It seems, at first, that she knows what is happening. The feeling is familiar, like falling into a cold pool, like entering a place that is not her own. On the other side of the veil, however, is not the brightly-colored, confusing world from which Jessica Drew has come. It is the earthy, warm driveway and manicured front lawn that her father tended every summer. It is the cool grey brick side of her parents’ home where she’d spent countless evenings around a fire pit, listening to parents discuss summer plans while staring unashamedly at the cute boy from next door. It is a bright, clear West Texas night with the light of the city to one side and the far-off pop of troops down range coming in on the breeze. Though she’d been sitting in that barren, grey room for hours, she is standing now at the place where the grass and the sidewalk meet. Deep inside the house, she can see the orange light from the kitchen, can hear the unmistakable beat of modern country on KHEY and her mother’s happy, out-of-tune warble.

Her father is alone in the yard. He is perturbed, uncomfortable as he sits beside his fire pit in the spring breeze. He stares into the flames for long moments before shifting, moving to get more comfortable. There is something in his face that Jules recognizes, tiny alarm bells sounding in her mind. What is here that is out of place? Her father gets up and walks to the fence, peering over it. On the other side, there is a Uhaul and the movement of people from the back of it to a screen door that has been propped open. Jonathan stares at them in disapproval and offers no helping hand. It is unlike him not to rush forward and lift a heavy corner if someone is struggling. Jules can feel every blade of grass as she moves toward him.

“Dad?”

Jonathan continues to watch the new neighbors, not acknowledging her presence. Could she be dreaming? She doesn’t remember falling asleep, but there is an unknowable, invisible barrier between her and the man who helped to raise her. She can sense it without it ever making itself known. When she reaches out her hand, the universe molds around her movement and her father takes a few short steps further down the fence, unaware. If she steps closer, she can see the discomfort in his features. He adjusts his posture, rubs at his chest and his arm as if he has an ache that he can’t soothe. In an instant, she knows what is happening. She saw it at least a hundred times while working in the ER.

“Dad?” Frustratingly, he moves out of her reach again, this time leaning against the wood fence. He’s given up on the neighbors and his heart now has his full attention. Every time she tries to grab for him, he stumbles and slumps away, and she lets out a confused, terrified cry. Who is she but a person who can reach out and help someone? This mutation or gift has given her the ability to save people with her hands, and has taken away her hands in the moment she needs them the most.

Jonathan Draper slides down the fence, clutching at his chest, and Julianne screams. For a moment, the barrier shatters and her eyes meet her father’s. He sees with clarity for a moment. One brief moment. She can see his mouth forming the word, the question.

Puppy?

When she is back in the room, she blinks against the fluorescent lights. With a shielded glance around the room, she can tell that one or both of these agents have asked her questions or called her name. The panic beats in her throat like a second heartbeat, and she waits for one of them to move. When the man on the left smiles, she knows that she had not been dreaming, and she knows that she needs to get home.