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]

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.

[smartass_captain]

"I know, it's just.." Jim trails off and rolls his head from side to side, letting the joints pop and trying to ease the stiffness when he turns his head a particular way and meets sore resistance.

"I haven't been sleeping, lately." No shit, Jim. He grinds the heel of his palm into each eye before sitting up properly again, careful not to upset Crookshanks when he does so.

"Even my quarters isn't safe. It's so damn hard to sleep, and so often when I do all that's waiting is--" A gesture. The younger captain knows all too well what waits for them in their sleep. "It's getting to th'point where I just pass out now and again. And I can't stop because it's the only time I don't dream. Only time I'm too fuckin' exhausted to process anything."

So, less sleep than usual even.

[boldygoing]

Jim bites back a sarcastic remark about the sheer stupidity of needing to even tell him that he hasn't been sleeping. No need to punch someone when they're already down, and he just woke up, besides.

Yeah, he gets it. It's hard enough to try to forget when he's awake. Falling asleep is surrender, handing the reins over to his subconscious, knowing full well it's going to do its best to steer him off a cliff the moment it gets a chance. But it's not sustainable, especially not if he's trying to run a starship like nothing's wrong. Even Jim Kirk can't run from the inevitable forever.

"Gonna be real embarrassing if you end up passing out in the chair," Jim comments, deciding that a little levity might not be misplaced. Especially since his companion managed to get at least a little rest under his belt without having to deal with that shit again, this time. "I mean, studies show naps are good for older folks but usually not when you're on duty."

[smartass_captain]

"I know, I...I know. There's a lot going on right now that I--"

Jim snaps his mouth shut fast enough for there to be an audible clack. He shouldn't be talking to Jim about this. not because of trauma or any other damn reason like that. He's meddled with this guy's future enough for one day. Jim's not about to go doing it again.

"Sorry." He says again, because he doesn't want his companion to think he's ungrateful. "I shouldn't talk to you about that. The short version is I have a lot of shit on my plate and really no time to be dealing with this trauma bullshit."

Though his expression falls down a trash compactor at the other's joke. Older folks, huh. Yeah, that makes sense. Jim never really figured he'd live to be older than his dad was. And he's still complaining? He's alive.

The guilt sits like a weight in his stomach.

"Shit."

[boldygoing]

...oh. Fuck. Jim has no real idea what he just stepped into, but that joke went down like it got sucked into a black hole, and the teasing look slides off his own face in a hurry. Whatever landmine he just tripped, it's bad. "Sorry," he says, looking contrite, not quite sure what he did wrong but genuinely apologetic that he did it, regardless.

Was it the age thing? Logically, Jim knows there's about three years between them, but he hasn't really considered what that means. On a deeper level than just a number. An uneasy feeling coils in his stomach, but he can tell by one look at the other's face that asking is not gonna get him anywhere. It's either something so personal that it's even worse than what they've talked about so far, or it's spoilers, something he can't talk about without jeopardizing the timeline.

Either way... shit.

He doesn't have the first clue how to start salvaging this situation, not when he's not even sure how it got to this point in the first place. Crookshanks has a little more of an idea, making a worried sound in his throat and trying to slip his head under the older captain's hand.

Okay. It's been a few hours since they started this session, and normally, Jim would offer to make something to eat for a guest, especially seeing as it's growing later by the hour. But food is a minefield in and of itself, with himself as much as his companion, and the last thing he wants to do is start carelessly tromping on even more traumatic spots for either of them. "Can I get you anything?" he asks instead, leaving it open-ended. More coffee, some water, anything that's in his power to do.

[smartass_captain]

"Nah. I think I'm gonna take your advice and call it a day. The game will keep, right?"

The tone in Jim's voice and the way he pulls away from Crookshanks definitively says all it needs to about the situation. The conversation is Over. There's nothing more to talk about right now that isn't straying into territories Jim can't touch on with his younger counterpart until he's experienced them for himself.

Which he may never have to. Who even knows?

"My turn to pick a time and place next time to finish this, yeah?" He tries to keep his expression friendly. There's no way Jim could have known...it's just proof that they can't share Everything with each other. Not yet, anyway.

"I've got a diplomatic peace talk coming up in a few weeks, so we're going doubletime to finish all or scans in this sector before we have to head out there. I might be gone a couple of weeks but I'll catch up with you when I can."

[boldygoing]

Jim feels like he's swallowed a lead weight, seeing right through the way the other is trying to play it off, pulling back, finding an excuse to leave. Even if he's keeping this civil, friendly even, there's that sinking feeling that he did this. And there's not really anything he can do to take it back, or fix it.

But he gets it. Gets the urge to run, to hide, to spend enough time in solitude to get his head on straight without some well-meaning idiot like himself asking stupid questions. So he doesn't fight it. Wouldn't make any difference if he did. Jim Kirk is a fucking stubborn guy, and something like this... yeah, it's Over. Especially with a rock-solid excuse like his duty to Starfleet behind it.

"Sure," Jim says, not quite able to hide the frown, but giving it his best shot. "It's your move next anyway. Just let me know when you're available."