Tadhg feels that first touch, the sudden flare of other energies brushing against him, bright and vital. Out of purest reflex, he latches on to that contact and pulls, using Jim as a replacement link with his own body.
His senses abruptly reconnect with his consciousness, flooding him with light, sound and scent. Reaction and relief makes his eyes sting and his chest heave as the shapes around him gradually become clear: he's flat on his back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and a worried-looking Jim Kirk bent over him. "Ruddy hells," he croaks, more to hear the sound of his own voice than anything else. "That shouldn't have happened."
He rolls to his side and tries to push himself upright, but a wave of nausea hits, forcing him to curl around his stomach briefly. Once he's assured that his last meal will stay where it is, he slowly sits up, turning toward the little girl he just tried to help. She sits as still as ever, and at first glance nothing seems to have changed other than the lack of bruising on her arm. But Tadhg sees a subtle quickening in the flow along her patterns, and flickers of awareness returning to her eyes to match it. The lass takes a deeper breath, a tiny furrow appears on her forehead, but she still makes no sound.
Tadhg draws his knees up and rests his folded arms on them. "Well, that's something at least," he sighs. "I'd hoped for more, but I don't think I can risk trying again." He turns his dark gaze on Jim. "Go raibh maith agat, my friend. Thank you."
no subject
His senses abruptly reconnect with his consciousness, flooding him with light, sound and scent. Reaction and relief makes his eyes sting and his chest heave as the shapes around him gradually become clear: he's flat on his back on the floor, staring up at the ceiling and a worried-looking Jim Kirk bent over him. "Ruddy hells," he croaks, more to hear the sound of his own voice than anything else. "That shouldn't have happened."
He rolls to his side and tries to push himself upright, but a wave of nausea hits, forcing him to curl around his stomach briefly. Once he's assured that his last meal will stay where it is, he slowly sits up, turning toward the little girl he just tried to help. She sits as still as ever, and at first glance nothing seems to have changed other than the lack of bruising on her arm. But Tadhg sees a subtle quickening in the flow along her patterns, and flickers of awareness returning to her eyes to match it. The lass takes a deeper breath, a tiny furrow appears on her forehead, but she still makes no sound.
Tadhg draws his knees up and rests his folded arms on them. "Well, that's something at least," he sighs. "I'd hoped for more, but I don't think I can risk trying again." He turns his dark gaze on Jim. "Go raibh maith agat, my friend. Thank you."