When Jack woke up, it was to a dirty, bloody, tired Lexa curled in a corner of the dark studio. It wasn't the furthest corner from him, but she'd squeezed herself as far as she could go into it, careful distance separating them. One knee was propped up, while the other rested on the side. An arm was thrown carelessly over the higher knee, and Lexa's head was bowed, face pressed into her thin shoulder as a makeshift pillow. She was tantalizingly close to sleep when she heard a sound.

Her head immediately shot up and her muscles tensed. Amber eyes flashed the briefest gold in the darkness. Then her gaze found Jack's body, so still it could've been dead. And she saw the slight rise of his chest. A feeling she wouldn't dare name washed over her, easing the tension she wore like armor. The brief flash of adrenaline was gone as quickly as it'd come, leaving an undeniable need to rest in its wake. But more than that, a curious [i]willingness[/i] to rest. She closed her eyes for a long moment and then forced them open again to look at Jack, alive against all odds.

[color=crimson]"You're like a damn cockroach,"[/color] she said quietly, voice a broken rasp. Lexa honestly didn't think he'd make it. She knew she had to check on him, let him know he was safe for the time being, see about getting him some proper medical care. But Lexa couldn't move from her spot in the corner. Her body was frozen in time, refusing to close the distance.