A whole ‘nother day spent in depositions and hearings about what happened, and what should be done now. I’m sorely tempted to just climb straight into a bottle for the evening, but I’m due at 09:00 to tour the repairs and upgrades to the Enterprise’s Med Bay with Geoffrey, and it wouldn’t due to have the CMO show up smelling like he spent the night warming a bar stool, so I’m writing it down instead.
The only saving grace is that my research on [NAME REDACTED]’s blood were corrupted during the power surges on the Enterprise.
Good God, I cannot fathom a world where death could just be rolled back like that. Sometimes… Sometimes, I’m not certain I should have done it to begin with. Christ, I’m so bone achingly grateful to have him back, but Jim’s different. At least a little bit. He’s quieter, and he gets this exhausted, faraway look when he thinks no one’s lookin’.
Was I so desperate to do for Jim what I couldn’t do for my father that I forget my oath? Have I done more harm than I could ever repair?
I can’t really ask him though; man’s practically attached to Spock’s hip these days and they’re busier than bees in May. I’m not sure he’d ever tell me that he wasn’t happy, and maybe it’s just grief, but I can’t help but wonder if it would have been better to just let him sleep?