Back to life
His dreams were disjointed and murky; just snatches of conversation or flashes of images, nothing continuous. He heard the enraged roar when the first Klingon had charged him, bitten off abruptly by the blast of phaser fire striking him squarely in the chest. Jim saw Ellison's face again, felt the shock of the blade penetrating skin and muscle, but then the scene shifted without warning. Bones looking back at him in a rain-soaked alleyway; his mother hugging him fiercely when they had parted ways in San Francisco. Then there was Spock, gazing at him with barely-concealed annoyance or sitting next to him by a fire.
Other things flitted through his mind, too. A gurgling, excited giggle; a small weight tucked comfortably against his chest. His father, cane set aside--not a cane, his memory supplied--a look of joy on his face while he tossed a small girl high in the air and then caught her in his large hands. He gave a booming laugh as the tiny girl--baby, really--shrieked with glee.
There was pain, too, whether real or just a memory he wasn't sure. That and all other sensations felt muted, like he was wrapped in layers of warmth and exhaustion. The pain faded as he healed, but the fog that hung over him was slow to lift.
When it began it was subtle. An awareness of touch, the clasp of a familiar hand around his; that strange yet familiar weight on his chest and the small movements that accompanied it. Then came the sounds of sickbay; low voices that sounded underwater at first but slowly became more clear, soft cries, and the usual backdrop of instruments.
He wasn't quite awake yet when he shifted his hand, his body stiff and uncomfortable from lying so long in the same position. His fingers brushed against something soft; a familiar head of hair. Jim slid his hand over Bones' hair and turned his head. His eyes blinked slowly, gritty from his long sleep, but when his vision cleared he saw Bones sitting next to the bed with his head pillowed on one arm and nestled against Jim's side on top of the covers.
It took longer for him to process the fact that the sheet and the blanket lay so flat. The curve of his expanding belly was gone. Alarmed, Jim brought his other hand up and splayed it flat over his middle, staring down at the sickbay gown wrapped securely around him and disappearing under the covers. No. This isn't right...
Other things flitted through his mind, too. A gurgling, excited giggle; a small weight tucked comfortably against his chest. His father, cane set aside--not a cane, his memory supplied--a look of joy on his face while he tossed a small girl high in the air and then caught her in his large hands. He gave a booming laugh as the tiny girl--baby, really--shrieked with glee.
There was pain, too, whether real or just a memory he wasn't sure. That and all other sensations felt muted, like he was wrapped in layers of warmth and exhaustion. The pain faded as he healed, but the fog that hung over him was slow to lift.
When it began it was subtle. An awareness of touch, the clasp of a familiar hand around his; that strange yet familiar weight on his chest and the small movements that accompanied it. Then came the sounds of sickbay; low voices that sounded underwater at first but slowly became more clear, soft cries, and the usual backdrop of instruments.
He wasn't quite awake yet when he shifted his hand, his body stiff and uncomfortable from lying so long in the same position. His fingers brushed against something soft; a familiar head of hair. Jim slid his hand over Bones' hair and turned his head. His eyes blinked slowly, gritty from his long sleep, but when his vision cleared he saw Bones sitting next to the bed with his head pillowed on one arm and nestled against Jim's side on top of the covers.
It took longer for him to process the fact that the sheet and the blanket lay so flat. The curve of his expanding belly was gone. Alarmed, Jim brought his other hand up and splayed it flat over his middle, staring down at the sickbay gown wrapped securely around him and disappearing under the covers. No. This isn't right...