Consciousness returned not with a jolt, but as a slow, heavy tide pulling him from a lightless, dreamless sea. Jin's senses registered the softness pressing against his back—a medical cot, a silent promise of comfort compared to the cold, unyielding metal he barely remembered. His skin tingled with awareness, sluggish and heavy, as if his limbs were wrapped in damp cloth.
A chorus of quiet feminine voices floated nearby—murmurs that rippled through the air like a soothing balm. His eyelids trembled but refused to lift, weighted with exhaustion as if shackled by invisible chains. A faint breath escaped him—a raw, dry groan that scratched the silence.
"He's awake!" Clara's urgent voice cut through the haze, her words tripping over each other. The rapid thump of footsteps hastened across the floor. "Jin? Can you hear me? It's Clara. You're in the Command Wing. You're safe. Please don't move, your vitals are… stabilizing."
