[ Jim's been pacing the hospital morgue. He'd thrown off the bodybag and gotten out of the drawer as quickly as possible, but the morgue was sealed up tight for the night. Of course he'd end up back in the hospital. He barely recognizes the place; he'd avoided it as much as he could every time they'd passed through here, and of course he hadn't seen it the first time.
But the panic's there in his chest, if he looks for it. The fear of the darkness, of the suffocation - of death, again, of blindness and helplessness. He's not helpless this time, though he can't put a finger on what he's lost yet. It didn't matter. He had himself, and all his senses, and he could make it through this alone if he had to.
He opens his tablet anyway, as soon as he finds it. The rest of his stuff's missing, but it must be back at the bunker with the others. His hands linger over the message field, hesitating to send anything. What if it were a lie, and the administration could read every message? What if Zell had already moved on? Jim's not even sure how long he's been dead.
He grips the tablet tight and takes a deep breath in, holds it, lets it out. The exercises he'd learned to cope before don't help as much as they could when he's standing in the middle of all this, but they help enough to steady his hands as he types. ]
Late 381/Early 382, Text/Massive TLDR
But the panic's there in his chest, if he looks for it. The fear of the darkness, of the suffocation - of death, again, of blindness and helplessness. He's not helpless this time, though he can't put a finger on what he's lost yet. It didn't matter. He had himself, and all his senses, and he could make it through this alone if he had to.
He opens his tablet anyway, as soon as he finds it. The rest of his stuff's missing, but it must be back at the bunker with the others. His hands linger over the message field, hesitating to send anything. What if it were a lie, and the administration could read every message? What if Zell had already moved on? Jim's not even sure how long he's been dead.
He grips the tablet tight and takes a deep breath in, holds it, lets it out. The exercises he'd learned to cope before don't help as much as they could when he's standing in the middle of all this, but they help enough to steady his hands as he types. ]
Hey. I'm alive.