Yeah, not moving sounded like a perfect idea. Every ache came alive at once. He was sure he had cracked ribs, every muscle in him sore to the point of making twitching his fingers painful. But at least he could feel his fingers, wiggle his toes inside of his boots. No paralysis then. No more agonizing pain beyond the desire to lay very flat and very still for a month.

Eyes the color of the bluest stars looked up at Malcolm, wet still from tears, but clear. His tongue darted out across his lips, staring at the other man like he was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. And god but he was. Another face - eyes, nose, mouth. A voice. Damn it was beautiful. He was beautiful.

Malcolm's touch burned. Hot against skin grown cold within the void between times. But he welcomed it, almost pushed into with a desperate shudder of a whine.

"Contact Star Fleet," he said, his voice steadier now. "I need to contact them, tell them I made it." A pause, considering the idea that stars were above him. "What planet is this?"