I'm overwhelmed, I'm on repeat [San Francisco]
The lingering sickness from the radiation had finally passed, and after a few days of observation Jim was ready to go home, even if he didn’t say so. He’d taken walks, the first one just from the bed to the bathroom to take a shower, which had been surprisingly exhausting. Longer ones after that, up and down the hall, Bones close enough to catch him if he needed it.
Jim still didn’t feel like his old self, but he was getting there, and at last he was being discharged. He looked at the clothes Bones had brought from his apartment, glad to get rid of the hospital gown and pull on his own clothes, the old Academy sweats and long-sleeved t-shirt soft and comfortable. He had to pull the drawstring in the pants a little tighter, and once he was dressed and perched on the edge of the biobed again he caught sight of himself in the mirror on the other side of the room. His face looked thin, and the shirt, like the pants, fit a little looser than it had. But all that aside, he didn’t look any different.
He checked his communicator again, ignoring the messages from Command scheduling a meeting for the next week, once he’d had time to rest and recover a little more. Their patience was unusual, but then again, Jim supposed they had a lot to deal with. He’d seen the images of the city, seen the gaps in the skyline when he’d looked out the window. He knew, now, what had happened in the hours and days he’d been in limbo.
Instead, Jim snapped his comm shut and waited to be officially sprung.
Jim still didn’t feel like his old self, but he was getting there, and at last he was being discharged. He looked at the clothes Bones had brought from his apartment, glad to get rid of the hospital gown and pull on his own clothes, the old Academy sweats and long-sleeved t-shirt soft and comfortable. He had to pull the drawstring in the pants a little tighter, and once he was dressed and perched on the edge of the biobed again he caught sight of himself in the mirror on the other side of the room. His face looked thin, and the shirt, like the pants, fit a little looser than it had. But all that aside, he didn’t look any different.
He checked his communicator again, ignoring the messages from Command scheduling a meeting for the next week, once he’d had time to rest and recover a little more. Their patience was unusual, but then again, Jim supposed they had a lot to deal with. He’d seen the images of the city, seen the gaps in the skyline when he’d looked out the window. He knew, now, what had happened in the hours and days he’d been in limbo.
Instead, Jim snapped his comm shut and waited to be officially sprung.