Not a time to Celebrate

[smartass_captain]

Jim's made it. Holidays are done, big damn speech over, all without alerting the crew to how detached their Captain has become in the last week and a half. With all the extra shifts he'd taken on over Christmas, it would be easy to assume Bones made him take the day off to rest and recuperate.

They'd be wrong.

Bones knew Jim wouldn't be on shift on the Fourth. He never does much of anything that day. If the end of December drains the light out of the Captain's smile, then the first week of January looks like it's killing him. He and Spock tried to get him out of his quarters and focused on something--anything else. But Jim's shut himself away in his room. There's a holo set up on his desk of a man who looks an awful lot like Jim, standing happily beside his mother.

Jim stares at it from his seat, before burying his head in his hands. His birthday isn't something to celebrate. It's a reminder of the tragedy that changed everything.

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[conjuredskies]

It's the simplest explanation. Felix stares over the message for a minute, frets briefly over what it could mean. The frustrating part with these quick little texts is they convey nothing about tone and attitude; he could glean so much more from such cues. He worries briefly that this at last is his subtle hint to back off - then reminds himself that Jim doesn't trouble with subtlety.

It still seems ambiguous whether he's been given an invitation or an excuse; he decides to gamble on it being the former. He wants to check how Jim is, if he accomplishes nothing else. He pulls on his Earth/space clothes and shoves a few smaller phials into his alcohol-laden satchel.

Only at the next-to-last minute does he reply: Then I know where to find you.

He's not giving Jim time to object before he shows up in person.

[smartass_captain]

Jim's phone buzzes and is ignored. Either it's Verity asking him for things or Felix asking him what's wrong and Jim just...can't. Not today. There's a holo image if a man who looks remarkably like Jim standing next to what must be a younger Winona Kirk all smiles. Both of them in their Starfleet cadet uniforms. Jim's been staring at it for a while now, while slowly working on the bottle of bourbon Scotty had gotten him for Christmas.

It's the only link Jim has with his father. And this is a well practiced birthday ritual for Jim. He rests his head in his hands a moment, muttering something or other under his breath. When he looks up again, Felix is in his room and Jim startles visibly, nearly falling out of his chair.

yay html

[conjuredskies]

His mouth quirks slightly: there's at least one question answered. At least Jim is upright?

"I didn't quite count on that reaction," he observes ruefully. He notices the picture too - is that Winona? Smiling? Hm. Felix takes a moment to unsling his bag as he comes over, giving Jim time to hide the image if he'd rather not risk discussing it.

[smartass_captain]

Jim hasn't thought to hide the holo. His mouth is snapping open and closed like a fish, and he's blinking rapidly while he tries to process this. Jim locked his quarters down. How? How is anyone in here, let alone Felix?

The PINppoint Jim. You gave it to him less than three weeks ago.

"What?" The stupid reaction is the only one the captain manages, vaguely aware by the smell that hes spilled his drink.

[conjuredskies]

Which makes Felix aware that clever games just aren't going to happen here. He sets the clinking bag down; if Jim isn't holding it, he reaches over to set the spilled glass upright.

"I sent you a message," he reminds gently. Or possibly explains: he's getting the impression at least one of his texts went astray. One thing at a time. "Is there a cloth for that?"

[smartass_captain]

"What? Oh...Shit." Jim pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs heavily. "That's good stuff too. Dammit." Felix will be encouraged to taste it later. Right now Jim's focused on cleaning up.

"I got th'first one."

[conjuredskies]

"Sorry about that. The good news is, I brought plenty more." Besides one or two more literally medicinal draughts. He's using the cleanup time to look Jim over. The drink is one thing, but when was the last time he slept?

"Ah. I sent another, but it doesn't matter. Perhaps it wouldn't have helped anyway."

[smartass_captain]

"Oh...yeah it did buzz again. I didn't look yet." Jim's certainly looked worse, but definitely not in the time Felix has known him. He's got clear signs of exhaustion and he's definitely not sober. He doesn't look drunk yet--Jim hasn't been drinking that long.

He finally seems to notice the holo of his parents is still up and Jim pauses again to stare at his father's face before shutting it off.

"There's more bourbon. 'm just sad I wasted any of it. Was a present from a friend."

[conjuredskies]

Felix nods. He's seen people in a mood to drink their sorrows into oblivion before. But they were rarely his business in any way. Seeing Jim in this state gives him pangs of concern. Just how bad are the memories haunting him?

"It's a shame." He sidles up to Jim and slips an arm around his back. "Your father?"

He's judging his tone very carefully: inquisitive, so Jim knows he's willing to listen, without getting interrogative. Some people prefer to talk about what's on their mind, but Jim can brush him off easily enough if he's not one of them.

[smartass_captain]

"...Yeah. S'my old man." Jim's gaze stutters, from where the holo was to the floor and then up again. "He uh...he died so his crew could evacuate form the ship. ...The day I was born, I mean."

Shrug. Everyone knows what happened, at least Starfleet. No reason to hide that bit of info. Jim runs his hand through his hair and sighs.

"Sorry." Explaining why? That would be for people who are thinking about anything but their own inner demons.

[conjuredskies]

"He sounds an honorable man," he says quietly. The explanation sort of makes things simpler. Dead heroes - dead kinsmen, at least - and the grief they leave behind are something he's used to seeing and sympathizing over.

But it's more complicated for Jim, he realizes. At a time when people are accustomed to celebrate, in a culture where one's birthday is an occasion for more revelry again...

...Wait, 'sorry'?

"I barged in on you," he points out mildly. "If anyone owes an apology, I do."

[smartass_captain]

"I'm told he was. I never knew 'im." Maybe if he'd been around, his mother wouldn't have turned out this way. She never could look at Jim without seeing his father. Never could make it through his birthday without breaking down. Eventually she just stopped coming back to Iowa for it.

"Sorry cuz I don't do my birthday. It's..not a day to celebrate. I know I did yours, but..." Jim shrugs. He's tried, but he can't sleep. The nightmares are so bad this time of year.

[conjuredskies]

"Mm. Strange how you can be so close to someone you only know by reputation." He almost smiles at that.

"Everything has its time. We'll have better days to celebrate." Felix says it as if he's sure. He really hopes it's true. "I'm more interested in what I can do for you just now. Whether you'd prefer company, or... or solitude. I don't know if you have any prayers or rituals planned..."

Not that Jim's ever mentioned such things, but it would be a reasonable guess back home. This is uncharted territory for Felix, his first glimpse of a side to Jim that's been kept very well hidden. He's just praying not to screw up too badly.

[smartass_captain]

"..I'm not. That's all I've got of him." Jim looks away and sighs. Runs his hand through his hair back and forth enough times that Felix could be forgiven if he suspects Jim is trying to light his head on fire by friction alone.

He wants to tell Felix to get lost. Doesn't want him to see Jim like this. but too fucking late now, right? And if he tells him to fuck off...will he even come back? Ever?
The idea of Felix leaving today of all days makes it hard to breathe. Calm down Jim. Don't have a panic attack now.

"No--it's fine. Stay. You brought booze, yeah? I've got some too. Sure. Great, even." What is he saying? He's going to make a fool out of himself and fuck this up. But he doesn't know what else to do...

[conjuredskies]

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, frowning to himself. It almost makes sense - did Winona seem the type to teach her son family stories, or encourage blood ties in general? And her grief must have been terrible. Yet Felix can't quite fathom it. It's about the opposite of his family's approach.

And then he's giving Jim a worried look, because his question only seems to shake him more. Talos damn it, that was not the plan! But Jim wants him to stay. At least he sounds like he means it.

Felix decides not to question it mostly because he seriously doesn't want to leave the captain right now.

"Sure," he echoes, giving Jim as reassuring a smile as he can. He pulls away long enough to pull the satchel over and produce a bottle for inspection. "The finest Colovian brandy, commandeered not two hours past."

[smartass_captain]

"Kentucky Bourbon." Jim replies, holding up the bottle he'd been working at before Felix showed up. Jim moves away from the desk and takes a seat on the small excuse for a couch he has in his quarters. He's brought the glass he'd been drinking from, as well as another one for Felix.

"Gifted about a week ago, but it's the real deal. Not replicated."

[conjuredskies]

"How very legitimate-sounding. Though what would replicated mean?" He settles down beside Jim, breaking his bottle's seal and loosening the stopper. "Trade?"

[smartass_captain]

"I'll show you later. It means reproduced by a machine made of sadness." Jim hands the bottle over and accepts the one Felix is holding in return.

"...They have drinking games where you're from? Or is this more of a trade shots and stories until we're fucked."

[conjuredskies]

"A terrible thing to do to a good drink." He pours out a little bourbon, curious to inspect it.

"I'm fond of games, though I didn't bring dice or anything." He doubts either of them is in the mood for riddle games. "I regret to say I haven't needed them for a while."

[smartass_captain]

"Guess it'd fit right in with what I was already doing if we just drink in silence like the sad fuck I am." Jim sighs, rests his head on his arm for a moment before he pours himself a bit of the brandy.

Hopefully they have sarcasm in Tamriel, because Jim's monotone 'yaaaay' before he downs the shot is so sarcastic you can taste it.

[conjuredskies]

"They don't all need dice," Felix points out. "Or pots, or cards." He studies Jim for a moment over his glass, unsettled by the captain's uncharacteristic flash of self-dislike. At least, it seems uncharacteristic to him. And right now he thinks it a passing twinge.

Well, down with the bourbon, which turns out to be as strong as he was expecting, and interestingly woody. Felix savors it respectfully, then shuffles a little closer to Jim.

"Do you have the Dragon-Chicken-Stone-Sword game? That's an easy one."

[smartass_captain]

Oh Felix, you have no idea. If Self hatred was Jim's birthday cake, this is only the sprinkles atop the icing of loathing,

"S'good brandy." Jim comments a moment or two later, staring into his cup. "Your brother's gonna be pissed." Might as well have some more. Felix gets a glance, but there isn't any of the light that's normally in Jim's blue eyes, nor the smile he wears so often.

"I don't, but I can learn. Genius repeat offender from Iowa. How d'you play?"

[conjuredskies]

"He hardly needs it. He's off pretending to enjoy dozens of official parties." Arguably he deserves all the booze for that, but Stratos is the least of Felix's concerns here. Besides, he's seen what the tribune gets paid.

He's disappointed not to get a smile. Jim hardly seems to have anything in him, as if exhaustion and sorrow have drained the life out. Perhaps if Felix can coax his attention to simple harmless amusements, he'll at least have some respite from whatever troubles his spirit.

"We’ll have to play properly, since we’re only two.” Jim won't find this game so strange, though. Felix sets the bottle safely aside so he can show Jim a set of hand gestures: fingers curled, pinched, flat, clenched, spread. “Dragon, chicken, sword, stone, spring. You tap the count of four, then the players all call out their choices. If you pick dragon, it beats the chicken and stone, but if I pick the spring or sword, I beat you, and so on. In my hometown people usually play it wrong to make sure everyone 'loses' as often as possible."

[smartass_captain]

Complex JanKenPon. Okay, Jim can do this. He scoots the bottle of brandy over and mimics the hand gestures a few times until he more or less has it memorized.

"Are there penalties for losing aside from drinking?" His lips twitch in what might have been the beginnings of a smile, but it hardly counts. Even his eyebrow game is weak today.

"Loser has t'tell a secret or do something or what."

[conjuredskies]

"If you like. Some of the options I wouldn't call penalties, exactly..." If Jim can't muster a smile, Felix will supply a smirk of his own, gently teasing, "Although if you'd prefer trying to win a few secrets from me, I'm game."

If he knew just how Jim feels talking about himself right now, Felix might be wiser than to countenance that option. He's just avoiding any penalties that might put too much pressure on a man who'd rather shut himself in a wine cellar.