Taking the time to breathe and to warn them helps. "I am alright, but thank you," he says in response to Xander's inquiries, nevermind that that could not be further from the truth. He takes another breath, attempting to center himself, and lets it out slowly.

"I do not remember how I returned to Earth - heavily sedated, I assume," he starts. "When I arrived...my world has no magic, no supernatural forces, and so powers like mine were unprecedented. There had been some progress in artificial gravitic manipulation - the Tobelstein reactor comes to mind - but nothing capable of matching what I am able to do. I was...unstable, unable to control my powers or think beyond the melody, and I do not think anyone knew how to handle it."

He is trembling again, despite his best efforts; surviving the accident was one thing, but his treatment afterwards is what most of his nightmares consist of. "I spent...a long time...locked up. They could not control me, and I was considered to be dangerous, so...I was relegated to a straitjacket and a padded room, begging for my freedom to people who would not listen. I do not know whether they reported me as dead or simply erased my presence from the world. Either way, I was...an oddity, to be kept under lock and key for observation, catalogued as Subject Sigma."

He takes a slow breath, still shaking, and lets it out. There is precious little calm to be had here, but he will take what he can. "I spent much of that time inside my own head, believing I would never be released." That he would spend the rest of whatever remained in his life in isolation, screaming and begging for his freedom until he died. "And then one day there were...alarms. Gunshots. The people who became my current colleagues found me and got me out. They gave me the time and the space to recover and find myself again."

It sounds like such a happy ending, and he knows now that it is not. "I have only just recently realized that they are not who I thought they were."