With the seemingly endless, purposeless drifting, it's a genuine shock to see the easy pathway between planes, and even more mystifying to be able to slide into that avenue without exacting as much effort as he's grown used to. It takes several tries before he can collect himself into completion, fashion that shape in a projection of light and molecules.

He examines the area around him, the unusually open space, energy grazing along dimensions and doors that haven't been open to him for so long, and several he's sure he doesn't recognize. It's a moment - shorter, perhaps, in the typical understanding of time - before he settles upon the form that he doesn't immediately recognize. It's all light and wings and a brightness compacted into the body of a vessel that is so much smaller than the being within it. It's beautiful and terrifying, but when Daniel finally peers past it he remembers the face of the man it wears.

His projection stares.

"Gabe?"