[ Only Jim Kirk could touch her in this state and keep his fingers intact. His hand covers her skin and her racing heart immediately calms, her body recognizing his as safe long before her mind catches up. His forehead against hers brings back that same ache from before, the same reminder that he isn't her James, but she doesn't care. In this moment, he's the only thing keeping her from screaming out her pain and sorrow, so she gives into the need to be close to him, her breathing following his and that panic subsiding enough to continue with what needs to be done.
It feels strange when he pulls back, but she nods at his words, appreciating that he lays things out that way. Even the slightest bit of control over this situation is enough to keep her heartrate from rocketing back up. ]
Damn the ramparts, Lieutenant. [ It's not the correct phrase, but to this day, no one has corrected Chris whenever he uses it. There's something charming in the words, and La'an clings to them as she prepares herself for the stinging pain of skin rapidly generating and knitting together. Her shoulder is a mess, the claws leaving jagged tears, but the wounds are already exposed and ready for treatment.
And the pain is... more than she'd expected. Her stronger hand clings to the edge of the bed as he works, and her complexion pales further as she holds back her reactions to the sensations that are nearly as bad as the injury itself. But she can't show how much it hurts. She might not be their leader anymore, but the people in this room still expect her to be the strongest of them all and she will not prove them wrong. ]
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It feels strange when he pulls back, but she nods at his words, appreciating that he lays things out that way. Even the slightest bit of control over this situation is enough to keep her heartrate from rocketing back up. ]
Damn the ramparts, Lieutenant. [ It's not the correct phrase, but to this day, no one has corrected Chris whenever he uses it. There's something charming in the words, and La'an clings to them as she prepares herself for the stinging pain of skin rapidly generating and knitting together. Her shoulder is a mess, the claws leaving jagged tears, but the wounds are already exposed and ready for treatment.
And the pain is... more than she'd expected. Her stronger hand clings to the edge of the bed as he works, and her complexion pales further as she holds back her reactions to the sensations that are nearly as bad as the injury itself. But she can't show how much it hurts. She might not be their leader anymore, but the people in this room still expect her to be the strongest of them all and she will not prove them wrong. ]