Gradually, it dawns on her that she's staring up at dim blurry lights while quiet music tinkles in the background. Everything is soft and fuzzy; her head feels stuffed full of cotton balls. Too many cotton balls. So many there's pressure in her head.

Trying to twitch her hands or feet, Jensen let out a soft blurble of frustration when her limbs barely moved. Moments later, footsteps approach.

"You're just fine, my love," a soft voice croons. The voice is a reassuring, comforting sound, and a welcome distraction from the vague sensation that something isn't right. A blurry face appears over her, and she can just make out a warm smile spreading across a round face.

"Waa-" Jensen managed to croak out. Her mouth is so dry. It's a desert. A desert in her mouth.

"Not just yet, lovely," the woman tells her.

There's a gentle pat on her arm before the woman vanishes, and Jensen realizes that her hand feels icy cold. With as much concentration as she can muster, she manages to gradually tuck it under her blankets. She's cold all over, though.

The woman reappears, holding something long and white. "Here you go, this will help."

With the aid of gentle hands, Jensen opened her mouth and was delighted to suck down on the few small pieces of crushed ice being offered to her. Everything is soft and fuzzy, but the ice is wet and her mouth isn't a desert anymore.

"Coo-" she manages. Cold, she wants to say. She's cold, but she can't get her mouth to work right. She needs it to work, she needs to talk to the woman.

But the woman seems to know what she's trying to say anyways.

"Cold?" she prompts. At Jensen's small jerky nod, she disappears, then reappears moments later, draping a warm, warm, WARM blanket over her. Toasty warm. Fresh from the microwave warm.

Oh, she's cozy now. Jensen relaxed, letting the heat fill her up from her toes all the way to her head. Flexing her feet, it gradually dawns on her that something is wrapped around her ankles and lower legs, rhythmically tightening and loosening. Not enough to hurt, not at all, but she can't move her legs.

No, she doesn't like it. She can't move her legs. What if she wants to move her legs? She can't. Brow furrowing, Jensen stared up at the lights and started wriggling her feet, slowly squirming out of the strange cuffs. She got one leg free, then the other. Then, she shifts her legs, just a tad. She can move her legs!

"Open wide, my love."

Blinking, Jensen realizes there's a woman standing over her with something white in her hands. She has a blurry, friendly, round face, and a kind smile. Staring wide eyed at the woman, Jensen twined the fingers of one of her hands in her toasty warm blanket and opened her mouth. A spoon slips into her mouth, then slides out, leaving behind several pieces of crushed ice.

Ooh, that was lovely. Happily, Jensen started sucking on the ice. It was cold, but she had a warm blanket and her mouth was so dry.

"You just got out of surgery, love," the woman patiently explains. "Everything went great. You're just fine."

Something about what she says this feels familiar, like she's heard it before. Gradually, it dawns on her that she's staring up at dim blurry lights, the quiet sound of music tinkling in the background. Everything is soft and fuzzy; her head feels stuffed full of cotton balls.

Trying to twitch her hands or feet, Jensen let out a soft blurble of frustration when her limbs barely twitched. Moments later, footsteps approach.

"You're just fine, my love," a soft voice croons. It's a reassuring, comforting sound. Then, there's a soft chuckle and a hand runs down her leg. "Now, now, sweetheart, you need to keep these on."

Fingers clutching at a warm blanket, Jensen stared up at the round lights overhead while something thick is wrapped around her legs and ankles. It starts to squeeze, then loosen, over and over again as the blanket is pulled back down over her feet. Her feet had been so cold.

Tightening her grip on the blanket, Jensen pulled her arm closer to her body, tucking the blanket tighter around herself. After a moment, she reached out with her other arm… but couldn't find the blanket. How odd. She must have made some kind of sound, because the woman appears and starts adjusting the blanket.

"You just got out of surgery, love," she tells her, voice warm and reassuring. "Everything is fine."

Surgery. Goodness. 'I wonder what happened?' she wondered. She's fine, though. The woman said so. Staring up at the round blurry balls of light overhead, Jensen listened to the music playing softly in the background. It's orchestral music, no singing. Just instruments. Captain Simmons would like it, she knows. She should tell him she's done with surgery, that she's fine. He'll worry otherwise.

"Nee-" Frowning, Jensen tried again, focusing harder on getting her mouth to move properly. "Nee Cap… Simms."

"Captain Simmons is just fine, lovely," a woman called out.

She can't see her. Who was that?

"No. Um. Nee tell Cap... that... 'mm oo-kay." There! She'd done it.

"You'll be able to see Captain Simmons very soon, my love," the woman reassured her. There were footsteps, then the blurry outline of a person appeared at her bedside. "We're just going to need to take a little more time for you to recover from surgery. Then you'll get to go to your room and Captain Simmons can come see you."

With a resigned sigh, Jensen returned to staring at the lights overhead. Just a little more time.

Gradually, it dawned on her that the glow of dim lights could be seen through her closed eyes while machines beeped and hissed quietly in the background. Everything was soft and fuzzy; her head felt stuffed full of cotton balls while her limbs were nothing more than dull, heavy weights pinning her to the bed. As she breathed, slow and deep, the skin on her chest pulled slightly, and she vaguely felt something similar to that time she and Jess covered each other in stickers years before they'd understood they were living in a world plagued by war.

For several moments, Jensen focused on the world around her, struggling to sort out the strange details slowly filtering through her senses. A hint of chemical cleaners hung in the still air. There was a faint hum of an air circulation system, but no air moving across her face. The machines she could hear were close, yet faint.

Suddenly, nearby, a loud series of squeaks interrupted her slow analysis. Reluctantly, Jensen opened her eyes and found herself staring up at a smooth metal ceiling with a few plain light panels. Machines hung on metal arms and stands all around her - all different pieces of medical equipment. She was lying in a narrow hospital bed, propped up with a few pillows with several worn blankets over her.

She was in the hospital wing. Why was she in the hospital? She must have been hurt - what had happened? Questions began to swirl in her mind but her thoughts were slow and muddled. Sleep tugged at her, trying to coax her to close her eyes once more and just let herself drift back into sweet oblivion.

She couldn't do that, though. She needed answers. She needed to know what had happened.

Blinking her eyes, she did her best to shake off the exhaustion that filled her and instead turned her head, looking towards the strange sound she heard.

Looking pale and wan, Matthews peered at her from his own bed. Lying flat on his back, his legs shook as he held them up in the air. When their eyes met, his face suddenly colored and he let them fall back onto the mattress, then hauled his blanket up to his chin, clearly embarrassed at having been caught mid-exercise. Dr. Grey may have been able to bolt and screw his fractured and broken body back together after the final fight with Charon, but he hadn't been cleared yet to get out of bed for physical therapy.

"Hi! How are you feeling?" Matthews inquired. "You look a lot more alert than you did earlier!"

"Earlier?" Confused, Jensen frowned. "The last thing I remember is Captain Simmons telling me about an upcoming mission. We just added some Feds to the team and he wanted to break them in easy." She sucked in a sudden shocked breath. "The mission - what happened? Did they cancel it?"

Matthews bit his lip, a flicker of anxiety flashing across his face. "The mission was yesterday."

"I missed it?"

"No, you… You went on it. Um-" Matthews' voice cracked as he suddenly broke off. He stared around the room for a few moments, carefully avoiding her gaze. "You got hurt on the mission. Dr. Grey said you had a concussion and you might not remember."

"... remember what?" Jensen asked slowly as an unpleasant chill ran through her. She'd talked with Captain Simmons just a few hours earlier. Or perhaps the day before. The mission wasn't supposed to have happened yet! How could Matthews say that the mission had been yesterday?

Something about her sudden distress must have shown on her face as Matthews didn't answer right away.

"Matthews, tell me," she demanded.

Looking unhappy, Matthews' lips twisted mournfully and he nodded his head towards her, his eyes flickered down slightly. "The mission was yesterday. It went… bad. Really bad, and, well, your arm's..." his voice trailed off.

"My arm?" Jensen looked down. Her right arm was bruised and bandaged, and an IV port had been affixed to her hand. A thin plastic tube was attached to the port and ran up to the bag hanging off a pole coming out of the wall overhead. That was bad, but not terrible. She'd been hurt worse. Which meant...

Real fear began to claw at her throat. For a minute, she couldn't bring herself to look over at her other side, terrified of what she'd find.

Finally, with a shaky breath, she shifted her gaze. At first, she didn't understand what she was seeing, her mind refusing to process the evidence before her as she clenched her left fist. She could feel the flex of muscles, the bite of uneven nails against the palm of her hand, and a faint tingle running the full length of her arm. But she didn't see it. She didn't see anything. Instead of an arm, her arm, there was nothing. Just a short stump, wrapped in bandages.

That wasn't-

That couldn't be-

Where was her arm?

Distantly, Jensen could hear the sound of the heart rate monitor accelerate. Matthews' spoke up but his words didn't make any sense. Everything around her suddenly seemed far away, out of reach or understanding.

She opened her mouth to scream or maybe cry, but found she couldn't breath. A fresh layer of panic engulfed her as she gasped. Her throat was so tight; the only sound she could make was a strangled wheeze.

Air, she needed air, where was her arm? She couldn't breath, no air, her throat was closed-

A tall figure suddenly loomed over her, causing her to flinch back. The figure reached out, forcing something hard and plastic over her face.

Flailing, Jensen grabbed at the thing covering her face, trying to pry it off. Tears rolled down her face as she struggled to breathe and fought to free herself.

The figure leaned menacingly over her once more even as the room started to spin. Then, another figure appeared on her other side and took firm hold of her hand, pulling it away from her face and readjusting the thing the first figure had forced on her.

A cool, metal hand rested against her cheek, a long, slender thumb gently rubbing her cheekbone. Staring up, Jensen froze as a glowing red eye stared down at her.

"-kay, Katie, you're okay," the new figure was saying. "Everything's going to be fine. We're here to help. Just try and take a deep breath. I know you can do it."

With a small shudder, Jensen let herself collapse against her pillows, clutching hard at the warm hand holding her own.

"Take a breath, just one. You can do it."

"Cap'n," Jensen finally croaked a few minutes later. Above her, Simmons let out a soft, relieved sigh.

"Just keep breathing," he firmly ordered her. "The nurse gave you an asthma reliever through your IV. You should start feeling better soon."

With a soft sniff, Jensen nodded and focused on taking as deep a breath as she could manage with her aching chest.

Simmons continued to hover next to her, occasionally shifting his weight from foot to foot. Glancing up at him, Jensen realized that he had dark circles under his eyes and lines of stress that hadn't been there before.

"Captain, what happened?" she finally asked when the nurse allowed her to remove the breathing mask he'd placed on her face, feeling shaky and exhausted. She wanted to sleep, to turn her brain off, but first, she needed to know why she was in the hospital, why she was missing an arm.

Her captain didn't answer right away, instead glancing around the room. Giving her hand a quick squeeze, he let go and grabbed a chair from nearby, carrying it over next to her. After sitting, he took a deep, slow breath, clearly gathering his thoughts.

"You've been out for most of a day," he began quietly. "We went on the recon mission yesterday morning. Do you remember that?" he asked. When she shook her head, he grimaced and continued. "We ran into a band of pirates at the first location. We fought them. Our new squadmates… they didn't make it." Here Simmons paused, pressing his lips together and briefly bowing his head. "You and Volleyball found a missile launcher with some kind of chemical weapon inside. You managed to retrieve the chemical payload, but the explosive went off while your hand was still inside. You- You were pretty badly hurt. I- got you back to base and Dr. Grey treated you, but-"

He stopped, gaze shifting to the stump she was struggling to ignore, desperately wanting to pretend everything was fine.

"You lost part of your arm in the explosion," Simmons finally continued. "And Grey had to take even more off just to- to clean it up and make sure it didn't kill you. Your other injuries are serious, but not as bad. You had a concussion when you were brought in, several broken ribs, and were just- battered all over from being thrown around by the blast."

Silence filled the room once Simmons finished speaking. Sitting in the worn metal chair, he stared down at his folded hands, face slightly flushed. On the other side of the room, Matthews buried his nose in a datapad, pretending he couldn't hear every word they were saying.

After several silent moments, Jensen reached across her torso and touched the stump with shaking fingers. Even that feather-light touch sent a flare of pain up the remains of her arm and into her shoulder.

"I lost my arm," Jensen whispered, fresh tears brimming in her eyes. The tips of her fingers drifted across the rough texture of the bandages wound around the stump. If she closed her eyes, she would have sworn she could feel her entire arm - her knobby elbow, the slight pop in her wrist as rotated her hand, and the bite of sharp finger nails in her palm as she made a fist. But the bandage and the pain - that was the truth. That was real, not the phantom sensation of what she'd lost.

Dropping her hand back onto the bed, she turned her head away, staring the wall behind the different machines she was attached to. "I think I'd like to go back to sleep now," she declared in a tight voice.

"Jen-" Simmons paused. "Katie, I- I know this is hard-"

"Please just go away, sir."

There was a moment of silence, then the rustle of clothes as Simmons stood. Jensen could feel him hovering next to her bed and the weight of his mismatched gaze on her. Then, light fingers brushed the back of her hand.

"You'll get through this, Katie," he said in a quiet voice. "I promise." The legs of the chair scraped the floor as Simmons moved it back to its original location before heading for the door. Pausing, he turned towards her, "I'll tell Volleyball you woke up. She's been worried. It'll help hearing you're starting to recover."

With that final statement, the door slid shut behind him and the room was silent once more.

Jensen didn't move or react. Slowly, the tears that had been building up began to leak out of her eyes, rolling down her face and leaving glistening trails on her cheeks. It wasn't fair.