When her eyes open, she nearly gets blinded by a light.

So she closes again, groaning.

And then she opens them again.

But the light is too bright, so she's forced to close them a second time.

Just like that, it goes on and on.

𓆙

It feels like it has been forever since the first time her eyes opened. Now she is finally able to look without pain, so she takes the immediate opportunity to sit straight up.

She's in a hut that reminds her of Gally's hut back in the Glade. As boring, but with more medical things. And next to the bed she's on, stands a chair.

He's on the chair, asleep.

With his eyes closed and soft breaths leaving his mouth, he's really just a teenage boy who's done nothing wrong.

She finds herself staring for longer than she wanted. When she catches herself, it's too late; his eyes have opened, too.

"Joan?!" His back straightens fast, eyes wide. "Oh my God— you're awake! Finally— how are you feeling?"

"I think I'm good—"

"Wait, no. I'm angry," he interrupts. "I'm angry at you." His expression does change a bit. "What the hell? You stabbed yourself! You could've died! You died! Or well, the clone, but still—"

She gasps as the memories come back. "So it worked? I'm back in my own body and it was a clone the whole time?"

"Yes, but that stab—"

"Ha, it worked!" She somewhat starts laughing.

He stares at her with an absurd face, frowning. "It's not funny, Joan! Serious things happened, you apparently were a clone— I showered with a clone, I operated a clone, I did things with a freaking clone—"

"At least my mentality was there."

"Your mentality never really was anywhere."

"Oh!" She gasps another time. "Rude!"

He purses his lips together. "Yes! I'm still angry. I'll stand my ground. And nothing will work this time."

"And for how long will you stay angry?"

He ignores her question because of the urge to ask one himself, "Just tell me how you're feeling."

She only now realizes she feels quite good. Her body doesn't hurt from any needles and even though she senses she's weak, she feels... better. More like herself.

"Good," she replies. "I feel good. And you know what? You have no right to be angry. I got a plan, I handled, and it worked."

He mumbles something she can't understand.

"And guess what else? I was right. As always. It worked, as always."

He rolls his eyes.

"You know what else?"

He groans.

"Gally?" She urges, looking down at her shirt. It's so big that it reveals one of her shoulders. "You know what else?"

"What?" He snaps.

A grin forms on the girl's face. "Look! They let water tank, AKA the real Joan, keep the navy blue on—"

"Oh my God." Gally jumps off the chair. "You are absolutely insane."

"You should've thought of that before you started dating me. Besides, doesn't the color make you happy? Can we paint our walls navy blue, by the way? And sage green with flowers? It has to match. Oh! And Chuck is here! And Camil can walk so we can do the pranks without all the risk with his wheelchair!"

Slowly, he sits back down and watches the girl rant as if she wasn't just out of multiple days. It's nice, if he has to be honest. This is the Joan who was in the Glade. This is the girl he originally fell for. The prankster. Yapper. The funny one.

Clone Joan had her things, but he prefers this. Over anything.

"Hey, I just remembered," she then starts, "you say you'd build us a house here."

"Right."

"Okay, you don't sound unmotivated. Good!" She jumps up. Flexes her muscles, walks around a bit, and figures out she's less fit, but for sure alright, even after she was in a water tank for multiple months. WCKD must've had their ways of keeping her alright. Her skin color is a bit paler than usually, but that's it.

"Come on." Suddenly excited, she pulls his arm.

"How are you this energetic after waking up from a freaking coma?"

"I don't know. I just am. Because I got a great idea. We go house hunting. Well, no, not really. We check places on this island of the Safe Haven out, look where we want that house built, and get it."

He manages a smile at that. "There's woods and a beach. We can place it at the edge of the woods so we see the beach."

"Ooh! Good idea." She almost makes a jump. "Looks like you finally got some taste, Gally!"

"I had taste when I decided to start dating you."

"True," she confirms. "Okay, come on. Let's go for the walk. I'll greet the others later on."

"Stop."

She doesn't, but her eyebrows do lift. "What?"

"We're not going to walk before you give me a proper hug."

Scoffing, Joan walks over to him, and wraps her arms around his torso. Her cheek presses onto his shirt. Her eyes close automatically.

"You're lucky I didn't go with the nickname Little One."

"I said, shut the hell up about my height." She lets go of him with a push. "Giant. Yeah! That's my nickname for you. Finally got one."

He rolls his eyes. Best choice is to not start the war and let her be, he has learned, so he just follows her as she starts walking again.

"Hey, woman?" He asks by the time they're on the beach.

She kicks some sand into the distance, but it flies back because of the wind and lands in her face, which she groans at. "Yeah?"

"Do you still think kids are little rats?"

"Yes. And men are, too. Why?"

"No reason."

She continues hopping around the place, happy. After all, many of her friends survived. She'll always remember Alby and Winston, and she'll be proud of giving Newt the cure (and figuring it out), and hopefully she'll become closer friends with Brenda and Teresa.

"What's your favorite number?"

"Four. Why?"

"Just wanted to know another fact about you."

She hums, pointing at the left. "There. Our house is gonna be there. It's gonna be a modern one. White walls, black furniture. There's a giant ass window, basically a whole wall, that gives us sight of the beach. We're gonna have a big kitchen counter, a main bathroom and our own bathroom, a bedroom with navy blue walls, and we'll put flowers all over the house.

"We get some walls old pink so we have some color in it."

"How many bedrooms?" 

"Why?"

"Need to know before I build it."

"Two. One for us, and one for guests."

"I'll build six just in case."

"Great. That's Thomas, Newt, Teresa, Brenda, Fry, Jeff, Minho, Camil— no, we need more bedrooms! Can we get a pet?"

He lets out a sigh, but not in annoyance. "What would you like?"

"A dog."

"Where do you want to get a dog, woman?"

"You'll manage to get me a dog somewhere, won't you?"

"Whatever you want."

The girl grins. "I knew I could rely on you!" She says dramatically, then laughs. "No, what pet would you like?"

"I don't know."

"You'd like a cat, won't you? Ohh, we should bound a low fence around the house so the pets can't escape and drown and everything. We need a garden with a lot of flowers and my plants and herbs and can we please get a room for my chemistry projects? I promise I won't blow any walls up!"

"Don't make promises you can't keep."

"Yeah, alright." She lowers her shoulders. "But can we get all that?"

"I recall saying 'whatever the woman wants, whatever the woman gets', so fine. Whatever."

Now even more excited, she jumps to hug him another time. "Yes! I can't wait. It's gonna take longer than building my hut, isn't it? Well, I'll help. And Camil can make up for ditching years of walking by helping, too. And I'll beg Vince. He'll have to obey to his long lost daughter. And I'll tell Teresa I'll only forgive her if she helps building our house."

Shaking his head at the loud, shared thoughts, he smiles.

"Do you think you'll accidentally blow Chuck, or any kid, up with your chemicals?"

"No. Poor kids. I won't do that, either. Why?"

"No reason."

At some point, she stops walking, and the realization gets through her head. "You want kids, don't you? You want four now you know it's my lucky number. That's why you want six bedrooms. You'll get us a fence so those kids won't walk away. And you're rethinking all of that because you know I blow things up. Sometimes."

He remains silent for a few seconds. "I should stop forgetting how smart you are."

She cracks a smile.

"Well, though?"

"Well?"

"Is it worth a thought?"

"Ew, no. I'm eighteen. That's not on my mind right now."

"Place yourself around your twenties or thirties. Any thoughts?"

"Let's see... four is a lot. I somewhat still have the same personality as a little kid. I'm not grown up enough to think about kids, who are little rats, as I said."

"Okay, you've got some points."

"Hey! You were supposed to reassure that I am grown up."

"But you're not."

She holds up her middle finger.