[ seeing jax alive is a gutpunch, the combination of relief and dim, banked fury making her feel a little dizzy. he hovers but they both have to dress, and once he's out of sight and headed for his locker tara sags against her own, closing her eyes and breathing in slow and deep to keep down the urge to do something— violent or embarrassing or both, who knows after what happened outside the bridge.

opening the locker one handed is easy enough, but getting dressed is something else. the zipper on her jeans won't pull smooth and the denim keeps pulling and shifting on her too-wet skin; tara curses her hand and impatience and grits her teeth, tugging until she gets it. the button is a lost cause, but jax's too-big shirt is easy enough. ]

[ sending tig after jax and promising he can find her in medical ( and swearing medical is close enough he doesn't have to walk her doesn't work, and she doesn't bother not rolling her eyes at the whole process ) gives tara space to take a moment for herself, and she pauses in the hall just outside medbay's entrance. making sure she's not immediately visible from inside or anyone walking by, she leans against the wall and lifts up her hand, staring at the blue-tinted gauze with faint distaste.

the wrappings will need to be changed soon, and focusing on that practical fact keeps her from thinking about why; what it means that her hand will need to heal, or why it needs the time at all. ]