[ The crack rings out again. It isn't painless. But it's sharp, at least. Over quickly. Not like the tube. Not like Star's large, precise hands pinching closed arteries to keep him from bleeding out.

(Short-range, except when he needs to not be. Except when he's not acting on Jotaro's explicit instruction but instead upon something else. Except when he fetches things like comic books and cans of beer and boys snatched out of the air before what remains of their bodies break beyond repair against the skyline of Cairo) ]

Everyone was trying to get you to take a nap. I heard you talking to your grandmother, you know. People were trying to get you to take a nap in at least two different countries and four different languages.

[ Somehow, that's what sparks recognition. Jotaro refusing to take a damn nap. And he still remembers water. Still remembers twisted metal wrapping around him like a mockery of an embrace, still remembers thinking that the torn sheet metal carrying his weight was the most loving way he'd ever been held.

But only vaguely. Because he remembers flying backward but into Star's arms. He remembers slapping his hand desperately against Jotaro's watch because his breath was coming too jagged and red to speak. He remembers masks and tubes and concerned mumbling that seemed so far away that it couldn't possibly be about him and waking up every few hours to announce that it stops time. ]

What- did you need to tell me?

[ Somehow it doesn't seem obvious. Jotaro's just told him to make a list of things that happened. ]