Logan's vision seemed to cross for a moment, and he smiled weakly, letting himself fall back on the bed, albeit sideways. "Yeah," he said, "Maybe." The crickety old bed, the onbringer of countless bad backs, seemed like a cloud in heaven at the moment. Yeah, she didn't mean anything by that drawing. He didn't know what he was talking about. They didn't exist. Your consciousness could cook up anything when you're...
"I died while I was gone," he said quietly to the ceiling, unsure if she had even left. He didn't know where he was going or what he was trying to accomplish. The inside of his mouth tasted like rot, his saliva thick. He was a zombie. Why was he breathing, why was he breathing, why was he...?
He felt the pull of Jane from the infirmary, and the itch to plunge back into the darkness grew colder. If he could dive back in and grab her hand...
"I'm just tired, is all."