I.

It was cold. So cold it was burning in the places that could still feel. I'd stopped shaking which I was glad of. When I shook it jarred the deep pain in my chest. No pain was better. Except it wasn't. The shaking was important because...because…

The end of the thought was gone as something warm and wet hit my cheek. I opened my eyes-when had I closed them, I couldn't remember-to take in a familiar pair of golden brown eyes on a long fuzzy face. There was grey along the muzzle that pressed against my face vibrating with a whine I slowly took in. The world was slow, draggy like waking from a too long sleep.

There was another sharp whine and I opened my eyes again. I couldn't remember closing them. I tried to focus on the dog touching me. It settled against my body, I could feel it jarring me as it laid against me. There was no pain which should be concerning...Another lick had me focusing on the face of the dog I knew.

An old familiar face made something relax and tense in me. I loved this animal, but I was afraid? Not of the dog no, it was...For the dog! I clung to that thought. It was because there was something wrong. The dog-was it a boy or a girl-was hurt and it needed help. A sharp energizing flash of fear leaped in my chest at that and I tried to move my arms to touch the dog to pet it-him, her-and check over it, but they wouldn't cooperate. There wasn't anything there to feel even though I knew there were arms there. They wouldn't move though.

Another whine and I opened my mouth to speak, but all that came was a choking rasp. I swallowed throat dry and sore and tried again.

"It's okay. Shh," I told the animal, which gave another whine and tucked its head under my chin laying across my chest. "I-I'm f-fine. Y-You'll be alright boy." The name came in a slow realization. "I-It's ok-kay T-Tob-by."

Toby. Aboy. I'd had him since I was nineteen, my mind supplied. Already old and worn when I found him. He'd been like me, sad and alone and hurt, but he'd approached me tail not wagging but gentle as he licked my hand and it had been the first time I'd smiled in months. We'd been together five years. More came back slowly, too slowly for it to be alright.

"T-Toby." I said voice shaking an stuttering in the cold. "I h-hit my h-head."

Concussion. My mind supplied followed by a list of causes, treatments, and side effects that was grounding and familiar. Why did I know all this? Because I was a nurse. That was why, my mind clung to the idea the word bringing up images of thick anatomy books filled with ink and comments, dirty scrubs thrown across a chair instead of into the laundry basket, and a long hallway with doors each with names attached and people inside. A feeling of possessive pride also came with the images. It was mine I'd worked hard for it. I liked helping people and it was something no one could take from me.

I was here because of something medical. Something medical and Toby. The flash of fear came with the image of a dark brown and grey dog curled onto a quilt and a prescription of pills. Toby was sick. The idea explained the fear, but not why I was outside. We should both be inside. He shouldn't be cold. He was too old, too tired and sick. He needed to be warm. He needed medicine. He needed a vet-

A quick flash of panic and a phone call and car keys.

That was it I realized with a slow coming feeling of triumphant. We were out because I was taking Toby to the vet, but something was wrong and we weren't in the car anymore. Something hurt inside, though I didn't feel pain anymore. There was wrongness inside and out and my body wasn't listening like it should. I wasn't thinking right or moving right. Thinking...thinking was hard…

Sleep, sleep sounded nice. Closing my eyes and drifting. When I woke up it would be better. Toby and I would move and he would be fine. Just a little break from thinking and trying. Just a little sleep.

There was a sharp whine and my eyes opened again there was something cold and wet in my eyelashes. Snow, I noticed. That explained the cold. Snow and cold. The whine didn't stop and I looked down to the brown-and-grey fur, but it wasn't vibrating. It was a different kind of whine I realized. Familiar though. Just as familiar as Toby.

Not a whine, a siren. Then I saw the light blue and red right on the edge of my vision. The lights stayed and the siren stopped nearby and stayed without. But there was new noises. A crunching-feet on snow-that came towards me.

Toby made a not whine-growl-that vibrated heavily.

"Shh," I slurred. My tongue was heavy and hard. My shaky word had been easier. It was too thick to make any now.

"Shh." I told Toby again and I saw a face above me. The mouth moved, but I didn't understand the words. The expression was serious, concerned. It was a sort of familiar face like the siren and Toby had been.

I must now them.

"Shh," I told them hoping it would make the sad-pain-worry on the face go away. "Shh."

The weight was gone and I was lifted.

I was set on something.

The lights and siren were closer now.

The face was gone, but then it was back.

"Shh." I said and closed my eyes.

There was a distant howl that followed me into the dark.

. . .

It was dark for a very long time after that, but slowly things began to come back to me. My mind grew sharper and I recognized what was going on around me. I was warm and floating. Occasionally I could hear a vibration that wasn't quite sound, but almost a voice. As time passed in my safe-warm-floating place I realized there were two voices. One was deep and loud always happy, masculine. The other was softer and feminine and it sang. A man and woman I recognized slowly, but was to content, sleeping too often to think on it much.

I realized I loved them abruptly while the woman's voice sang to me. It was a warm feeling that I'd felt too little and I reveled in it. I knew the voices loved me too and I clung to them happily. The warm floaty feeling alway intensified with the woman sang and I knew that somehow this was her way of touching me of taking care of me.

When I was aware enough to recognize I had limbs I liked to move hoping they would notice. The first little movement made the voices freeze and then get louder, shouting happy. I began to do it more often whenever I cycled through awareness and sleep. I was forgetting something, but it slipped away just as easily as the voices slipped in.

Slowly as I moved my place began to shrink. It wasn't uncomfortable but I wondered when I would leave. Surely I could. There was a knowledge of more places of being able to leave places. I should be able to, but couldn't remember why I stayed. The thought slipped like many did even as I became slowly aware of myself.

The day I remembered myself fully the warm floaty place began to shrink and squeeze and there was a terrifying feeling of movement and then cold and bright. With my first breath came awareness. I was Karen. I was dead. My car had slid on black ice and went over an embankment. I had died on a snowy day with my elderly dog by my side.

And I was breathing again.

With the realization of life-impossible, improbable-came the worst headache of my life. I didn't scream there was too much pain and tight to move. There was just more black and my awareness disappeared.

. . .

The next time I woke up I was a soft bed and looking at a baby mobile that was made up of shells and colorful bits of glass. It was a nice one I reflected and the slow warm waking kept me from panicking or remembering too much as I examined my surroundings. For some reason my bed was caged in by wooden beams and padded, filled with a soft blanket and pillows. That didn't make sense, but I felt too safe and content and familiar with everything to feel suspicious.

The moment only lasted a few seconds, maybe a minute at the most, but it was part of the long slow build to awareness. I woke more and more over the next few months. Each moment lasting longer and more permanent. As the moments of "Karen" increased I became aware of my memories and of being "Rin" too.

Karen was a bewildered adult woman with two dogs who was supposed to be dead. Rin was a happy smiling baby who sometimes was a little too smart with two loving parents she adored.

I was, I slowly realized, very much both. I had been Karen for a good twenty-seven years and had no intention of letting her go. But I was also Rin, more prone to tears and not quite as in control of her emotions as Karen. I remembered Karen's life, as short and filled with problems as it had been, wistfully and remembered the hard won lessons from it. I loved the openness of Rin. She was new and had a life just beginning, filled with possibility. I loved her parents, the voices I'd loved and who had kept me company.

I wasn't stopping with Karen, she was me, but I was happy to step into Rin.

By the time I was a year old I had securely integrated both and was ready and a little excited for a new life, even if it came with the restraints of babyhood and upcoming childhood. That was of course when I realized that being Rin was not quite so simple. Apparently life wasn't done screwing with me.

AN: This story is very much going to be a first draft as it is being written for Camp NaNoWriMo and will be published a little more fresh of the presses than usual, so it will like be revised and come back to. It was inspired by the good SI/OC's out there, I'm sure if you're reading this you already know a few. I can't expect to do as good as they did as this is a work to help me improve and a fun thing for my own enjoyment. I hope you enjoy it too though!

AFTER SCENE NOTE: Toby and his brother were adopted by one of the EMT's and lived to a long happy age spoiled rotten and well cared for. They both spent days thinking back on Karen though with great fondness and missed her.