(no subject)
John, get up. You need to get up.
"John, get up. You need to get up."
Johnjohnjohnjohnjohn... get upget upget upget up... you must... I need itbringittomeIneeditgetupJohngetup...
"John, can you hear me? You need to wake up, John."
He blinks his eyes open slowly. As his vision slowly swirls into view around him, he mumbles, "Did anyone get the license number of that Prowler that hit me?"
Then he sees who's standing over him. "...Dad?"
"Not quite, John," says his father. "I'm not your father. I'm the Ancient that tested you. And this isn't heaven, we're inside your memory."
He groans and sits up. "I remember... Scorpius. He was holding me, and..." he feels his neck, and looks up. "Why aren't I dead?"
The Ancient gently pushes John back onto the ground. "Don't go through too much exertion, John. You've been through quite a lot."
"Don't I know it. That bastard snapped my neck! Why aren't I dead?"
"We're not sure, John. We think it has something to do with the voice in your head."
Crichton blinks. "How-how did you know about that?"
"We're not real, John. All this is a construct from your memory of me, of this room, created by this Pensieve. You shouldn't even be able to interact with us at all, but there are greater forces at work here."
He pushes his 'father' off of him and scrambles to his feet. "You're messing with my mind again? I thought you already got what you needed!"
A new voice responds to this exclamation. "He ain't messing with your mind. That's just Scorpius's doing."
And the memory-Crichton steps into John's view.