Jo barely has that breath back in her, the feeling of her body as her own, in one piece, and gravity up and vanishes. She's falling. They're—they???—are falling. A tumble of bodies. The sound of another person. The all-encompassing, suffocating too, terrifyingly familiar dark. And just when it seems like it won't stop, it stops. Jo crashed into the solid mass of the body, brain still shoving itself back together.

Feelings, images, cold, blood on her hands.
Feeling her life spill out in her hands.

Jo went to push up and found herself slightly weaker, disorientation roiling as she forced her vision into focus and scrambled right back off Geralt. It means she lands wrong, ends up on her ass first, and is still scooting back until she accidentally slams one shoulder into a wall; one that definitely shouldn't be this close. "What the hell did you just do?"

She knows. She knows. She.
Dean said. But that's not possible.