This Phic has been a long time coming. I've wanted to do it forever and here we are. No idea on an updating schedule. I sat down to work on Metro last night and this came out instead.

Despite the uncertainty, I'm excited to finally throw this out into the world and I hope you enjoy it as well.


Funny, but she pictured Heaven differently.

The light was there- that much seemed to be true. Warm, soft and inviting, drawing her to it with an ambient glow.

And yet…

Awakening?

Darkness had been her world for so long. A void without shape, without sound, without time. Then—something. A flicker of sensation. The distant hum of machines. A dull ache in her limbs.

The sudden, brilliant, light.

She felt like she was floating, her body not entirely her own. There was pressure against her chest, warmth on her skin. She tried to move, but her muscles were heavy, unresponsive. A soft beeping pierced through the silence, rhythmic and steady, a quiet metronome marking time.

She wasn't alone. There were voices, distant but familiar.

"…no change today either."

"She'll wake up, I know she will."

A woman's voice. Soft, but resolute.

"Meg?," The thought drifted, sluggish and unsure. Where have you been?

A hand slipped over hers, fingers gently squeezing. The warmth of it stirred something inside her chest, a tether to the world beyond the darkness. She tried to squeeze back, but nothing happened. Her body refused to obey and she felt herself drifting happily back into oblivion.

The next time, the light was back, brighter

More voices drifted in and out. A doctor, speaking in clinical tones. Something about brain activity, muscle atrophy, patience. A man's voice this time, rough with exhaustion.

I know him.

The tone stirred something deep inside her, an ache that had nothing to do with the physical. A dark tenor, warm, familiar and imploring. He was here. He was here for her.

"Christine…" His voice was so close. "I don't know if you can hear me, but if you can—" A shaky breath. "I need you to wake up. Please."

Christine. That's my name…I think?

She tried. She tried so hard.

Her eyelids felt like they were made of stone, her limbs weighted down by something invisible. A fog filled her mind, thick and impenetrable, but she fought against it. Her breath hitched, a sudden hitch in the steady rhythm of the ventilator.

A pause.

Silence.

Then movement. A chair scraping back.

"Christine?" The voice sharpened, blunted edges immediately refined with a new hope threading through it. She willed her body to respond, and this time—something happened. Her fingers twitched.

A gasp. A flurry of movement. The beep of the heart monitor picked up, as if it, too, recognized the shift.

"Doctor! Get the doctor!"

Footsteps rushed out of the room. More voices. The sound of people coming and going, but she could focus only on one thing—light. Back again. A faint glow beyond her closed eyelids. Brief, before darkness crowded in.

No. Not again.

She tried again. Her eyelashes fluttered, just a sliver of the world slipping in. Blurred shapes. Shadows. She blinked, sluggish and slow, and the light morphed just a little, illuminating a cacophony of faces darting in and out of the narrow slit.

One in particular.

There it was .

Tired eyes, dark circles beneath them. No…around them. depth was…wrong. Almost as if she were at the bottom of two holes, unable to converge no matter how much she blinked them in and out of focus. But his fingers…those she felt. Long and lean and gripping her hand like a lifeline, moving restlessly up and down her hand like a scale, desperate to commit to memory. I like his fingers.

"Chrstine," he breathed again, like her name alone could steady him.

She wanted to answer. Wanted to tell him she was here, that she could hear him. But all that came out was a ragged breath, her throat raw, dry.

More people entered the room. A doctor, nurses, the comforting touch gone in an instant as he was assumedly shuffled away in the sudden chaos. The machines beeped faster, responding to the changes in her body. Someone was speaking, giving instructions. Checking vitals.

"Okay Christine, if you can hear me, try to squeeze my hand," A different voice, the doctor? Maybe? said.

She tried. The effort sent a jolt of pain through her fingers, like they'd been asleep for too long. But then—she felt it. Her hand closing, just slightly, around another. Not his. Not the one she wanted.

A choked sound came from across the room, something between a sob and a laugh. She recognized it, even in the ambiguity of the sound. Come back.

"She's here," A female whispered, voice thick with emotion. "She's really here. I need to tell the others!"

Her breathing quickened, shallow and shaky. Panic started to creep in as she became more aware of her body. The stiffness in her muscles, the dull ache in her head, the sharp scent of antiseptic in the air. She tried to speak, but the sound that came out was barely more than a rasp.

"Shh, it's okay." A nurse touched her shoulder gently. "You've been asleep for a long time, sweetie. Don't force anything. Let your body make the calls"

How long? The thought formed sluggishly in her mind as her eyes finally cracked open, attempting to orient her in the unfamiliar surroundings.. She wanted to ask, but even that felt like too much effort.

The doctor must have seen the question in her eyes because he swallowed hard and said, "You gave us quite a scare, young lady. After six weeks, we were beginning to fear the worst."

Six weeks.

The weight of it hit her all at once. She had been gone. Time had passed without her. The world had moved on while she lay trapped in the dark.

Tears burned behind her eyes. She had missed so much.

The doctor squeezed her hand. "You're here now," he murmured, like he could sense the storm of emotions rising in her. "That's what matters. You've had quite the crowd of people worried about you. Although…" He cast a lance over his shoulder and she willed her eyes to follow, two pairs landing on the tall, thin figure prowling just outside her door, "there is one person who seems especially insistent."

She looked at him, then back to the face practically pressed against the viewing window of the door. Her breath hitched as he came into focus, mouth in a tight line, brown furrowed and breath fogging up the small glass pane. Is that him? With the hands and the voice? But he's….

Sensing her hesitancy, the doctor placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "It's all right, my dear. It's a lot to take in and I'm sure you have plenty of questions. Let's start with the obvious. My name is Dr. Leonetti. You're currently in the ICU at Carolinas Medical Center in Charlotte, North Crolina." He chuckled when her brow furrowed at the strange news. "Yes, I'm aware you're from New York, but you were here when the accident occurred." She glanced up sharply, and he nodded. "Yes, you were in an accident. You-"

Commotion in the hall prevented any further answers. Suddenly the door to her room banged open, hitting the wall with a resounding thud as the face from the window stormed through with an emphatic "Let me see her, damn it!" for good measure. She watched, wide-eyed as the man rushed to her side, immediately taking her hand, her fingers curling around his immediately, the familiarity answering a distant call. There you are.

She glanced up, taking in the lines of around his mouth that hadn't been there before (or had they?), the exhaustion in his gaze. Somehow, she knew him. She knew that he had stayed. Through all of it.

The mask came only as an afterthought. A mystery to be unraveled at a later time.

But why?

The doctor continued speaking, explaining her condition, the physical therapy ahead, the long road to recovery. But she barely heard it. Her world had shrunk down to the person at her side, holding onto her like he was afraid to lose her again—the only one that mattered in this moment.

Her body was weak, her mind sluggish, but one thing was certain.

She had fought her way back.

And she wasn't going to let go of this second chance.

Her gaze slid to the masked stranger holding her hand, tethering her to this reality. Clearly, he knew her, was somehow a part of all of this.

Maybe he was the key she needed to unlock whatever the hell was going on.


Thank you for reading! As always, reviews are most welcome and appreciated.