There were more times in which Johnny rose to the surface of the pond after his initial attempt. And each time, it was a bit easier. He kept himself down, though, not trying to stand again, and discovered that when he didn't exhaust himself attempting small things, that it was much sooner between each lapse into the darkness.
So when the moment came that he felt like he could actually sit up and stay there, Johnny was eager to try and discovered his body more willing to give him the chance.
Again, the colors were brighter than he had ever known colors to be, and there was a sense of closeness created by the foliage around him. He could smell the plants, the raw earth. He was able to look down at himself this time, and discover that he was in a button-closed shirt and a pair of jeans. Johnny had no idea when the last time he'd worn jeans was. He pulled the cloth of the shirt away from his chest so that he could look down at his flesh. There was only a scar there. Still red and angry, but just a scar. No hole. He absently rubbed at the ruined flesh while his eyes scouted around for other things.
A figure sat near him. He felt certain of who it was, and felt confident that he would know her anywhere. Just by her outline. The way her hair moved. Her posture.
"Mary." His voice was not accustomed to being used, and the single word came out a little rough and low. He wasn't sure that she heard it.