Jack already knew he wasn't going to get much sleep that night.

It wasn't that he didn't want to rest. In fact, he had a feeling that a good night's sleep would actually help him a lot. It would take his mind off what had happened for awhile, and then allow him to come back to it all the next morning when his brain could properly handle everything.

The real problem was that Jack knew his brain wouldn't shut up long enough for him to do that.

Even though he'd been home for several hours now, his mind was still racing from all that had happened, everything playing out over and over again. The truck, the pain, Casey, the absolute impossibility of the situation. The entire day played on loop in his head, like a movie, and it was as if Jack had misplaced the remote to stop it.

And this was all with the distractions that came about during waking hours. Phone calls, conversations, video games, movies. None of these things could set Jack's mind at ease. Sure, they'd make it so that the events from earlier weren't his primary focus anymore, but the memories and toughts would still be there. Circling and circling, repeating and repeating.

If the thoughts in his head were this loud even with all of the things that would normally occupy his attention, then Jack knew they would only grow louder once the rest of his world fell silent.

"Are you going to bed soon?" Signe asked him, causing Jack to look up from his phone at her.

"I don't think so," He replied with a shake of his head. "I don't really feel tired, so I'll just end up staring at the ceiling until three in the morning."

Signe's lips were set in a grim line upon hearing Jack's answer. She tried to keep a straight face and not let her worry show, but Jack could see her subtly wringing her hands in an anxious manner.

"Okay," She replied, a nervous lilt to her tone. "Well, I'm gonna go get some sleep, so if anything bad happens I'll be upstairs. Please don't stay up all night."

"As much as I'm tempted to, I won't," Jack replied with a smile. He didn't want Signe to worry about him too much, so putting on a smile and keeping his weird train of thought hidden seemed like a good option right now. There was a part of him that really wanted to tell Signe what was going on inside his head, and about the grusome events he remembered from that day, but that part of him was overruled by his desire to keep her at ease. He didn't want to make anybody panic over something like this.

Signe smiled back, though it looked rather forced, before she left the room and made her way upstairs. Jack listened to the sound of her feet carefully moving up each and every step, the sound of her footsteps on the stairs so familiar that he'd be able to recognize them without even seeing their owner. It was comforting, for a moment.

And then he was left alone.

Jack carefully placed his phone down on the table in front of him with a small exhale of discontent. It wasn't so much of a sigh, but rather a minute and unconscious display of emotions. One that even Jack wasn't aware of.

Today was weird, he thought to himself. Very, very weird.

An obvious remark, but one that was still valid nonetheless.

Now that he'd put down his last distraction, Jack allowed himself to stop and ponder it all for a moment, thinking that maybe if he allowed himself to let all of these thoughts run their course his brain would finally shut up.

He supposed things would return to normal after this. Or they should, at least. He hadn't experienced any more weird symptoms since right after the accident, which was a relief, and still felt physically fine. Like nothing had ever happened in the first place. He'd probably have to go back to the hospital so the doctors could perform some checkups, but that would most likely only be for a short while. If they couldn't hold him there when nothing was physically wrong, then certainly they couldn't keep calling him back for checkups if they were just as unnecessary.

But as for his memories, Jack still wasn't sure why he recalled things the way he did. He began to feel like he wouldn't ever know why his mind had a distinct recollection of being hit by a truck, and whilst that was upsetting, there wasn't much he could do about it. The tests had already been run, and his brain was perfectly intact, meaning there was no diagnosis and treatment that could help him understand where the memory came from. The most logical conclusion one could come to was that he made it up.

Maybe that was another reason why the troubled man didn't want to mention that memory to anyone. Especially Signe. Because despite how certain he'd once been of the event's legitimacy before, Jack was beginning to have some strong doubts about whether or not it actually happened.

Maybe he really had imagined it.

Breaking out of the mental crisis he was currently having, Jack physically shook his head, as if trying to shake away all of the conflicting thoughts inside of his head. There was a reason he didn't stew over things that made him upset, whether it was because they made him angry or produced a very negative mindset, and that was because doing so never lead anywhere good. He'd gotten the facts from the doctors, had received endless amounts of support from many people, and reflected on the issue. If none of those things seemed to "solve" it, then Jack knew that nothing he did would, and losing sleep over it would be pointless. He'd have to just ride out all of these thoughts until time dulled and muted them.

Now that he was content with the resolution he'd given the circumstance, Jack decided that going to bed might be a good idea after all. There still wasn't any way he would get a good night's sleep, and he still wasn't exactly at ease, but he at least felt some kind of closure. And even if that wasn't enough to silence his thoughts completely, it was a start, and Jack felt a small bit better.

Standing up, Jack made his way over the stairs, planning to quite literally follow in Signe's footsteps.

And then someone rang the doorbell.

The chipper chime of it rang through the house louder than it normally would have, the silence of the night making it easier for that one sound to be heard. In truth, it actually scared Jack a small bit as he was walking up the stairs, as that noise at that volume was the last thing he expected to hear at this hour.

Jack turned around and moved back down the stairs again, walking slowly towards the front door with an air of caution. Signe hadn't told him about anyone coming over that night, and he most certainly didn't invite anyone over, so Jack had no idea what to expect when he reached the front entrance. And what good ever came from answering an unexpected and unknown visitor late at night?

Maybe he should just pretend he was asleep, or that he wasn't home. That seemed like a much safer option at the moment.

"Jack?"

The man in question froze at the sound of his name. He'd stopped moving only a couple feet away from the door, and considering the lights behind him were still on and there were windows by the front door, whoever was out there had certainly seen him.

But that voice sounded so familiar...

Jack started moving towards the door again, this time at a much faster pace, and in seconds had grabbed the handle and opened it. The crisp air came rushing at him in a small icy blast once he did so, reminding Jack of how cold it was and distracting him for a short moment.

And then the identity of the unexpected visitor was revealed.

"PJ?"

PJ smiled awkwardly and gave a little wave, slightly rocking back and forth on his heels as he did so. His shoes were a strange pair of boots Jack had never seen him wear before, and he was bundled in a coat that was much to big for him. If it was anymore loose fitting PJ would probably be drowning in the fabric.

"Hi," He said, the slight waver in his tone indicating that he was nervous. But about what?

Jack stared at him in utter confusion, his strange attire and behaviour throwing him complete off-guard.

"Hi. What's up?"

"Um, not much really, I just...," PJ trailed off, refusing to meet Jack's gaze. He looked like he really wanted to say something, and yet decided not to, which was making this situation extremely awkward. "Wanted to... talk?"

Jack furrowed his brow in both concern and befuddlement. If PJ was here at this hour, and was acting so strangely, then there had to be something wrong. And Jack was determined to find out what.

"Here, come inside,"Jack offered. "It's freezing out there."

PJ did as Jack asked with a small thank you, and stepped into the house in an oddly panicked manner. Like he was afraid something outside would follow him in.

"Is Signe still awake?" The taller man asked, glancing around the house as if to answer his own question.

"She just went to bed a short while ago, but I think she's asleep."

"Good," PJ said, breathing a small sigh of relief. "That makes this a lot easier."

Jack's level of confusion increased tenfold upon hearing PJ's response. "Makes what easier?"

But PJ didn't answer. Instead he unzipped the rather oversized coat he was wearing and pulled out a small case from one of the pockets inside. It was cylindrical in shape, with a small handle by which PJ was gripping it on one of the circular faces, and was made out of a stiff black material. It almost looked like what would happen if someone decided to combine a briefcase and a thermos, except smaller than you'd expect. The thing was only about half the size of PJ's forearm.

Before Jack could ask what it was for, PJ placed it down on the ground and twisted the handle he'd been holding it by. The result was the top of the case popping off and a strange hissing sound that emanated from it, causing Jack to flinch in surprise. PJ didn't seem fazed by it, however, and continued to bend down next to the device and watched it carefully. Reaching out, he pressed a button on a silver cylinder that had been revealed now that the lid of the case had been removed, which prompted yet another transformation of the object. The top of the new cylinder began to rise up out of the case, like an elevating platform, bringing along with it a small collection of strange mechanical instruments that seemed strangely familiar to Jack.

"What is all of this?" Jack finally managed to get out, the initial surprise he had felt beginning to wear off.

"That's what I'm here to explain."

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It turned out that PJ explaining things meant having to sit Jack down at a table (which he said was necessary, as it was a long explanation) and pulling out several more random objects from the inside of his oversized coat. Jack could only watch as he produced and the organized such a peculiar arrangement of items in quick succession, still wondering where the hell he'd gotten all of it and what it was for.

After pulling out two last brick-shaped mechanical parts, connecting them together as if they were Lego blocks and putting them on the table, PJ stepped back and smiled in satisfaction. It seemed everything was finally to his liking.

Which prompted Jack to repeat his earlier question.

"So, what is all of this for?"

PJ looked up from the organized mess he'd just created end met Jack's expectant eyes. There was a moment of quiet in the conversation as PJ drummed his fingers against the table in thought and Jack patiently waited for the promised explanation.

"Alright, I'm just going to cut to the chase," PJ began with a shrug. "No point in making this anymore complicated than it already is. I'm assuming you still remember the accident you were in from earlier today?"

He said the last part with a joking smile, which Jack couldn't help but return, seeing as how oddly that question was phrased. He didn't even pick up on the fact that PJ had said "in" and not "almost in."

"Well, long story short, it killed you. And you died."

Jack stared at PJ blankly for a moment, the words coming out of his mouth sounding so preposterous that Jack couldn't possibly take them seriously. He even started to laugh, expecting PJ to do the same and start laughing with him before admitting that this was a joke, and that he would actually start to explain what was going on. But he didn't. Jack's smile quickly faded when he saw how gravely PJ was looking at him, and how there wasn't a trace of humour in his expression.

"I'm being serious," He said, his tone as level as his countenance.

"What... how..." Jack stammered, PJ's explanation being completely unhelpful and confusing so far.

"You died. You were hit by that truck and it killed you."

Jack felt his blood run cold. That last sentence included information PJ shouldn't have known.

"How did you know it was a truck?"

"I was informed by some of my associates who'd gathered data on the accident," PJ replied confidently, as if he hadn't just said the creepiest sentence possible in this situation. "And so were the other agents assigned to this case."

"What case?"

"Yours."

Either PJ wasn't making sense, or Jack really had suffered brain damage.

"I'm sorry, but I have no fucking idea what you're talking about PJ."

PJ smiled apologetically before continuing. "Okay, look. You're not exactly human. You're part of a race of beings that evolved from humans. Ones that have more than one life, who can sustain serious injury to the point where their body ceases to function, and then can reincarnate themselves back into the body and give it new life."

Jack's jaw dropped slightly.

"That's why you were able to survive being run over by a massive truck and come back without a scratch. You were able to reincarnate yourself, whether you did it intentionally or not. For most people, the first time they do it is a total accident, and I wouldn't be surprised if that was the case for you."

Jack had no idea how to respond to this, or even if he believed PJ or not. This was something you'd read in a book or see in a movie, not something that happened in real life. It defied logic, nature, physics. Everything. It wasn't scientifically possible, no matter how much you tried to come up with a way to rationalize it. No one could cheat death, and no one could survive what was universally impossible. That was a fact of life, and the one fact that Jack was attempting to cling onto in this conversation.

"That's not possible," He stated simply, giving a voice to his doubts and reasoning. "I wasn't even hit by the truck. The doctors said-"

"The doctors weren't there, Jack. They don't know what happened. Only you and the driver of the truck were, and since that driver has yet to be found, you're the only person who can accurately state what happened.

I don't care what the doctors' explanations were. I care what yours is. So what really happened on that road?"

Jack swallowed nervously, realizing he had a point. He'd grown so used to hearing people tell him that his memory of the incident was incorrect that he assumed that their version must be the right one. The majority didn't appear to have a margin for error in this circumstance, especially considering they were medical professionals, so Jack had just begun to accept their version of events. Even if it contradicted what he, a witness and a victim of the accident, actually saw.

"I got hit by that truck," Jack admitted, both to himself and to PJ. "Or I remember it, at least. I'd thought that was what happened, but nobody believed me."

PJ nodded his head at that last part, as if it sounded familiar to him. "I wouldn't have expected any different. Normal humans don't know about immortanimuses."

"What now?"

"That's the name of our species or race or whatever you want to call it. Immortanimuses plural, Immortanimus singular."

"And the 'immort' part comes from the fact that we're immortal?" Jack asked, trying to figure out the meaning of the word.

"Well, yes and no. We're not immortal, because we still have only thirteen lives, but that is where that comes from. The name's a bit of an exaggeration."

Jack took a moment to absorb the information before speaking again. Surprisingly, he hadn't freaked the hell out yet, despite the fact that none of this should even be possible. Perhaps he was still in shock, or maybe denial, because he honestly expected to wake up in bed any minute now and realize that this all was a dream. There was just no way.

But despite the panic and chaos in Jack's brain, his mouth decided to continue the conversation, leaving him operating on autopilot. 

"So that means I've used up a life?"

"Yep. You've got twelve left."

Jack had been expecting that answer, but hearing it brought another question to mind. One more specific to PJ.

"How many lives do you have left?" He asked, narrowing his eyes curiously and suspiciously.

"Ten," PJ said rather sheepishly. "I've died quite a few times. I'm still not as bad as Rory though."

Jack opened his mouth to ask PJ who on earth Rory was, but he didn't get a chance to, as PJ began speaking again immediately.

"Well, we should probably get you back to base so you can sort out all the boring stuff and get your gear. I already brought some of it with me," He gestured to the assortment of mechanical objects present on the table. "But this isn't all of it, and to be honest, a lot of what's on this table wasn't needed. The IH has a bunch of mandatory protocols that really aren't necessary, and should never have been classified as mandatory in the first place."

Once again, Jack felt the need to ask a question, but was distracted by PJ pulling the weird cylindrical case from earlier across the table.

"First thing's first," He said, pulling out a syringe from the elevated storage container in the case. "I'm going to need to take a blood sample. We've got to make sure it glows blue and all."

And then Jack began to hyperventilate.