Darkness embraced him. Every now and then, it would fade a little and he would become aware that he couldn't move. That was fine; he wasn't sure that he wanted to move. It seemed like so much effort for such a pointless thing. He drifted in the shadows, letting them take him where they willed.

It was also warm, like he was swathed in meters of cotton, head to toe, like a babe. Sometimes there were whispers. Sometimes there were beeps. Or clicks and squeaks and a phone ringing far away. Once, he thought he heard someone weeping, a soft thing made of sighs and whimpers.

Occasionally, he would catch a sharp scent. It was unpleasant, a chemical twang that made him wrinkle his nose. He hated that smell. Sometimes, it would pull him away from quiet darkness and tug him towards... somewhere else.

Eventually, Seth opened his eyes.

There were lights overhead, but only one was on, leaving the room dimmed. It was still bright enough to hurt his eyes and his head, which promptly gave a ferocious throb.

He squeezed his eyes shut, but the discomfort didn't stop. It only grew, rapidly becoming the worst headache he'd ever experienced. He might have whimpered. Seth didn't remember; he just tried to ride it out with little success.

It got worse when he tried to reach for his head. An unexpected pain roared in his left arm, rocketing from shoulder to hand, from hand to his head, compounding in a white-hot spike so fierce that his vision darkened.

The next thing he was aware of was someone leaning over him. The pain had settled, though it was still very present. The person over him pulled back and through blurry eyes, he recognized the blue scrubs of a nurse.

Hospital? Was that where this was? That didn't make sense.

"Are you awake?" The nurse peered down at him with tired brown eyes. "What's wrong, honey? Are you hurting?"

"Yeah," he admitted, then wished he hadn't spoken. Just the sound of his own voice rattled through his skull, awakening the dull headache to renewed fury.

"Can you tell me what hurts?"

"Head," he gasped. "Arm."

"Your arm?" She frowned, a sign that was never good, but it faded as she straightened. "Okay, I'll get you something. Just give me a moment, I'll be right back."

He watched her leave, feeling some of his strength leaving with her. He must have drifted because before he knew it, she was back. A man who was also in scrubs was with her. He was tall with deeply bronzed skin and black eyes full of good humor.

It instantly reminded Seth of Rasin, and just like that, everything rushed back to him like an overwhelming tidal wave, breaking over him and drowning him beneath its crushing weight. Later he'd be too embarrassed to admit it, but he sobbed. Great big heaving cries that shuddered through him and made everything hurt even more.

Seth didn't remember much after that.

When he next woke, he found Mrs Beakor sitting in a chair by his bed. She had one leg up on the armrest and a paperback book in her hands. Half the book was folded back while she read intently.

He watched her read for a while, blinking eyes that felt too dry. He didn't hurt much anymore. There was still some pain, but it was distant. Fog drifted through his mind which made it hard to think clearly. It took him a long time to figure out that he wanted to say something to her.

After an eternity, he croaked, "Hey."

Mrs Beakor lifted her head. A big smile immediately appeared. "Hey, kiddo."

Hearing the familiar voice and endearment, the corner of Seth's mouth tugged upwards.

"What," he rasped, "you reading?"

She turned the book over to look at the cover. "Earthquake on Mars. It's absolutely terrible, but it's something to read. How are you feeling?"

Seth blinked slowly. His eyelids felt terribly heavy. For a moment, he let them slide shut. He wanted to tell her he was okay, that he was fine and she didn't have to worry, but when he finally managed to get his eyes open to tell her, she was gone.

In her place, sat Tripp. The small man leaned back in his chair, working on a sudoku puzzle book.

Seth squinted. "Where did she go?"

Tripp stilled, his eyes flicking towards him. "Welcome back, Seth."

"Thanks. Where's Mrs Beakor?"

"She was here yesterday," Tripp told him. He then chuckled. "She wasn't going to leave, but the nurses kicked her out. I think Hel gave one of them a black eye."

Yesterday? But hadn't he just seen her? That baffled Seth so much that he didn't register the rest of what Tripp had said.

The lack of response on his part had Tripp setting down his sudoku book. He gave Seth his full attention. "How are you doing, Seth?"

Seth wrinkled his nose. He felt fuzzy like before, but not as bad. His head still hurt, but it was bearable. His arm though, felt weird. Pins and needles prickled across its surface, and he got the sense that moving it right now was a very bad idea. Was it broken?

"I don't know," he finally answered. "What happened?"

Tripp stood and picked up a bottle of water from the little stand by the bed. He unscrewed the cap, stuck in a straw, and held it to Seth's lips.

"You don't remember?"

Gratefully, Seth accepted the water, taking a long drink before pulling away. "Not really."

"Hmm." Tripp set the bottle down. "Hel went to your apartment on Sunday with some food. You wouldn't come to the door. She thought you were out, but when she ah, went in to put the food in your fridge, she found you passed out on the floor."

Seth's mouth dropped open. "She broke into my apartment? Again?!"

Tripp stroked the thin gray mustache he had going on beneath his nose. "She found you unconscious, Seth. The doctors think you had a seizure in your sleep. A bad one. It looked like you threw yourself out of bed. You fractured two fingers, sprained your wrist, and got yourself a concussion. "

Stunned, Seth could only stare at his boss. A seizure? Is that what happened? He remembered Olen warning him, but he hadn't realized this whole thing would actually cause his brain to explode.

"You were in a coma for three days," Tripp said quietly.

Seth shivered, feeling cold and faint. This was far worse than he realized. An actual coma! He was awake now, though. He'd be okay, right?

Very cautiously, he moved his arm, only to immediately gasp as sharp pain stabbed through his left shoulder. It felt like someone had taken a scalpel to his flesh and slowly began tunneling their way to the bone. He grabbed at it with his good hand, finding no scalpel, no wound, but the slightest pressure of his fingers seemed to light a fire under his skin. Hot tendrils licked down his arm from the shoulder, turning the entire limb into a bundle of screaming nerves.

Hissing through clenched teeth, he let his good hand flop to the bed. That spot on his arm... Suddenly, he had a terrifying idea as to why his shoulder hurt so much.

"Seth?" Tripp was suddenly at his side, reaching out but not quite touching, as if worried to cause any further harm. "What's wrong?"

Everything, Seth thought, but he didn't want to worry his boss any further than he already had.

"It's fine," he gritted out the words. He lay stiffly, trying not to move a single inch.

Tripp grasped Seth's arm just above the elbow and right below the sleeve of the hospital gown.

"Agh!" Seth nearly rocketed off the bed. He tried pulling his arm away, but Tripp's hold was like an iron vise. His boss didn't tighten his grip either, but somehow maintained a gentle hold without giving a single inch.

When Seth flopped back, pale and trembling, Tripp said calmly, "No, you're not fine. Apart from the injuries mentioned earlier, the doctor found nothing else wrong. So this," he pushed up the sleeve of the gown to reveal Seth's shoulder, "Is... a tattoo? It doesn't look new. When did you get it?"

Seth swallowed, his belly churning badly enough that he felt like he might vomit any second. "What—what does it look like?"

That was probably not the best thing to ask, because the concern in Tripp's steady gaze instantly multiplied by a thousand. "You don't know? Seth-"

"I know!" Seth blurted, because he had a very good idea, but he needed confirmation. He had to know if this was real. He had to know how terrified he should be, though he was doing great on that side of things already. "I just ah, forgot?"

He propped himself up and strained to see for himself. The movement brought fresh waves of pain, but he had to see.

A center swirl. Five leaf-like spokes, with four of them side by side while the fifth lay opposite them. It was almost a stylized, unbalanced star etched into his skin with the blackest of ink.

Five spokes. Five Gifts.

All in one mark that brought waves of agony.

What the hell is happening?

His strength left him, vanishing like a wisp of smoke. He collapsed onto the bed with a stifled grunt, eyes watering.

Tripp's presence was forgotten. The room, with its sterile scent and sharp white lights, faded away. There was only the pain. And the realization: this was real.

This was real.

It terrified him. He could have pretended it was just a coincidence before, but this mark was an exact copy of what he'd have in Eliona on his Severance character.

"Seth." A hand touched his forehead, brushing back sweat soaked hair. "Look at me, please."

His eyes flickered to Tripp, who hovered over him. The man smiled briefly, probably to reassure him.

"It's alright. We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. Just know that we're here to help if you need it. Okay?"

Seth blinked, both grateful and confused. The change in Tripp's manner was too sudden.

"Also, the hospital staff tracked down your family's contact information." Tripp paused to let that sink in, then added, "There's a strong possibility that your family may show up here."

As if this whole thing couldn't get any worse. They were the last people on earth that he wanted to see. His mother and his sister! He could only imagine their response to finding him in the hospital.

Seth tried to sit up, gritting his teeth against the wave of pain radiating from his arm. The rest of his body reacted sluggishly like it was moving through a mountain of mud.

"Seth!" Tripp reached out to stop him. "What are you doing? You shouldn't be moving."

Seth flopped back, silently resenting how weak he felt. "I don't want to see them."

"I understand. But you can't just get up and leave. Not until you're cleared by the doctor." His boss met his gaze, and winked of all things. "Though I'm sure Hel would be happy to sneak you out."

"I wish she would," Seth muttered. He tried not to wince as fire ravaged his shoulder. "Though maybe after I get some more drugs."

With a quiet chuckle, Tripp went to the door. "I'll see what I can do. The nurse's station shouldn't be too far away."

Once the smaller man left, Seth let out a shaky sigh. He covered his eyes with his right arm and lay still and silent, though his guts churned and he wanted to puke and cry and curl up into a ball. Holding it together in front of Tripp had been very hard, and now that his boss had stepped out, Seth felt the walls begin to crumble.

He let the tears come, let his breath hitch in in silent cries, and gasped when the clan marking spiked into agony. For a few minutes, he broke down.

And then he remembered what this was all for. It helped fight the hurt and the fear, giving him the strength to endure just a bit longer. He chose to do this. He could do this. No matter what happened to him here, in his world, he'd survive and push on so he could help the others in their world.

That was his purpose.

When Tripp returned with a nurse in tow, Seth had regained his composure.

The nurse brought a new bag of saline mixed with whatever drugs they were giving him, and she switched it out with the depleted one hooked to his IV line. She asked a few questions about how he was feeling. Seth told her, leaving out the ache in his arm. That got a disapproving look from Tripp, but his boss thankfully didn't interfere.

The nurse mentioned that Seth looked a lot better and speculated that as long as the doctor gave him the all clear, he might be discharged as early as tomorrow. That sounded absolutely fantastic to Seth. The less time he spent in this place, the better.

Visiting hours ended not long after that, so Tripp left with the promise that he'd be back tomorrow. That left Seth laying alone in his room, though it was a long time before sleep found him.

***

He woke in the middle of the night with a very full bladder. It should have been expected, really, but when Seth grasped his IV stand and shakily swung stiff legs over the side of the bed, he quickly discovered he had a whole different problem.

A big problem.

His legs wouldn't hold his weight. His feet failed to move the way he told them to. His knees twitched in different directions and his hips seemed like alien things, shifting off center and throwing off whatever balance he might have found. Crawling felt like he was in the midst of an earthquake, because when he told things to move, they twitched and jerked and spasmed, to the point he lay on the floor and wondered if he was going to seize all over again.

Eventually his bladder screamed at him to move before it emptied itself right then and there, so he dragged himself across the floor with his arms and pulled the IV stand along with him.

The stand came in handy when he had to pull himself onto the toilet. It was a herculean effort, one that left him panting, sweating and trembling, since moving his left arm made the stupid mark hurt even more. He had no choice, though. He had to pee and his arms were one of the only things left that still listened to him.

He sat huddled over once he finished his business, loath to move. If he'd thought Maun's gift was bad, then this was a thousand times worse.

At least it'll get better, he told himself. His thoughts wandered to the clan. Were they still waiting for him? It had been three days since he'd seen them. He hoped they hadn't given up on him.

And then he wondered about his family because Tripp said they'd been notified. The mere thought of their arrival made him feel shaky and ill. The best-case scenario would be that the journey out here was too much trouble and they wouldn't even bother.

It'll get better, he told himself, and leaned forward. He wrapped his arms around his knees and thought of Rasin, of Dhin, of Vast's soft fur.

It'll get better.