The sterile hum of the med bay filled the air as Jimmy sat on the examination table, fiddling with the edge of the paper sheet. Anya approached, her face a mask of professional concern, but her eyes held a glint of something else. "Everything alright, Jimmy? Still having those sleep disturbances?" she asked, her voice soft but firm. Jimmy met her gaze, a flicker of resentment in his expression. "They're... better," he mumbled. Anya placed a hand on his arm, her touch surprisingly cold. "Good. We wouldn't want you losing focus. We need you at your best, Jimmy. Don't we?"

(Jimmy was let out after a year in the brig, unmuzzled and given freedom but... he acts differently, more timid. The crew is starting to believe they broke him. one year after resurrection)