A small accident with time, space and that strange dimension which socks are always vanishing into.

((Also known as 'Attack of the Mun-Made Contrived Plot Device' and 'Possible Travelling Systems for Living Socks'. Yes, I know, this is completely contrived and quite a bit of a cliche, not to mention so completely unexplained that it makes plot holes as large as France. I promise to never to do something like this again and you have permission to beat me to death with my own limbs.))

Atton read through the note again before carefully folding it up and putting it in his pocket. He was deep in the woods around the lake, how deep he didn’t know, but he had been walking for a while now, away from the bar, and he could no longer see it.

He took a long look at the necklace before quickly putting that in his pocket as well and continuing his walk. Minutes passed, ten, twenty ...

Atton stopped.

( There was a sock. )

OOM: Telos Citadel Station.

Two and a half weeks.

Atton eyes flew open.

Bright lights. Machines. Soft bed.

Atton sat up, staring round him. He recognised this place, with it’s nondescript orange and white walls. Who was it who thought that orange and white was a good colour scheme for a station? Whoever it was should have been shot as soon as they had suggested it.

Shouldn’t he be in a morgue?

He checked his limbs and his eye. Sure enough they were all there, as if they had never gone.

“Where am I?” Stupid question, he knew the answer.

“Kindly Response: Citadel Station on Telos, Mr. Rand, you’ve been in a coma for the past week - two and a half weeks if you consider the time spent on Mr. Disciple’s ship,” A droid said, shuffling up to him. It wasn’t HK-47, or any of the HK-50s, but rather a medical droid of some sort. Atton couldn’t help but be unnerved by it’s speech patterns and voice, though, it had come to associate that sound with death and destruction. “Pleased Statement: I’m so glad you’re awake, Mr. Rand, I will contact Mr. Disciple immediately.”

As the nurse hurried off, Atton lay back and breathed deeply. He was back. And alive. And limbful.

Woot, limbs.