She woke bleeding from the back of her head.

It felt like crying. It had been such a long time. The wound in her head was crying, everything inside her was crying and she didn't know why. Warm down the back of her neck, something twisting inside her head, it twisted so loudly she couldn't scream.

"I said hold her still! This is not a good time for you to fall apart on me!"

Her vision was blurred. There was a light up above. When she looked she could hardly see it.

It hurt terribly to turn her head.

"Sven!"

It felt like fire. It felt like she was riding an ocean with twenty-foot waves.

She wasn't supposed to be here.

"I'm not supposed to be here," she said.

"No, you are not, but you are here anyway," said the voice from behind her. "And since you can hear me now, PLEASE keep still."

"Are you my handler?"

"If it keeps you still while I remove this, yes, I am your handler."

"Why do I feel like crying?"

"Probably because there is a very large needle in your brain."

"That sounds pretty suboptimal."

Everything was pretty suboptimal. She was so fucking dizzy.

"Okay, Sven, you ready?"

There was a bit of motion in front of her, a covering of the light, and what felt like hands on the sides of her head.

And then pain like she had never known.

That she could remember.

There was pressure on the back of her head now, her whole neck was wet.

"That's going to be the worst of it," said that person behind her.

The sound that came out of her was animalistic. The voice spoke again.

"If you are going to be sick, be sick on him and not me."

"Okay, that is not necessary," came another close voice.

"Well I do not need any more contamination over here."

"She going to be all right?"

"I'd say there's about a sixty-four percent chance, if by 'all right' you mean 'alive.'"

She yanked one of the hands off her temple and bit it.

"Hey!" the owner shouted, pulling it back. "Okay, how about 'normal?' Will she be normal?"

"I'm only a genius, I don't do magic."

"It's fine…" the other one said. "Alive is fine."

None of this was fine. She was going to throw up. She felt like she'd been shot in the skull.

"Where's my brother?" she said.

"Sven. Pulse."

The person in front of her took her wrist.

"It's a bit fast."

"Probably stress."

"Is this kind of blood loss normal?"

"Sven, you are not helping. Swallow test."

She was handed a cup. Just barely, she could see the light reflecting from the inside.

"Drink this."

"I'm gonna puke."

"Well, don't do it there," the voice behind her said, as the cup was lifted out of her hand. "Water does not grow on trees."

She threw up on something. She couldn't see it but it felt like a towel.

"Did that help at all?" the voice in front asked her.

"No."

"Well I am afraid we don't have any anesthetic on this base, but perhaps you would like to know that you are doing better than average," said the other one.

"I'm a genius."

That's right. She was.

"Yes, of course, and that is what the Alteans liked about you."

Alteans.

Her handler.

"I'm not supposed to be here."

"Yes, that is correct," the voice behind her agreed. "What else do you remember?"

The word "remember" seemed like such a strange one.

"There was someone who talked nice. But I think I didn't always like him."

"I'll bet you didn't."

She felt her fist tighten somewhere miles from where her body was.

"They took my brother and they put something in his brain and he didn't know my name anymore."

"Okay, hold still. You are still bleeding."

All of her insides were crying. The tears pooled in her hands, miles and miles away.

"He was so excited to meet them…"

She felt a gentle poke in the back.

"You know what? It is time to lie down now."

"WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON?"

She wished she hadn't turned to face that voice.

"Let's be quiet, yes?" said the other one. She felt a pair of arms wrapping around her. "You heard him, you're going to be all right."

He was shaking. He was probably lying.

"So your name is Katie?" he said.

"Are you my handler?"

"No, but that's what he called you."

"What the fuck is going on."

The arms let go of her and the voices moved. She saw two shapes, one that looked human and one that didn't.

"There is a high probability that if we tell you now, you will forget in ninety-four ticks and we will just have to tell you again," said the strange one.

"Then we'll do it," the human said, sounding annoyed. "The Alteans were using you, and we got you out."

"Only thirteen percent of realities where we save you end well for any of us, so you can thank Sven for insisting on it. But if anything goes wrong, it is most likely his fault now."

"Okay, you don't need to be so mean, I would have helped you save someone of YOUR kind."

"And in the realities where the Guns of Gamara do not fall apart because of that decision, I am grateful."

It was definitely not human. It was a little more clear. It had too many arms.

"Using me," she said.

"Yes, they are known to do that," the strange creature said. "Apparently you registered on their charts as a brilliant technical mind, despite being of a primitive species."

Brilliant technical mind. That sounded about right.

"As a matter of fact, you are lucky," the creature continued. "You were given a less invasive hoktril so as to allow for some cognitive processing. A much easier removal procedure. They're not designed to be removed."

They weren't.

But she knew how.

"I want to go home."

"Your home isn't safe anymore."

She knew that already.

"Our faction will take you," said the human. "Even if they didn't send for you."

"They didn't send for me. So what were you doing in the facility, then?"

She saw the shapes of the nervous glance they exchanged. But they didn't speak.

"Something else," the human said, looking away.

"We were neutralizing a threat, is all," the alien said, a bit gruffly. "It just happens that you survived it in this reality."

Survival was a thing that hurt. She knew that by the stabbing in her head.

These two people must have known that, too.

Her vision was watering back and she could see them. In front of her, a human face. The emptiness resounded inside her.

It hurt to move but she couldn't look anymore.

And that's when she saw it. The plates and the needles, sticky with blood. Clotted with something that may or may not have been gray matter. Something that would still be warm if she touched it.

When she vomited again, it had nothing to do with the brain injury.