Swimming in a sea of void, she's floating, just barely above the crest of the waves.
Suddenly submerged, she gasps for breath. There's nowhere to surface; it's the same above and below.
The world is laid out before her. It is innumerable; a singular instance would have already been uncountable, but she gazes into an infinitum, a planet folded in on itself over and over and over again. A brilliant fractal, branches and trees all within the same spherical forest.
One branch stands out to her, another a heavy presence in the back of her mind.
Where to go?
She waits, takes her time. Sinking, but slowly. Not falling, but fading.
Impatient, something else makes the decision for her. Not a step, but a stumble; shoved awkwardly forward into reality.
She breathes in, deeply: Water, real this time, heavy and burning in her lungs.
Choking, thrashing.
A thousand pounds of ocean weigh down on her; she's crushed beneath the pressure, can't move. Panicking. Drowning, metaphorically and literally, mental burden made physical.
Where is this place?
Where am -
Where am I?
Silence.
She feels the pull, again. Almost beckoning to her. Something beyond this vast emptiness, calling to her.
This time, she chooses where to go. Not consciously, nothing as simple as that, but there's an element of certainty, of destination, in the eventual result.
A woman screams.
She's gasping for air, keeling over. It comes - so easily, blood rushing through her veins. Coughing, attempting to expel water from her lungs, finding only air.
The most delicious breath she's ever taken. Not that she remembers many others.
"It's- You- you're back."
Neither of them appear particularly calm; the woman's expression is still intermingled surprise and fear, and she's still breathing hard. She struggles for a moment for what to say, settling on the simple: "Yes."
"Listen, I-"
"Annette, honey, what's going on?"
"It's- this is the girl I told you about, Herb." Only a few seconds have passed, but the woman - Annette - is already composed, crossing her arms.
A brief flare of recognition, quickly subsiding.
He squints. "The one that got run over?" Blunt. Not skeptical, but something close. Worried, perhaps, but he's an unfamiliar face, even more than the woman.
There's a pause. "It would seem so."
A brief sensation of pain shoots through her foot. She looks down. No useful information, other than the colour of her shoes.
"So you're a - what do they call them, again? Parahuman?"
They're grey. In the mediocre lighting, they almost blend in with the grey-brown plank flooring. It looks cold. She shivers.
"Maybe."
He snorts. "A bit non-committal, I get you. So you're, uh, here to visit?"
"Maybe."
The two adults glance at each other.
She frowns, just slightly. Wasn't there something she was supposed to be doing? She searches back -
sinking pressure
choking
"Are you okay? Hey, say something!"
Her knees press against the cold floor. Wood buckles, a barely noticeable amount, under their weight. A spark of a headache shoots through her head, deep and frantic breathing making a faint fog. The floor looks cold, is cold, a chill permeating through her dark blue jeans. Blue on grey-brown, distant light providing pale shadow, talking and near-silent buzzing ringing in her head. She shivers uncontrollably.
"What do I do? Anne, do I need to call someone? An ambulance?"
"No, that wouldn't be a good idea. Can you get her something to drink?"
Water swishes back and forth. Miniature waves. Sound waves, too. Back and forth, side to side.
She drinks. Breathes deeply.
And then she's choking again, spasming, hunched over the ground. The knowledge, piercing through the fog, that her time here is already over.
For a moment, she'd wanted to be here. Faltered, just barely. Is this her punishment?
The woman's voice is raised. The man has a hand on her shoulder-
Then she's in the void again, alone. Her ears seem to ring for a moment; it fades, and she remembers.
For once, she makes a conscious decision to stay longer. Not that long - not that she could keep track of time either way - but long enough to think over things. She peruses her memory, indexes it, analyzes.
A decision, backed by realization: Parahuman powers make some things easier. Making money, forming relationships of a sort. dying, pain, despair Other things, it makes more difficult. In particular, living a long life, or even a peaceful one. distanced from society, hopeless
If she's immortal - well, nothing lasts forever. But if she can't die in a regular sense, then there's no reason to avoid it. this can't be right
She hears faint whispers, a voice - in her mind, perhaps, but is there anything here other than her mind? Counsels patience, safety. Inaction, passivity.
For a moment, she listens. Then ignores it, and it fades, as if suppressed.
"Hey, Sarah."
Shock, surprise.
Her mind begins to fade. "I'm sorry about disappearing on you. Can you-"
The next sentence is already gone, if she ever planned it at all. She can't think of anything to say, mouth open for a moment before she closes it, looks around.
"It's okay. I understand. Powers can be hard to work with."
A nod.
"Why don't you go and rest? If you think you've got a bit of a better hold of what you can do, now, perhaps we can test some things out tomorrow."
Two weeks later, the apocalypse comes.