Gone to the docks?

No, that was yesterday. Today he had.... He had needed something....

Rope.

He remembered now. He'd needed to buy a new rope to tie up his boat. He was trying to sell her, but the old rope he had now was too frayed and he very well couldn't sell a boat that had floated out to sea. Yes, so, he'd gone to buy new rope. Then what? He hadn't had anything important to do today, so he'd decided to amble about and enjoy the weather. He remembered the heavy weight of the bag filled with rope hitting the side of his leg as he walked the beach. It had been hot and he'd wanted a bottle of water so he'd gone back up onto the boardwalk, to buy one. He stood and line and...

That was it.

His recollections stopped there.

The man furrowed his brow. Why couldn't he remember anything after that? Whatever must have happened as he stood in line must be the reason why he was here now. Had he gotten pushed accidently, fallen, and hit his head? That didn't make sense, though. Plain and simple he was built solid. At 6'2 and 180 pounds it would have taken a pretty big person to knock him down with such force. He relaxed and concentrated for a moment, but felt no lingering pain in his skull. In fact he didn't feel pain anywhere. Except there was a tingling in his left arm...

His heart sped up, pounding quickly and suddenly, and he finally got the strength to force his eyes apart. He squinted as the harsh light burned his corneas, but he continued to move to a somewhat sitting position. His limbs were still heavy and the sudden movements made his head spin. None of this mattered, as he tried harder to move his arms and legs.

Just then, a man in a white lab coat breezed in the room. He was of average height, with short, neat brown hair, and clever, brown eyes. His nose was rather large and he had slight stubble. Though he looked tired, his expression was kind, as was his voice when he spoke.

"Ah, awake I see."

The man in the bed ignored the doctor. His tongue was too thick to speak anyway.

"You had quite a fall there Mister..." he checked the clipboard he carried. "Valjean. Please lie still."

The man stilled. Not because this doctor asked it of him, but even after nearly three years, he wasn't quite used to his 'name.'

And of course he'd had quite a fall. He remembered as he reached for the bottle of water right as the blinding, searing pain hit him. He'd felt his arm burn hot plenty of times over the years, but never that badly. Not to the point of passing out and waking up in the hospital at any rate.

But he couldn't tell the doctor that.

"Do you remember what happened?" He shook his head no. It wasn't really a lie, really. Well, yes it was, but nothing he had done earlier that day contributed to his current predicament. The doctor frowned at his clipboard "Well, we spoke to Sydney Police and they reported that twenty or so people watched you collapse on the boardwalk, clutching your arm, and convulsing before passing out. I've run some tests and x-rayed your arm, but could find nothing odd. Has this happened before?"

The man in the bed didn't answer the question. He was too busy listening to the echo in his head. '...could find nothing odd..... Nothing odd. Couldn't find.' The man struggled to move again, this time succeeding in sitting up.

Slowly he raised his left arm so the forearm rested in his lap. Someone had dressed him in a tight white thermal under his white hospital gown. He took a heavy right hand and fumbled with the sleeve of the arm in his lap. He pulled it up, hand trembling, to reveal a smooth expanse of pale skin.

Clear skin.

It was gone.

His Dark Mark was gone.