Awareness comes slow to Leonard. On the ship there's always something keeping him up or something that needs doing- even on leave he's a little wired and tense, unable to unspool entirely. But here on Earth, with the familiar humidity of Georgia thick in the cool morning air? He drifts to the land of the living gradually.

In fits and snatches he drifts back into his body- his brows furrowing, fingers curling in the sheets, tongue darting out to wet his lips and work out the evening's worth of cottonmouth. Not his favorite symptom, but one of the mildest. Eventually his eyes flutter open and-

This early in the morning, everything he's had on his mind? He can't hide the immediate affection and relief in his gaze, looking up at Jim. For half a second he can imagine this is how they are, tangled close and comfortable, like he's not a man with an expiration date.