[ he's not sorry.

he isn't, and that's not going to change. whatever happened to the people trapped on the bridge, he isn't sorry he pulled dana out of it. that thought comes to him slowly, derek sliding out of the pod. it's never easy. it will never be easy, adjusting to the way everything feels raw, oversensitive. but he can hear dana, and he coughs, swallows hard, forces out a breath in relief. she's alive. she can be furious with him if she wants, but at least she's alive to be furious.

the concept of giving in like that is beyond derek. selfishly, he refuses to accept that decision from her. he straightens up, body turning towards her. he isn't sure what he's going to say, but he's already bracing himself against her reaction. he's not stupid. he knows it's going to be negative. ]

[ when derek gets to his lockers, there's a fading red mark standing out against his skin. he looks simultaneously pissed off and guilty as he yanks his clothes out of the locker. he's dripping all over the floor, having dried himself off too quickly, not thoroughly enough. he's rushing. derek never lingers too long at the jump, but he doesn't usual rush, go through the motions quickly to get out of the med bay.

for once, there's nothing strange and ominous in his locker. derek allows himself to exhale, relax a fraction. he doesn't care much about the things the ship gives him, but he's tired of finding items in the bottom of his locker, reminders of home he never asked for. he hesitates for a moment, looking suspiciously into his locker like he's expecting something to jump out at him. if it did, derek wouldn't really be surprised. he still remembered the fox in river's locker, all those months ago. ]

About time this happened.

[ flatly, more to himself than anything else. he slams his locker closed and yanks his henley over his head, ignoring the way it sticks to the damp patches of skin he'd missed with the towel. ]