James T. Kirk

Kirk had never been so grateful for knowing the layout of the ship like he did. He was able to slip out of sickbay unseen, but outside of it, he knew it would be tricky. At his slow pace, it was a long walk to his quarters. The clothing given to him by sickbay rubbed against the scabbed tattoos until he wanted to scream as he walked calmly, slowly.

The wall was required to keep him from stumbling as he went. For once, he was incredibly grateful their medical team had quarters close to sickbay because he found Bones' room long before he would have gotten to his own. He quickly punched in the override and slipped inside.

It was only long enough to replicate his uniform. He let the white material fall to the floor and carefully, using the bed, he managed to get the uniform on.

Unfortunately, it required a long rest after just a short walk and getting on clothing. Kirk refused to look at his body, at the damage that had been written into the skin. Fuck that, he couldn't take it right now. Couldn't.

Why did he leave Bones back there?

Kirk rubbed his brow slowly, exhaustion pulling at his eyelids, wanting him to lay back on the bed and fall asleep. He forced himself to stay awake and looked around the room. He blinked, realizing that it looked... kinda empty. What have you been up to, Bones?

With a force of effort he could barely sum up, Kirk got himself back up to his feet. He left the room, and with that same slow tread, trying to look like he was taking a calm stroll around the ship, he went towards the nearest turbolift to head up to the higher deck where his quarters lied.