When was the last time he used that word to describe himself? Was it when he was a kid? He had the brief, faded memory of his mother hovering over him in the home they lived in at the time. Too sick to go to school, not too sick to travel with. He could remember occasionally his parents coming over to check on him when he was laying in the back of the truck they had traveled over to the fields. Occasionally bringing water, occasionally bringing bread. One time, someone from the house that had hired his parents had come to the back of the pick-up truck, peering over the edges with a tray of soup and some sort of hot liquid. 'Drink it, you'll feel better.' But it had caused his stomach to seize up and he had spent a majority of the time hanging his head off the side because he couldn't get himself up to move.
He remembered watching the shadows of his mom and dad in the distance, summer heat making them seem more like mirages than actual people. Wrapped up in wet towels when people had enough time to stop and bring them over to the kid. If there was one thing in the memories of his family he did have it was that life never stopped because you were sick. You just pushed through it. Life never stopped for anyone. It wasn't going to stop. You rolled out of bed and went to work.
Hector rolled out of bed, his body aching and his head feeling like it could lift up like a balloon full of helium but he still got ready to do things around the facility. His powers had never been deactivated in this way. The way where he could feel totally human again, bleed again. He'd remembered scrapped knees and bared palms when he was a kid but nothing really traumatic. He had his first papercut in almost twenty years the other day. Now he was sick for the first time since he was a boy and he remembered how lucky he was not to feel this way as he walked down the hallway to do some volunteer work in the med lab. It wasn't much. He knew his powers made it impossible for them to consider him anything but a field agent. But he still wanted to pretend like there was a chance he could do more with his life. That he was more than someone they sent in to wreck shit. Usually Avery was around but it seemed, for the most part -- it was a slow day. No one around. As much as he could tell.
The other thing he hated about it. There was no heightened senses. It was almost as if he was going through the facility blind. Hector gathered up a couple things, beginning to tidy up paper files and sift through what had happened in the days he hadn't invited himself to work in the labs for a while. Especially not since the incident with Calvin. Even with his powers deactivated he was too afraid to lose control of himself. Hector leaned forward, propping his head on his arms against one of the tables to press his cheek against it and it was cold enough to offer some relief before something at the corner of his eye made him jump a little. "Oh...Jesus, you scared me. I thought I was alone." He sniffled, reaching to grab some tissues.