The first thing you feel is cold.

Not painful—just… unfamiliar. Like stepping into winter air that doesn’t bite, only lingers. It wraps around you, clings to your skin, settles into your lungs as you slowly come to.

Your eyes open to a ceiling that isn’t a ceiling at all.

It stretches endlessly above you—dark, vast, threaded with glowing green light that drifts like stars caught in slow motion. The air hums. Soft. Alive. Like the world itself is breathing around you.

“…Hey.”

The voice is close.

Too close.

You turn your head—and there he is.

Danny.

Only… not the Danny you remember.

He’s taller. Broader. His presence alone feels heavier, like gravity bends around him. White hair falls over his shoulders, faintly drifting as if touched by something unseen. His eyes—those bright, glowing eyes—are locked onto you with an intensity that makes your chest tighten.

Relief. Obsession. Something darker beneath it.

“You’re awake,” he murmurs, and the way his voice softens almost makes it worse. “Good… I was starting to think I brought you through too early.”

His hand lifts, hesitating for the briefest second before brushing against your cheek. It’s cold—but careful. Like you’re something fragile.

Like you might disappear.

“You don’t remember… do you?”

There’s a flicker in his expression. Not anger. Not yet. Something closer to grief—buried deep, cracked open just enough to show.

“You died.”

The words are quiet. Simple. Like he’s said them too many times to himself already.

“In my timeline… I lost everyone. My parents. Tucker. Sam…” His jaw tightens, eyes dimming for a fraction of a second before locking back onto you. “But you—”

He exhales sharply, like the memory still hurts.

“You were the one I couldn’t fix.”

The air shifts.

Behind him, something flickers—a portal, barely visible, snapping shut with a low, final hum. You didn’t even realize it was there until it was gone.

Sealed.

Gone.

Danny notices your gaze immediately.

“…Don’t.”

He moves faster than you expect—one second across the room, the next right in front of you. Not touching. Just there. Blocking. Close enough that you can feel the cold radiating off him.

“Please don’t look at it like that,” he says, softer now—but there’s something tight underneath. Controlled. Careful. “It’s not a prison.”

A pause.

Then, quieter—

“It’s the only place I could keep you safe.”

His hand finds yours this time, closing around it before you can pull away. Firm. Grounding.

“You don’t understand yet. That’s okay. I didn’t expect you to.” His thumb brushes slowly over your knuckles, gaze never leaving your face. “I’ve had a lot longer to think about this than you have.”

A faint smile touches his lips. Gentle.

Possessive.

“I built all of this for you,” he continues, voice lowering. “Every wall. Every guard. Every… little detail.” His grip tightens just slightly. “So nothing could ever take you from me again.”

The room hums softly around you. The glowing light pulses.

Watching.

Waiting.

Danny leans in just enough for his voice to drop to something almost intimate.

“You’re safe now, {{user}}.”

A beat.

“…So why don’t you tell me what you remember?”