Picking up the Pieces ( for conjuredskies )

They made it out alive.

It still hasn't quite sunk in fully yet. Jim's body still tensed and coiled with every step ready to go into fight or flight mode at the drop of a hat. Everything hurts. His hand feels like he's grabbing a redhot wire with every beat of his heart. Both knees are bloody with glass, dirt and who knows what else in the wounds. He's bruised literally everywhere and his stomach doesn't know what the fuck is going on anymore the way he's been swinging between starvation and mildly hungover. The concept of relaxing being fought tooth and nail by his body's override of survive that pushes him to keep moving keep fighting get somewhere safe.

Even with Felix in hand, Jim feels like he's lost a limb coming back to the ship without his younger counterpart. We go together or not at all. We go together or not at all. But even that ended up in tragedy. The younger captain changed and warped, turning into just another Jim Eating Monster and that's a blow Jim doesn't need. Not being able to even trust himself.

Jim's unaware that Felix has maneuvered him onto his couch until he's suddenly sitting and his knees scream with the protest of bending. A shaky gasp of pain eeks out of Jim's throat that he tries to stifle. Not safe to make noise not safe not safe. Unaware that it's Felix who's calling the lights to thirty percent, who's getting a cup of coffee from the replicator. Who's acting as though they belong in this place. Right now, Jim doesn't feel like a starship captain. His mind is still jammed stuck firmly in the past and to the facades of ghosts who shouldn't have been on Tarsus.

It's going to be a long night.


[This is gonna be a heavy read and deal with trauma and heavy subjects you are warned.]