I reach out one hand.
My fingers breach the barrier and Earth hits me like a slap. The gravity's wrong—heavier. The air tastes recycled, processed, dead. No phosphorescence. No life. Just gray and brown and the weight of seven billion people trying to survive.
But Tommy's there. Safe now, his death sentence commuted, but still there. Still my baby brother who trusted me to save him. Who I did save, by coming here.
My whole hand is through now. The portal recognizes me, starts to pull gently. Come home, it whispers. Come back to your world.
I could step through right now. Walk back into that facility, collect whatever credits they give returning women. Find Tommy. Try to rebuild some kind of life with this modified body that will never stop craving what only exists here.
I stand there for a long time, hand through the portal, body here, caught between worlds. The pull gets stronger, more insistent. I can feel the portal's edges starting to destabilize—maybe an hour before it closes. Maybe less.
“Tommy,” I whisper to the gray world beyond. “I'm sorry.”
Sorry for what? For not coming back? For choosing myself? For finding something worth staying for?
All of it. None of it.
I think about writing him a note, tossing it through. But what would I say? “Your sister chose alien dick over family”? “I found home in a toxic swamp”? “I'm happy”?
That last one stops me. Am I happy?
The answer comes immediately. Yes. Fuck yes. Happier than I ever was in that gray world. Happy in a complicated, difficult, dangerous way that feels more real than anything Earth offered.
“Well?” I say to no one. To myself. To the universe. “This is it.”
The portal pulls harder. Time's running out.
And I laugh.
Not bitter. Not hysterical. Real laughter that echoes across the clearing and sends the watching creatures scattering. Because it's so obvious now. Standing here with escape literally at my fingertips, I finally understand.
I was never going to leave.
“Fuck. That.”
I pull my hand back. The portal resists for a second, clinging, then releases me. I take three deliberate steps backward. Then three more. Then turn and walk away without looking back.
“Dramatic female.”
I don't jump. Part of me knew he'd follow, even though he promised not to interfere. He's coiled at the tree line, trying to look casual but his tail is doing that anxious twitch.
“Dramatic serpent. Had to watch?” I walk toward him, each step taking me further from the portal that's still spinning behind me.
“Had to know.” He doesn't move, making me come all the way to him.
“Know what?” I stop just outside his coil range.
“What female chose.”
“Female chose twenty days ago. Maybe longer.” I step into his space, close enough to touch but not touching. “Just needed to see the door to know I'd never walk through it.”
“Why?” His tail twitch gets worse.
I look back at the portal, already starting to shrink. “Because that's not home. Hasn't been home since the first week. That's just the place I used to live.”
“And this?” He means the swamp, the shelter, us.
“This is where I live now.” I close the distance between us, pressing my palm flat against his chest. “With the bastard serpent who makes me need him twice a day.”
