(no subject)

[roci]

When Jim shows up, he's in one of the corridors on the Rocinante, boots muddied, wind-whipped hair, eyes bloodshot with fatigue, dark circles underneath.

He stops dead. Wavering on his feet. Staring dully at what's in front of him like it can't be.

Slowly, his mind processes a somewhat-suppressed memory of a conversation with an ineffable being that runs a boat in space full of prisoners.
"Jesus fucking Christ.

"Jesus fucking Christ."

Somewhere in his exhausted brain and body, he reaches a reserve of adrenaline not yet depleted, and he takes the few steps to what-was-formerly-the-airlock-door at a run. Slams his hand into the release, and it opens onto the hallways of the Barge.

Like he knew it would.

Time seems to do a weird sort of skip, because suddenly his face is on the ground and he's not standing up anymore. And his vision has gone all sparkly. Not green, though. Not green.

Comments

[ninefox]

They were five floors apart when they were paired, not that it mattered after Jedao got spooked by Mikodez and moved into the Roci. Mikodez is gone now, too, but Jedao is back on the first floor, living out of Quentin's cabin instead of the cramped barracks and shipside berth that neither Fives nor he are quite willing to change. So - he hears and also recognizes the particular thump of a man-sized body collapsing. He slips into the hallway, out of curiosity more than alarm, nosy for gossip about who's shanking who in the corridors now, only for the bottom to drop out of his stomach.

"Spiderfucking hells -"

He knows people can have the same faces, let alone the same back-of-the-head. But he knows people by more than that, by how they move, how they feel, how they fit into the world - he's not moving - and he might not remember Jedao at all, even though it's him, it has to be him -

"James, we're going to take care of you," he promises, more honest than it's safe here or you're going to be alright.