Present Day

Location Unknown

He felt as though he was adrift in water, his limbs heavy and breathing even, but lazily conscious. The only real difference was that he didn't feel the coolness of water on his skin, nor the Goosebumps raised by a breeze caressing him. He was weightless, untethered to a grounding point- content and relaxed.

Samuel James Witwicky.

What. He struggled to open his eyes- the lids felt almost as though they'd been seared together, melted to keep them closed.

Awake.

He was trying. Didn't the voice understand that? It was very difficult to do- though he couldn't fathom why. He'd done it thousands of times before. It should be simple- except it wasn't. His body didn't want to listen to his commands.

You have no body. Awake.

Great. Now the booming voice that came from every-fucking-where was a mind reader. Finally, he managed to force his eyes open. At least, he thought they were open, it was hard to tell when he couldn't see anything. Not that he was just in darkness, there was literally nothing to see at all. Where am I?

A good question. You are in a place beyond time and space.

A dream? He thought, rather spontaneously. Why had he thought that?

In a manner.

Okay, seriously, the disembodied voice act is getting old.

And like that, he was no longer in nothing. He was sitting on a rock, surrounded by sand and tall rock walls. It was reminisce of the time in Egypt when he'd-

I died again?

Yes. And No.

What. What? That made absolutely no sense. Either he was dead or he wasn't.

You are a version of yourself from the present. This version of you grew up and lived to be you. However, something has changed in the past. Your past self was killed, which killed now-you. But you shouldn't have been killed back then.

…What? I don't understand.

Time is hardly linear. It is more like a tangled mass of yarn, often doubling back, entwining, forming knots, and running parallel to itself.

That's not helping me understand. He was begining to get irritated on top of being confused.

Let me simplify: For you to have lived to the age you are now, your past self had to have survived. Someone, or someones, went back in time to kill past you. They killed you, killing present-you as well. But that wasn't what happened originally, so it made a different future. The present-you from the original timeline didn't die, because when they killed your past self they made a new timeline, in which present-you does not exist.

…So I'm alive in one timeline, and dead in another?

Yes.

Then why am I here? And what is 'here'?

I told you: we are beyond time and space.

So I'm dreaming that I died, but also didn't die?

No, that actually happened.

This is very confusing.

Your spark-brother understood much better.

A memory of Miles and him playing as kids came to his mind, and he looked around.

Miles is here?

Wait, how did he know the voice meant Miles?

As is your femme.

Mikaela! What did they do? !

They became attached to you. And for that, they were murdered.

That's not fair.

Precious few things in life are.

Where are they?

In similar 'dreams'. The three of you share this fate.

What do we do now?

He saw what he could only describe as an after image, like staring at the sun too long and then looking away only to have discolored circles left. It was himself, a discolored, misshapen form of his self. His hair was longer, more blond than brunette. His eyes were blue instead of green-hazel. His shoulders more slender, his muscles more toned his legs shorter and torso longer. But he could tell it was his self.

What?

I will give you a choice. You may come with me and be at peace.

Peace?

Or you may return to life.

You can do that?

In a way. I cannot return you to your life as it was. But I can give you a life.

What about Mikaela, and Miles?

I have offered them the same. Their decisions, and yours, are not to be made by others. So I will not influence your choice by reveling what the others have done.

…

Did he want to live, even if he couldn't be himself? If he couldn't recognize his own reflection? …but it was only a superficial change. He'd still have his thoughts, his morals, his feelings. His family motto, if not his family.

Have you chosen?

Yeah. I choose to live.

You are sure? Even though you will no longer be Samuel James Witwicky?

I'll still be Samuel James Witwicky. I just won't look like myself.

You will not change your mind? No second thoughts? This is a permanent change.

No sacrifice, no victory.

Very well.

He felt a tingle in his fingertips, and his toes. It quickly spread, like a wildfire in a drought. He was incased in it, and though he felt he was awake, it was as though he still slept and his eyes begged to open. Like his whole body had fallen asleep.

Awake.

He obeyed.