Therapy Session's a Two-Drink Minimum (for boldygoing )

[smartass_captain]

You'd think this would be easier.

Find a place that's safe and quiet. Out of the way where neither of them has to be 'On' and neither of them has to worry about being bothered. Dig out a chess set, get a couple of drinks (make sure a certain Jim doesn't get too many drinks), and there you go. There's just one small problem with this idea.

There isn't a safe place anymore.

Jim's barely been able to hold still in the Nexus and he's already so high energy that some of the denizens don't think he's capable of sitting down. He doubts his counterpart is having an easier time of it. Jim's forgotten which of them came up with the idea. Inclined to think it was himself, but then he's pretty sure the younger one would say the same so who even knows.

They'll hash out the details as they go. Jim locks his quarters with his override code before shooting a set of PINpoint coordinates to his counterpart.

Chess set's set up. We doing this?

Comments

[boldygoing]

It's so familiar. Even though he hasn't done it himself, it sounds so much like something he'd do. He hadn't thought too much about what it would be like, knowing damn well that it is going to be the hardest part of the inspection to endure, but he hadn't really considered the sensory details. The sound of footsteps on steel grating, like the other captain has said. The smell of industrial lubricants and coolant, the almost blinding lights, the way the open spaces tend to echo and amplify every sound.

It makes his whole body ache just thinking about it. Phantom, remembered pain, sinking deep into his bones as the minutes passed, or bursting with a startling suddenness when the core finally aligned and flung him dozens of feet, cracking vertebrae against durasteel. He doesn't remember it all, but his body remembers more than enough.

The older captain is right.

Without something to force him to deal with it, why would he try? Not when it's easier to just avoid the beating heart of his own ship, to do everything in his power to stay out of engineering and far away from that terrible reminder of the steep price he had to pay for his failure.

He swallows, raising his eyes to meet the other's, uncertain. "...what'd you do?"

[smartass_captain]

"Hey."

The patronizing platitudes don't come. Jim doesn't tell him 'it's okay' knowing damn well it isn't. He stays leaning forward like he is. Blue eyes piercing as they hold the younger captain's attention.

"You don't have to do it all at once." Waiting until the walk through of the ship had been twenty kinds of stupid which is why Jim's reaching out like this.

Jim remembers the buzzing in his ears of his own dying desperation to finish the job. Save the ship. Get out of the core while he could still breathe. Remembers his vision webbing at the edges when they asked him if he had any questions. Blowing them off, making excuses about paperwork and inventories. His knees collapsing underneath him before the door to his quarters was even shut. The sobs and screams he muffled with his hands until he was too weak to make them anymore. Waking up on the floor however long after and knowing he shouldn't be alive.

He shouldn't be alive, but he is.

"Make time to see Scotty. Ask about the repairs to the ship. Put yourself in a safe place and and then ask about his work in engineering. You won't be there on the ship. You'll be somewhere safe, far from it. Make a habit out of it, ask him for regular updates. The more he talks the easier it gets. We used to love engineering, you know? I can go down there now and be fine. The only place that bothers me still is the door but even that I can handle."

They're Captain James Tiberius Kirk of the Enterprise and no part of the ship--their ship--is going to own them.

"You have to make a point of going there for other reasons. Helping Scotty out on a pet project or another of his. Making time to get to know the new recruits assigned there. Any excuse to get you in there and out safely again."

[boldygoing]

It helps to know that there are no nonsensical soothing words coming, no cliche sympathies delivered by someone ignorant of the suffering he endured, both then and now, even months after the fact. It's someone who knows, knows more than even he does, a glimpse at the ordeal still to come through familiar eyes.

Jim hates slow recoveries. Hates how he has to drag himself to every milestone, inch by inch, weighted down by his own body and mind. It took years to be okay after Tarsus, having to face what he'd suffered every meal of every day, a constant reminder that he could never escape. He'd gotten past it because he had to.

He hadn't ever thought he'd need to do the same again.

It would be so easy to just avoid Engineering completely, most of the time. But... when he can't... No buffer, no good memories built on top of the bad ones, a lasting impression of an agonizing death, a hand pressed against the glass separating him from the last human contact he'd ever have. The fear, not knowing what awaited him in the darkness closing its jaws around him, knowing only that he would be facing it alone.

Just like his father had.

His knuckles are white where his hands grasp one another, bracing himself in his seat, and listens. Listens to the one person who has been right where he is now, all the things he'd wished that he'd done, second-guesses and regrets. He doesn't want to. But maybe the alternative is worse.

He manages to nod, hesitant, almost mechanical. Struggling to force himself to accept that it's good advice, that it will help prepare him for a reality that he doesn't want to face. But if he wants to stay captain, if he wants to lead the five-year mission... he has to. "One step at a time, huh?" He doesn't bother to force a smile. No need to pretend. Not here.

[smartass_captain]

"I had to do it if I was going to get back to the ship. Had to keep doing it to help when people needed me in the Nexus until I found out about PINpoints. I broke down so many times but it helped."

Without that need, how long could Jim have put off going back down there again? Convinced himself it wasn't really that big of a deal?

"Things are going to go wrong on the mission. You know that already. What happens when there's someone infected on the ship who gets away and runs to engineering to hide out in a jeffries tube? What happens when we get attacked and someone has to go down there and help? What happens if something happens to Scotty or Keenser and no one else knows the ship better than you? Does it matter if any or all of those things have happened to me?"

Jim shakes his head.

"It doesn't. You have to be ready. This is your ship and these are your crew. They're relying on you. Yes we died there. It's not gonna be easy and it's not gonna come quickly. But you can start now and save yourself months of fucking agony."

Jim has to stop speaking. Ducks his head and closes both hands into tight fists against his knees. His own knuckles just as white as his younger counterparts' are. He's already changing the future in ways he can't predict but goddammit, after everything they just lived through, this is one pain Jim wants to make easier for the other.

"I wish I'd done it sooner." It's barely above a whisper. Jim doesn't elaborate.

[boldygoing]

He doesn't elaborate, and Jim doesn't ask. They're treading on thin enough ice as it is, meddling in an alternate timeline. Like they haven't done that before.

He's been deluding himself for a while. Pretending there isn't a problem, putting it off 'til later. But his older companion is right. An emergency is a shitty time to find out that he can't deal with it. Over four hundred lives could depend on him being able to set foot in Engineering without breaking down. And it really doesn't matter if it's happened to the other captain or not. He has to be ready for anything.

And purposefully avoiding his fears will do him no favors, no matter how much he wishes otherwise.

He has no comfort to offer, nor none to take. If it was anyone else, he wouldn't even be having this conversation. He would've shut down, slammed the door in their face, and continued to build his walls higher and higher, ignoring the crumbling foundation beneath.

But this isn't anyone else.

"I'll... send a message to Scotty tomorrow," he decides, hesitant, fighting to keep the tremor from his voice. He's spoken to the engineer since waking up in the hospital, but not like this. Not with the intent of exposing himself to the place where he died, piece by piece.

[smartass_captain]

"It's your choice. I spent the last few days thinking about whether or not I should even bring this up." Jim doesn't need his counterpart to promise him anything. He's certainly not the other's parent, commanding officer, or even family. They're something else. Right now a something uniquely qualified to be talking to the other one.

Neither of them has any experience in dealing with psychology, but since neither would talk to one in the first place it hardly matters. This is as close to therapy as they're going to get.

"We...can keep playing in silence if you'd rather. Or, we can skip the next game and you can ask me something back. This really shouldn't count as a match since I was showing you Spock's gambit."

[boldygoing]

"No, you... you did the right thing." He meets the eyes of the man across the table, and even if he doesn't like the message one bit, even Jim Kirk knows how to listen to himself. Sometimes when he won't, or can't, listen to anyone else. He doesn't feel pressured to agree for any other reason than that he's right.

His mistakes have already led to the deaths of ninety-six crew. Ninety-seven, if he counts himself. He can't let it happen again. Not when there's something he can do about it.

Is there nothing you would not do for your family...?

He shakes his head a little, as if trying to dislodge that thought, the memory slithering unwanted into his mind. He doesn't particularly want the conversation to stop completely, leaving him with nothing but his own thoughts to keep him company. And he's pretty sure he knows where his mind will go, after this. Which old wounds will ache in the wake of being poked and prodded.

Old wounds... Jim's hand drifts up to his shoulder on reflex, even though the bite has healed over, leaving only pinkish scars that should fade with time. There is something he's been wondering, unsure if he wants to know the answer. The other captain hasn't held it against him, not that he's noticed, but... "After I... got bitten... did I hurt you?"

[smartass_captain]

The captain's gaze follows the bearded Jim's hand as it moves over the wound Harrowheart inflicted on him in the nightmare. His eyes narrow in concern. Surely that hadn't carried over here, right? He was normal when they finally woke inside the cafe. How can he ask something like that? It was his fault the other one got bitten in the first place.

"You sure as fuck tried." There's only the barest bits of forced humor in Jim's voice now. He doesn't want his younger companion to have nightmares over this, too. Best to make as light of it as he can. If he doesn't remember, Jim would rather this be one nightmare only He has. "We played grab-ass in the house I was trying to break us into to hide. I sliced open my palm with your knife and rubbed my blood over anything I could get my hands on, then shut you in when you were busy sniffing around."

See? No big deal. Jim's perfectly fine.

"Was kinda sweet really, how you didn't want me to leave your side even like that."

[boldygoing]

He can tell there's more to it than that, knows all too well what it looks like when he's pretending everything's fine, but the news itself is certainly welcome. And explains a few things about what he does remember about that part of the night. Jim drops his hand again, self-conscious, the smallest of weights lifting off his shoulders.

Though that last comment has him damn near doing a double take. Sweet? Come on. But... if the older captain can at least pretend to laugh it off, maybe he can try to do the same. It's certainly one way to cope, and it's not like there's any psychiatric guidelines on dealing with post-lycanthropy anyway. "Well, wolves are pack animals, right?" We go together, or not at all...

He has to do something with his hands, too uneasy to sit still, so he slowly begins resetting the chessboard. "It's all kinda bits and pieces. I've had some weird dreams... mostly chasing something." Frustration. Hunger. Loneliness. Nothing truly new, but devoid of any clear context, and with an unnerving new twist. He's not sure he wants to know all the details, but... knowing that he didn't hurt his companion makes a difference, no matter how hard the beast tried.

[smartass_captain]

Jim nearly quips that he must have smelled Felix's spectral wolf on Jim but stops himself. He hadn't seen Felix in weeks at the time, and while he's fine playing this off he doesn't feel nearly as fine joking about the mage. He shrugs again instead and leans back in his seat once more. Returns to showering Crookshanks in scratches and soaking up the purrs the big orange cat is making now that the tension is easing in the air again.

"Proud to be part of yours then. You were focused on me. I made sure to keep your attention."

The only time he hadn't was at the end when he passed out, but Amelia had that under control. If she turned and ran after smashing those oils on the younger captain's muzzle there's no way he'd have caught her. Jim knows from experience how light the rogue can be on her feet.

"It's...gone, though. Right?"

[boldygoing]

The hesitant question reminds him so much of the stifling uncertainty that next morning at breakfast, dreading to find out if the beast still lurked inside of him, just waiting for another chance to get out, and he immediately nods. "Yeah, it's gone. Hermione checked. I'll have a weird scar but that's it." Physically, anyway, and maybe even that will eventually fade in time.

He's forgotten the name of the worgen that bit him, lost in the chaos that had immediately followed hearing it, but it seems right to ask, anyway. "Is your friend okay? I mean, I assume he's not usually like that."

[smartass_captain]

"What do you have against dermal regenerators, anyway?"

Maybe he likes having the reminder of the shit he's survived. Jim knows he sure as fuck doesn't. Between Bones and Felix's magic Jim's made damn sure that all his scars stay firmly on the inside, even if it took some cosmetic surgery after Tarsus. Show no weakness. Let no one see just how broken Jim really is. It may have been his mother's idea originally, but Jim's long since convinced himself this is his choice.

Though the question about Harrowheart makes Jim's chest tighten uncomfortably. He shakes his head and looks away.

"I haven't seen him. I haven't....been back to the Nexus, since. So I don't know. I hope he's alright. He's usually loud and friendly and boisterous. But he--I." Jim runs his free hand through his hair several times, messing it up. "He was tangled into the mess Felix was in, too. Before all of this. He's had a shit couple of months too. I hope he's okay now."

[boldygoing]

He shrugs, as if it doesn't bother him, a faint, false smile on his lips. "Couldn't always get to one before stuff started to heal on its own." Didn't always have one of his own either, and he certainly didn't trust doctors, not after Tarsus especially. It's taken him years to get to a point where he'll let McCoy treat him without a fuss, and even then, sometimes he thinks it's blown out of proportion. "I wasn't about to go right home and let Bones see me like that, either." He wasn't in any fit state to explain then, and he really doesn't want to explain now, either. Sure, the doctor is bound to notice at his next medical exam, but it's a hell of a lot easier to brush off a healed injury than one that's still bleeding.

It isn't that he wants the reminder. But he can't erase what happened by waving a magic wand over his body, not when the scars are left even deeper, where no one can see. It's not like he can forget. What would be the point now?

He frowns in concern, but he nods a little. He doesn’t know what happened, and he knows better than to ask. No one seems to have escaped the Nightmare unscathed, and Jim can certainly understand the need to retreat and break down away from prying eyes, no matter how friendly they are. “I haven’t been back yet either. It’s too...” He trails off, not sure what word he’s even searching for, and finally just settles for a shrug.

[smartass_captain]

"Sorry." Wrong thing to ask, judging by his counterpart's expression. It's so weird finding things they don't agree on. Jim has to learn how to keep his damn mouth shut rather than mouth off the second he spots something different between the two of them. "I've gotten so used to hiding everything that's wrong with me, I balked when I realized you didn't."

It's alarming to know the other captain hasn't been back to the Nexus either. He's got so much more free time than Jim does. If either of them could go back to the Nexus reliably, well. But he's been through the same shit Jim has and more with the whole worgen thing. It's a good thing he doesn't remember most of it.

"I want to get me in order first before I head back there." It's only part of the reason, but Jim doesn't want to worry the other. The bearded captain's crew knows more about the Nexus and other worlds than Jim's does. They might take it better.

[boldygoing]

So much for not making things awkward. Jim fidgets with one of the chess pieces, rather than placing it on the board, trying to figure out what to say. He's never really had to explain it before. "It's not that I want to show it off, or anything. I just... I can't zap away the shit in my head either, and it's not like most people are gonna see it anyway. Never seemed worth letting some doctor get their hands on me just to get rid of stuff that's already healed so I don't have to look at it." His smile is a little less brittle this time, not quite as uneasy. "If it was on my face, that'd be a whole other story. I could put up with it for that."

He finally places the last chess piece back where it belongs, and leaves the white side of the board pointed toward the older captain. Like he said, it wasn't like it was a real game, after all.

The reason given for not returning is relatable, at least, even if he doesn't know the rest of it. Or that there is more to it than the obvious. "I hear you there." Bad enough trying to get his shit together without an audience, and he decides not to ask how that's been working out, being on the Enterprise and everything. He can take a hell of a good guess without making things worse by pointing it out.

[smartass_captain]

"I didn't want anyone to ask. Didn't want to risk that box being opened up even a little bit. After...the stuff I told you last time, I didn't want to be seen as weak. Broken. Easy prey." Though he gives the younger captain a nod of complete understanding when he mentions the face. No need to explain any more there. They can claim professionalism and setting an example all they want but they don't have to. No one's going to judge them here for admitting to each other that one does not mess with the face of Jim Kirk.

It is an asset to these vain men.

Jim wastes no time in moving one of his pawns two spaces forward, falling back on his own favored plays this time. He feels drained, just like he had been after their session before. But like before there's also a budding sense of freedom at airing some of this laundry out in the only safe place they've got.

"Is there any way I can get another cup of that coffee...?" Jim looks around carefully. He didn't want to assume but frankly if he could take the caffeine intravenously he'd be doing it already just to stay awake.

[boldygoing]

It's strange sometimes, to find these little things where they're the opposite sides of a coin, rather than a mirror. A tiny decision here, one little event there, a butterfly flapping its wings to cause a hurricane. And yet they've still managed to walk down the same road, ended up in the same places, with the same people. Mostly. Enough that it doesn't matter all that much. That he can look at the other and trace it back, and see how easily he could have made the same choices, ended up in the same circumstances, if things had been even slightly different.

So he just nods, completely understanding where the older captain is coming from, even if he doesn't share the same opinion for himself.

It's a relief to return to the chess game, leaving the darker shit behind, rather than hanging over his head. Even though it's been hell to get through sometimes, their sessions have been more of a help than he'd ever be willing to admit to any shrink. He can't talk about this with anyone else. Wouldn't even want to.

Jim eyes the board, making sure this isn't going to be a repeat of the same crushing strategy from before, before he too moves a pawn. "Yeah, have as much as you want. I can make more if the pot's low." He hasn't kept track of how much they've had, though he wouldn't be surprised to learn that his companion has drank the bulk of what was made.

[smartass_captain]

They both know how little the other one is likely to be sleeping these days and frankly Jim's not gotten more than a night's worth of sleep in the five days that they've not seen each other and it wasn't consecutive. He's running on caffeine and sheer willpower at this point. Not having to freak out about staying together for an entire shift is making it easier to relax in his seat despite the heavy subject matter.

Crookshanks warming his leg and purring nonstop is also helping tremendously.

The game should be easier for the younger captain to follow and plan ahead with. The tactics area bit more refined from years of practice, but he will be able to guess at what the older captain is thinking based on his plays. Much easier than he could with the gambit Jim was showing him earlier at least.

"Sorry. It's really good." The unspoken other reason doesn't need to be said. The circles under Jim's eyes say more than enough.

[boldygoing]

If only McCoy could see them now, he'd be bitching about caffeine consumption and lack of quality REM sleep until the cows came home. But Jim's been there before too. Still is, in some ways. The sleeping potion might make him feel more rested, but it doesn't do a damn thing to filter out any of the shit his subconscious is throwing at him. Even if he gets up physically feeling like he's slept through the night, that doesn't mean he's at all eager to throw himself into that never-ending loop of dream and memory every night, unable to even wake up when things get too intense.

Yeah, he absolutely gets why coffee is his companion's lifeblood at the moment.

"Don't worry 'bout it. I've got a good supply." Gotta enjoy the real stuff while he's Earthside, after all.

This game seems fairly less challenging, but that's not a bad thing, not after everything they've been through. It's actually kinda relaxing, something that's sorely needed. Jim shifts one of his pieces before picking up the empty coffee pot and moving to fill it back up. It's probably not healthy, but fuck it, none of this has been.

[smartass_captain]

Jim's able to switch gears and play more fast and loose with this game than he had been before. Definitely still trying to win, but relying solely on his experience and comfortable strategies. It gives him one more sense of security. One more comfort in a world that's been more broken glass and metal shards of late.

The game is paused while the younger captain moves to refill the coffee. Jim leans back in his seat and glances up at the ceiling. Absently strokes Crookshanks and takes in the warmth and purring of the cat in his lap. Tries and fails to stifle a yawn.

The apartment is quiet.

Safe.

Jim's hand grows still.

[boldygoing]

The smell of freshly brewed coffee had already permeated the small apartment, so fetching up a new pot only reinforces the aroma. It's a few minutes before the brew is ready, and Jim brings it over to the table, ready to top up both their mugs and resume the game.

He's just opening his mouth to comment on the state of the board when he notices the other captain's eyes are closed, his head tipped back to rest against the back of the couch, his breathing steady and even. If he's not already asleep, he's sure as hell on his way there in a hurry.

Jim eyes the orange cat draped across his companion's lap, and mouths, "This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" Crookshanks just blinks at him innocently, the soothing purring never once ceasing.

Well. Far be it from him to ruin what might possibly be the first bit of decent sleep the other captain's had since the Nightmare. Jim tops off his own mug and sets down the coffeepot as quietly as he can, before stepping away to find a blanket and his padd. The former, to lightly drape over his counterpart (and the cat in his lap), and the latter to work on grading final term papers. Might as well get a little work done rather than just sit vigil and make things even more awkward whenever his companion awakes.

[smartass_captain]

The apartment is quiet.

Crookshanks has only moved to get out from under the blanket so he can flop atop it and wriggle himself a little blanket nest in Jim's lap. The captain doesn't stir. Without the mask of bravado they wear, asleep like this, Jim looks so much more vulnerable. Exhausted. Stretched too thin.

An hour passes. Then two. The sun shines through the window behind Jim and catches on his hair. He doesn't seem to be having a troubled sleep, either. No tossing and turning. No half aborted words mumbled out. The only sounds he makes are tiny snores every so often when his mouth falls open slightly.

It's late in the afternoon when Jim's eyes snap open. Wide blue eyes scanning the room before he's awake enough to process what he's seeing. He doesn't know where this is. The tension is a full bodied one, every muscle freezing as Jim's gaze sweeps the surroundings. It's the chess set that catches his eye first.

Slowly. Painfully slowly he lets out the breath trapped in his lungs.

"...'llo?" His voice is rough from sleep and cautious.

[boldygoing]

It's honestly a surprise that the older captain doesn't even twitch, as time goes by. More than once, Jim is tempted to make sure he's all right, a nagging paranoia that maybe it's more than just sleep, but the small snores make it obvious enough that he's still breathing. And... really, he sleeps like that? Why is this the first time he's finding this out?

He shakes his head a little and stretches out on the loveseat, cup of coffee at his elbow, and begins reading.

It's surprisingly easy to lose track of time. He's about halfway through grading when sudden movement catches his eye, a familiar full-body jerk as his companion snaps to full consciousness, if not full alertness. Jim doesn't move, doesn't make any gestures that might come across as threatening before recognition can sink in, knowing damn well how disorienting and alarming it feels to wake up somewhere unfamiliar. Especially when he didn't mean to nod off. "Welcome back," he says calmly, letting the other get his bearings at his own pace.

[smartass_captain]

"...Gh."

His legs are asleep. Neck stiffer than a board. But Jim blinks and the pressure behind his eyes is gone. The yanking feeling of nodding off and being unable to stop himself faded away to nothingness. There are no screams echoing in his head, no cruel smiles or monsters chasing him to the world of the wakeful.

Sleep like this only comes when Jim is worn down to the point of passing out, which he must have obviously done. He doesn't remember drifting off. When did he get a blanket?

"Shitfuck. I'm. Sorry, I didn't mean..." The captain scrubs his hand down his face. Gods but he needed that. So badly. "You shoulda woke me up."

[boldygoing]

That earns him a look of mild disbelief, both of Jim's eyebrows inching towards his hairline. He doesn't believe for one second that the older captain didn't desperately need a couple hours' shuteye. "A whole pot of coffee didn't stand a chance. What d'you think I'd be able to do?" he asks lightly, looking back down at his padd just long enough to save his work, preserving the corrective notes he'd been typing out. Subtly hinting that he didn't just sit here bored or anything. Besides, it's not like the chess game was going anywhere without them.

He's not gonna point out just how desperately his companion must've needed the rest, not when it's so obvious to them both. Nor that trying to wake him in that state would probably end up involving a panicked right hook to the face. And honestly, it feels oddly good to know that the older captain felt safe enough here to collapse for a couple hours, whether he'd meant to or not. That kind of safety isn't something they've had a lot of lately.