Sometimes, John looked at his scars. Carson had done a good job with the stitches, so they were mostly thin red lines tracing across his skin. There were much worse ones already written on John well before the Kasiia had gotten their fists on him.

He was especially fond of the ones on his left wrist. Once the cast had come off, the scars were livid, marking the spots where the pins and screws and a couple of small plates had reassembled broken bones like puzzle pieces. Rodney had cradled the abused wrist in large warm hands, wrapping his thumb and middle finger below John's hand to measure, then doing the same to the other side before frowning at the size difference.

"How's it feel?" Rodney asked.

"Stiff, sore." John flexed it, feeling the creak of tendons and the resistance from a joint unused to movement. "Numb."

"Carson says you'll get full feeling back. Eventually." Rodney reached out to capture John's hand, cradling it in his palm, thumb rubbing over the scar lines.

Rodney bent his head and kissed John's fingertips gently in turn, and John smiled down at the top of his head. "I'm feeling more already."