The last thing you remember is telling Max to Rot in hell, gritting through your teeth, your mask cut, your goggles smashed, and you remember the sound of a gunshot.

It's the last thing you remember, because after this, there isn't anything else.

There's no Heaven, there's no Hell. There's just darkness, just a weird limbo that you're not sure what to do with. But you've died. You at least know that much, even though you can't help those that you left behind. You can't even try to tell Michael not to get too upset about things, because it's not like he ever really listens to you anyway, but does he even believe in ghosts? You don't even know if you believe in ghosts, but you are one, so that has to mean something. Right? No, wrong. A man of science doesn't believe in the supernatural. Everything is based in logic and fact, everything is based in science. Ghosts are not real. And thus, you are not real anymore. You don't exist anymore.

Because it all ended with a former ally, shooting you point blank in the head, ending your life.

Only, it doesn't end here. You wake up screaming, shooting up out of bed, soaked in sweat. You remember the gunshot like it was yesterday, because to you, it feels like it was yesterday. In the dark of the room, you raise your hand to your head, where the bullet must have gone through, only to find that there is nothing wrong. You're not bleeding, you're not dying. In fact, you're very much the opposite. You're alive, you're breathing. You're alone, but well you've never really found someone to share a bed with anyway, and as much as you'd like to have a body to keep warm at night, you have a feeling you're going to be waking up with a lot of these night terrors.

Because it doesn't seem right. It almost doesn't seem like that was your life, because you know who you are. You're Thad Powers. You're a tech guy, you're a socially awkward genius who would rather sit behind a computer than to talk to people face to face (but you're getting better at it.) You're not...

You're not...

But you are. You're Ted Kord. (Not Theodore, never Theodore). And you were betrayed by someone you once viewed to be a close friend, all because of a disagreement. And when you told him to rot in hell, you had said it with the most anger and venom in your voice that you have never had for anyone else in your life. And when he aimed the gun and fired, you didn't close your eyes. You stared him down, even if for a brief second, being defiant until the very end.

But it hasn't ended, has it? You're still soaked in your own sweat, and finally get out of the bed and go into the bathroom. You turn on the shower, you strip off your clothes, and you get in, you shower off everything, and you keep touching your head. Because it should bleeding. Because there should be a gunshot wound here and it shouldn't be healed. Yet, it's as if nothing happened. Because maybe, nothing did. Maybe it was imaginary. Maybe it was all in your head.

But the memories of another life, the memories of Thad Powers and Ted Kord don't match up and that's going to make things a little harder to handle. Because you're a man of science. You're a man of science and tech, of nuts and bolts, of metal and wires, of chemistry and physics. Not of mystical beliefs and religion and reincarnation. But that's what this is, isn't it? Reincarnation. Because you're alive, when you shouldn't be. You almost wonder if this is a good thing. You died for a reason, so why the hell are you back?

(Not that the reason was a good one. But there is an order to things. People don't just come back from the dead. Not like this.)

You take longer in the shower then you should, because you're lost in thought. You're just lost in more ways than one and you don't really want to admit to that. Is it only you? Is there anyone else around? Is Michael here? Is Bea? Is Tora? Guy? Or is it just you? Is the Justice League still around, does that even exist anymore? Or has that fallen to the wayside? What is it that you're missing? The last question is easy to answer. You're missing a lot. What has happened since you died? Have people moved on? Even if it feels just like it was yesterday to you, it might have been days for other people. Weeks. Months. Years. How much time has passed?

It's not until you've gotten out of the shower and wrapped a towel around your waist that you finally try to take mental notes of things. You're in good shape, which, is good for a variety of reasons. You're healthy it seems. Memories of Thad tell you that he's got the same issues that you have, and you're not sure if that's good or bad. You're leaning towards ‘bad', but what do you know right now? There's a lot you must have missed. There has to be.

You leave the shower and you start wandering through the apartment looking through his things, looking through his photographs. Every now and then Thad says something to you in your head, and you reply out loud, and feel strange about it. Voices in your head, it's...new. Or are you the voice in his head? You're not a psychiatrist, you know that much. You can't define this that quickly.

Reaching the living room, you scan through the DVDs, games, and records that are lying around, and the photos that are sitting on the bookshelf. It's then that you pause, seeing a framed photo of you and Thad's best friend Jon. Arms around each other's shoulders, grinning like damn fools, and there are laughter lines on your (Thad's) face. And you start laughing. Full on laughing, your almost trademark laugh, because of just who Thad's best friend really is.

It's Michael. It's Booster. Because of course it is.

It's the first time you've laughed, and you know you're not going back to sleep any time soon (because the memory of the gunshot is still so clearly in your mind), so it's something good to focus on.

You have a lot of questions. There are a lot of things that need to be answered, and you're sure there is a lot that you've missed and need to be caught up on. But at least one thing has stayed the same.

Or...so you hope. Only one way to find out.