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Johnny wakes up with an incredible pain in his head and tears in his eyes.
It’s bright, wherever he is, which makes the throbbing headache stomp even harder on his brain. It doesn’t sting, only aches.
“That was quite the rocky ride, wasn't it?”
He immediately sits up, eyes widening at the sound of that voice. That can’t be what he heard, there’s no way on Earth that voice was speaking to him. A figment of his imagination, a product of his frenzied state. But, upon closer inspection, he’s not where he once was: nowhere near his wife or son. It begins to click.
“Behind you, Johnny.”
He feels tense as his head slowly turns to the side.
“Gyro.”
The name is spoken akin to a wheeze, dry and almost unintelligible as it hangs in the air between the two. He’s standing tall, as he always did, one hand adjusting his hat as the other is placed on his hip. His false teeth scatter the light. It is him. It is Gyro. He’s standing right there, in front of him, despite what happened ten years prior. He feels the pit of his stomach give out, a strange mixture of joy, amazement, and incredible sadness and realization washing over him all at once. He stands. For the first time in a long while, it is difficult, “I’m dead.”
“That’s not much of a greeting to an old friend, Johnny,” Gyro’s face is suddenly solemn, despite the attempt at a joke, “Yes, you’re dead.”
“I—Is George--?”
“Do you see him?” Gyro motioned around them. They were alone in the white expanse.
Johnny shook his head. Gyro offered another smile, albeit smaller, “He’s fine. As fine as he can be, I guess,” there was a pause, and a low whistle rang from his lips, “I guess I’m not good at this welcome wagon shit, huh?”
“No. You’re actually—You’re really bad at it,” Johnny mumbled, closing his eyes as he tried to will the jelly from his legs. That was it. He was gone. And while the confirmation of George and Rina’s safety was a reason for joy… Nausea still lurked inside him, “I am still… I’m glad to see you. I’m really glad to see you. This is just…”
“A lot to take in. Trust me,” Gyro stretched a little before crossing both arms in front of his torso, raising his brows, “I know all about that. Ten years and I’m still reeling. Not gonna lie to you, Johnny: I can’t say it’ll immediately get easier or anything,” a small shrug, “but good company helps.”
A short sniff of laughter, “I take it back. You’re not bad at this: you’re fucking terrible.”
Gyro stepped closer, grinning again, “Hey, I already admitted that much! Don’t rub it in, okay?” a loud thump on Johnny’s back as Gyro laughed, “I just don’t want you freaking out up here. You can see them, you know?” there was a hand reassuringly gripping Johnny’s shoulder, “They’ll get through this. You’ll get through this, I know you will.”
Johnny sighed, albeit shakily as he gulped, “Yeah. Whatever you say. Wait—I can see them?”
“Yeah. If you want to know, I can show you how. Actually, before that... There’s someone I want you to see. I think it might help, just a little,” a short pause, “You probably don’t want to see your body right now, anyway. Let me tell you, not a pretty sight right now,” Gyro murmured.
“Uh. Well,” Johnny clicked his tongue, slightly worried, “Okay. I guess I’ll trust you on this, being my Senior in Death—“
“I’m your Senior in general, Johnny.”
“Bullshit. I’m older than you, now. Anyway, I’ll trust you on this. Who do you want me to meet?” Gyro grinned again, but this time, it was as wide as Johnny ever saw it.
He saw a brunette, tall and warm and familiar, in the distance. He could count the spikes in his hair.