There are depths in man that go to the lowest hell, and heights that reach the highest heaven, for are not both heaven and hell made out of him, everlasting miracle and mystery that he is.
Thomas Carlyle

~ ~ ~

There was a flash of bright light, and then – nothing. Nothing but grey. Not even darkness - just a vast and empty space inside my mind that was devoid of everything, an experience without qualia except for the passage of time. And there I remained, for what seemed like an eternity, until I was pulled towards a growing, bright light. When I reached it, I went past it, and beyond there was just darkness. And cold. Perhaps I was dead?

All I knew was that I needed to get out.

When I opened my eyes, I found myself in a dark place, ankle-deep in cold water. The ground below my feet was made from a metal grid, unsteady and sharp against my naked skin. It was just below the surface of the pitch black water that expanded all around me, as far as my eyes could see in the dim light that seemed to surround me, until it merged with the darkness in the distance.

"Hello?"

My voice sounded small and fragile in the dark void. There was no echo, and no response. Gradually, my eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, and I could make out something like a dim glow somewhere in the distance.

With nothing else to do, I figured I might as well head in that direction. Perhaps I could get out of the cold water before my feet froze off. So I began to walk on the unsteady ground. It seemed to tremble and swerve underneath my every step, but I moved forward - until I suddenly stepped onto nothing and lost my balance. With a shriek of surprise, I slipped, tumbled into the cold water and almost hit the back of my head on the treacherous flooring.

This is no floor, it's a catwalk, I realized, as I pulled myself out of the inky liquid, back on the metal grate that I had been treading on.

I began to shiver violently form the cold now. On all fours, I began to feel my way forward to the edge that I had dropped off. The path did not stop, it just took a sharp turn to the right here. Determined to stay on all fours for safety, I began to crawl along the path in the darkness, feeling my way forward with numb, trembling hands. The sharp edges of the grid cut into my hands and knees now, and I moved at an excruciatingly slow pace.

"I'd like to go back."

I heard my own voice, but I wasn't sure if it was really me who was speaking. Something was wrong about the sound of it.

"I don't like this. Can I go back? Please?"

My pleading fell on non-existent ears.

"I don't like this place. Take me back! Take me back, now!"

My voice grew louder and louder until I screamed the words out into the darkness. My heart began to pound painfully in my chest, and I wanted to curl up into a ball and cry. I wanted to give up, and go back to the Grey, where at least there was no pain and no feeling of loneliness.

That was when I heard the piano. Faintly, softly, the music seemed to course through the air and past me, like petals of a flower carried by a soft wind. The sound soothed my pain and filled me with a blissful warmth, and it made my heart jump with joy.

It must be here somewhere, I thought, and scrambled to my feet. There, up ahead, where that light is coming from. It must be there.

And I began to run.

~ ~ ~

I tried to open my eyes, move my body, make myself known in any way, but I couldn't feel anything. For a moment I thought I was able to see – two people bent over me, their faces blurred and as unfamiliar as their voices. And behind them, the dark night sky illuminated by a thousand sparkling lights, just before my eyes closed again and I couldn't will them open anymore. It was like my mind was floating in the Grey, and other than the passage of time and the voices, there was nothing to remind me that I still existed.

Who are these people? What is going on?

I didn't get to ask my questions, before I drifted back into unconsciousness.

When I awoke the next time, I finally had enough control over my body to open my eyes, but I immediately regretted doing that, as I was greeted with painfully harsh lights. I groaned in pain and squeezed my eyelids shut again.

"Oh, you're awake," one of the voices from before said. It was a soft and kind voice.

I turned my head a little, and hesitantly dared to open my eyes once more, barely enough to see anything. Slowly, a face came into focus. A face with a curious expression, framed by tousled hair in an unnatural, silver-white color.

"How do you feel?"

"I... feel. That's a start, I think," I muttered with a heavy tongue, and waited for my eyes to focus on him and adapt to the brightness.

"Are you another nurse?"

He laughed at my question. The sound of his voice evoked the image of a dark velvet curtain in my mind somehow.

"Good grief, no, I'm not a nurse. Why would you think-"

"The accident," I remembered. "With the suit. Was the concussion that bad after all?" I asked.

"No, you ... wait, what? Accident?"

Why does this guy sound even more confused than me? I wondered.

My eyes gradually grew accustomed to the bright light and I could finally get a better look at my surroundings. This was definitely not the infirmary. Instead, I found myself in a rather spacious room. It looked almost like a small apartment, furnished with the large bed that I was lying in, with the stranger sitting at the edge, a couch at the far end, a writing desk and chair and some empty shelves. Everything inside the room from walls and floor to furniture was bright white, except for the window panels on one of the walls. Outside, there was nothing but pitch black darkness. It was as if the night had swallowed all the city lights. I furrowed my brow in confusion. Nowhere in Pharos would you find any place that was so dark, except for the Shadow City perhaps. But how had I ended up here?

I rubbed my palms against my eyelids in an effort to make the strain of the glaring light in this room more bearable. When I looked back at the stranger, he looked back at me with an expression that reflected my own confusion.

"Yes... the accident. Is this a hospital?" I asked him.

He didn't answer, he just slowly shook his head. The bewildered look on his face waned for a moment, and gave way to a profound sadness. Something was wrong. Unease gripped hold of me, like an icy hand twisting my guts into a knot, and then the feeling escalated into a full-blown rush of panic.

"Where am I? Who are you? How did I get here?"

I tried to ask the first three questions that came to my mind, but it seemed like my tongue was not yet fully awake, so my words came out as a single, incoherent flood. With the rest of my body also still only half-obeying my commands I tried to prop myself up and scramble to the far side of the bed, away from the stranger. I could see his face more clearly now, and he had his eyes fixed on me.

The way he looked at me caused me to freeze in my motion, and my panic and dread was replaced by bewildered fascination. His eyes were just as strange as his white hair – they were both blue and green, as if an artist couldn't decide which of the two colors to pick to paint him, so they had combined them in a swirl. I had never seen anything like it, but it evoked a strange feeling of familiarity, like a déjà-vu. It reminded me of something that I couldn't quite place. Together with his pale skin, his eye and hair color gave him an otherworldly, ghostly look - he certainly had an impossible beauty about him. The sharp angles and straight edges of his nose and jawline, and his high cheekbones combined with soft lips and long lashes gave him a rather androgynous look. It was the kind of face you would describe as beautiful rather than handsome. I concluded that he had most probably either been blessed with extensively engineered genes, or a fortune to spend on plastic surgery.

"Who are you?" I repeated the most urgent of my questions.

"I'm – my name is Cloud. And you – you mean you remember... something? An accident?" he asked. "From before?"

"I don't think I hit my head that hard that I imagined that, did I?" I raised my eyebrows at him. "The other nurse told me the concussion was not very bad, and I can remember everything... just not how I ended up here."

I gestured at the strange room I had found myself in.

"I told you, I'm not a nurse," he insisted and raised his hands in a defensive gesture, "Sorry, this must all be terribly confusing for you. I don't know how to tell you this – ah, I'm really not the right person..."

He ran a hand through his silver hair and sighed in exasperation. His reluctance to give me a straight answer made me wary of him.

"Just tell me what is going on," I demanded, willing some confidence into my voice.

I had to stay focused, even in the face of uncertainty – no matter how beautiful that face may have been. That was what being a Ker was all about, after all. Being prepared for anything, anytime. I tensed up, and observed every move the stranger made very carefully now. He seemed uneasy, but not dangerous. Still, I mentally prepared myself to the worst case.

Taller than me, at least five-ten or so, I assessed my potential opponent. Probably able to take a hit or two before going down. Likely stronger than me, physically, but I'm fast. I could take him by surprise. If I only I could move my damned body!

He visibly searched for words as I continued to scrutinize him and ponder ways to beat him in a fight without having to use my numb legs. I could let him make the first move, wait for him to come closer, and then knock him out-

"I'm very sorry," he finally said, interrupting my thoughts. "I think you might be... this is... well...oh, this is awkward."

"Awkward? This is bullshit." I lost my temper and yelled at him. "Just tell me! Where the hell are we?"

"Actually, that's... exactly where we are," he said quietly, and met my angry glare with a serious look on his enigmatic face.

"We are in hell."

For a few seconds, I just stared at him blankly in anticipation of some sort of punchline. He jut met my gaze with a deadpan expression. I blinked. He didn't go on. Apparently, there was no punchline. I laughed out loud anyway.

"In hell? So I am dead, is that what you're trying to tell me? Died in my sleep? And you're supposed to be the devil, or what?" I scoffed and eyed him up and down again.

Even his clothes were all in white. They were matching, like a uniform of sorts, albeit one that I had never seen before. He really didn't seem to be a nurse, but who the hell was he? Cloud, if that was even his real name, just looked at me with profound consternation written all over his face, and sadness in his blue-green eyes. If this was some sort of prank, he was a damn good actor, whoever he really was.

"Very funny. I'm not buying it," I said drily. "And I'll be taking my leave now."

I tried to swing my legs over the edge of the bed to get up, but they were still too weak to hold my weight, so I keeled over backwards again.

How long I have I been unconscious? Have I been in a coma? Are my muscles degenerated?

Staring up at the bright white ceiling of the room I pondered my situation. I touched my rib cage – the bruise from the accident was gone, or at least had stopped hurting. And as I furrowed my brow, I couldn't feel the cut on my temple that the nurse had patched up with tissue glue.

How long do these things take to heal? I wondered. Days, perhaps? A week? But why did they keep me hospitalized?  Why was I asleep? Or perhaps this place is-

"The likeliest explanation for all this is that I'm in an asylum and they gave me some drugs," I explained, more to myself than to him. "So either you're a hallucination, or you're just a fellow crazy person."

Still lying on the bed, I turned to look at him again, and narrowed my eyes at him warily. He just smirked back at me.

"A hallucination, huh? I think you should rest some more. You were... in a rough shape when you got here."

"When was that?"

"About two days ago. You've been sleeping since."

"Just two days? That can't be..." I muttered, and touched my temple pensively. The cut there was completely gone. Not just healed by tissue re-fusion. Gone, completely and without any trace.

"You woke up a couple of times, and seemed to scream, but there was no sound... Glad to hear your voice is okay after all," he went on. "Most of us had similar nightmares when we first arrived here. They will pass eventually."

Not quite processing anything else he had said, I turned my head a bit further to look past him. As I stared out of the window – or rather, at the window – I realized that the world outside could have ended in those two days, and I wouldn't have noticed it.

"What time is it? Why is it so dark outside?" I asked.

"That's... not the outside. They're always black like that," he explained, looking over his shoulder and following my gaze. "Like I said..."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm in hell, whatever that's supposed to mean," I waved my hands dismissively.

I scrambled back up into a sitting position and rubbed a hand over my face. I still felt infinitely tired and exhausted, and had a hard time believing that I had slept for two days straight. But that was certainly not the most unbelievable thing he had told me.

"Frankly, I expected some more fire and sulfur pits and tortured souls screaming out in agony. Which circle is this supposed to be? The infernal resort?"

Looking around the room again, I found that it certainly looked like an Old World hotel room, like you would see it in old movies. Albeit this was a very bland one.

"It's not that kind of hell," he explained, a smile now gracing his lips. "But... well, we call this place Tartaros."

Tartaros, like in that Old World myth? I thought, raising both of my eyebrows again. Almost nobody reads that stuff any longer, why would they name a place after it? None of this makes any sense.

I eyed the strange man skeptically.  "And who are you supposed to be, then? My personal torture? So, basically, after a life filled with unanswered questions, I get to be tortured by a guy refusing to give me straight answers, for all eternity?" I threw my hands up in frustration. "So Sartre was right, hell is other people."

He had opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again and blinked at me in surprise.

"You've read Sartre?"

There was genuine surprise in his voice, and he regarded me with great curiosity now. He had raised one eyebrow over his strange blue-green eyes. Truly, the number of people who had read the classics of the Old World after it had gone down in a spectacular blaze of destruction and stupidity was perhaps even lower than the number of people who read old myths. It had something to do with our science and philosophy being regarded as superior over anything that the people of old, who had after all, wrecked the planet, had come up with. It wasn't exactly forbidden knowledge, but frowned upon to discuss such things.

But it really wasn't such a great accomplishment to just know of Sartre's works that it warranted the look he gave me. And the longer he fixed me with that blue-green gaze so full of curiosity, the weirder it made me feel. Something hot and tingling rose to my head and covered my cheeks. It was like a thousand boiling bugs moving under my skin. It was weird. I shook my head to make the feeling go away.

"Whatever," I said gruffly, "I don't have time for this. I need to speak to whoever is in charge of this place."

I forced myself up onto my wobbly legs again. This time I was able to bear my own weight and remained upright.

"Just- wait a second. I really don't think you should be getting up yet," he said and jumped up next to me.

"I thought you were no nurse," I remarked, pushing him away as he came closer, "So skip the health care advice, will you. Or find me a real nurse, or a doctor. I need to get out of here."

A smug grin appeared on his face as I talked.

"What's so funny?" I grumbled.

"You." His smile widened. "How do you even intend to walk in your state?"

"Pff, I'm very serious," I pouted. "I'll just walk right out of here. You watch."

Shoving his outstretched hands out of my way again, I made another, uneasy step away from the bed. My body seemed to obey my orders at an agonizingly slow speed. And if that wasn't already frustrating enough, all that guy did was watch me and chuckle.

"Now you're just being rude," I noted.

"Once you get to know me, you'll realize that in fact, I have no manners whatsoever," he said, still smirking.

"Delightful," I replied drily, "Now why would that make me want to get to know you at all?"

"Oh, I have lots of other qualities."

I took another close look at him. He didn't seem to be a threat – he would have had plenty of opportunity to attack me if he had wanted to. He also didn't look like a crazy person, but who was I to judge that? At the very least, he seemed very real for a hallucination – especially considering the fact that he now stepped up next to me again and helped me stand straight. I allowed it, this time.

He looked pretty normal, except for the strange hair and eye color perhaps. Admittedly, he looked about an order of magnitude better than an average person. For a second, I felt that strange feeling of familiarity again as I looked at him, as if I recognized him from somewhere. But I would have remembered a face like his for sure. Because of this feeling, I was inclined to trust him, but my experience had also taught me that a pretty face could often hide cruel thoughts exceptionally well.

"You done staring at me?" he interrupted my train of thought.

"Uh, yeah," I mumbled, and averted my eyes in sudden embarrassment. "And now it's time for me to go."

But I couldn't. I tried to take a step forward, but my body felt like jelly from my waist down.

"You really shouldn't..." he tried to hold me back, but not with near enough force, so I stumbled away awkwardly. I ended up leaning against the wall, barely holding myself on my feet now.

"I'm gonna do this with or without your help, hallucination. What will it be?" I grumbled, in growing annoyance at my own feeble state.

"You still believe I am a hallucination?" There was a mixture of amusement and offense in his voice.

"You have to admit, it is at least as plausible as you being the devil."

"Or a nurse?"

"You're too mean for a nurse."

As if to prove me wrong, without another word, he draped my arm over his shoulders and slipped his own around my waist, and helped me to walk to the door. When I stole glance at his face from the side, I found him wearing that smirk again, and he was shaking his head slightly.

Outside of the room, I had expected to find myself in a corridor, or at least something resembling a hospital ward. Instead, we had stepped into a large, circular room at least ten meters across, with its walls lined with various doors. Arching high above us, there was a domed ceiling so dark that on first glance I thought it was the night sky. Myriads of tiny silver lights of various sizes were blinking and glistening above us, like diamonds poured out over black velvet. Only on second glance did I realize that the lights were actually tiny lamps embedded in the domed ceiling high above. Nonetheless, the sight of the artificial sky was breathtakingly beautiful. While I marveled at the sight I wondered why anybody would build such a room in a hospital. Or hell, for that matter.

"Welcome to Tartaros", he whispered close to my ear, and his words caused a shiver to descend along my spine.

I stared up at the dome in awe and confusion.

"I have been here before... seen this before," I realized.

"Yes,. So you remember when you first woke up here?"

I nodded slowly, and dragged my gaze away from the lights with considerable effort to look at him. In the dim artificial starlight, the blue and green in his eyes mingled into a dark teal, like two glimpses at a dark and boundless ocean. He gently let go of me, but didn't step away too far when he noticed that my legs were still weak and unsteady, and just looked down at me with an unreadable expression. For a moment, neither of us spoke, and as we stared at each other, I felt as if I was on the verge of remembering something very important.

But the feeling passed, and I was left feeling as lost and confused as before.

"But why am I here?" I asked quietly, "What kind of strange hospital is this?"

"Like I said... this is not a hospital, that's for sure."

"An asylum then? Am I crazy?"

All the whiteness of the room I had woken up in reminded me of Old World images of those places, where the earliest advances in emotional reprogramming had been made. But why would they leave a fellow inmate in my room to wait until I wake up?

He shrugged. "Maybe... we're all a little bit mad here."

I raised my eyebrows in surprise, and for a moment I thought I hadn't heard right. His words were almost like a quote from an Old World story. It was one of my favorites, ever since I had stumbled upon it as a child. Perhaps it was a coincidence. But when our gazes met again, for a split second, I felt absolutely certain that we were thinking the same.

"I'm mad," he continued slowly, "You're mad."

"How do you know I'm mad?" I quoted back.

His lips curled upward into a mischievous grin, like that of the character whose words he was reciting.

"You must be," he said, "Or you wouldn't have come here".

And in that moment, I knew that he was right, and he wasn't just quoting from a story any longer. A feeling of dread overcame me at the thought - what else of the things that he had said were true? Was I really dead? Was this really hell? I still had so many questions, I didn't even know where to begin. I opened my mouth to speak, to say something, anything - but I found that my voice was gone. My sight began to blur, and I felt very dizzy all of a sudden.

"Oh-Okay, this was a very bad idea. I should probably get you back-" He took a quick step toward me and put his arms around me again, just in time to keep me from falling as my legs gave in.

"Cloud! What are you doing?" An agitated voice echoed through the room.

I recognized it from before, when I had first awoken under that black sky with the fake stars. Through one of the doors, a middle-aged woman appeared. The fine curls of her dark hair were bouncing around her face as she hurried toward us.

"She shouldn't be up yet! Look at her! You should have called me right away when she woke up!" she scolded the man who was holding on to my limp body.

Cloud just looked at the woman, rather helplessly. As she bent over me, I could see her clearly from up close, despite my impaired vision. She had tawny skin and kind, dark brown eyes. But they were full of worry as she looked at me now, and put her hand against my cheek. It felt warm on my skin.

"Yes, I wanted to," Cloud said, "But...but Quill, you don't understand... she... I think she remembers!"

"She does what now?" the woman named Quill asked, and stared at him wide eyed.

I looked back and forth between the two strangers, as they were arguing quite literally over my head.

"Hello, I'm still right here," I reminded them in a small voice. "What's going on?"

Adding to the confusion, more people appeared before either of them could answer. I couldn't make out anybody clearly, as my vision had begun to go black. Quill had found her focus again and proceeded to order the other people around.

"Dia, get over here and help Cloud get her back to bed. Arrow, get me Bridge. Put her on watch duty instead."

"Who are you people? I don't need to be watched. I'm fine," I insisted, but even in my own ears, my voice sounded like I was drunk. I was not fine.

"You will be fine," Quill tried to reassure me. "Everything will be alright, you'll see."

Somehow, I didn't quite believe her, but I didn't get another chance to protest before I blacked out again.

____
A.N.
For the sake of completely crediting the herein cited works: "Hell is other people" ("L'enfer, c'est les autres") is taken from Jean Paul Sartre's play "No Exit"/"Huis Clos"
The dialogue about "being mad" is taken from Lewis Carroll's "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland".