[ She speaks and he continues his gentle work, fingers and brush working out the tangles from her hair. When her voice tightens, one of his hands slips down, wrapping around her waist, tugging her closer to him, just a hair, her back against his broad chest.
It's the closest he can give her to a hug right now in the position they're in. He hopes she'll take it ]
She would be so proud of the woman you've become [ he never met her, but he says it with confidence because there is no one who would would look at La'an now and not be proud of who she is. Of the healing she's done. Of the hard work she's put into growing from the place that did its best to break her. She is the strongest person he knows, and he's met most of the Starfleet Brass. ]
[ There isn't anyone else in the galaxy who she would let hold her like this. Not even Una has this level of physical closeness with her, but with Jim, it... It feels right. Instead of keeping herself at arm's length, she wants to wrap around him and stay there until it doesn't hurt as much anymore.
Leaning a little more solidly against him, she feels her throat tighten further, her eyes burning with a fresh round of tears that she does her best to hold back. ] Thank you.
[ Pulling in a shaking breath, she tries not to think about how she's spent every day of the last twenty years trying to be worthy of her brother's sacrifice, setting her own measure so high some might deem it impossible. But even with as briefly as Jim has known her, she trusts him... and she might be able to believe him when it comes to this.
A few tears slip out and she firmly brushes them away, sniffling once before continuing this strange dance of a conversation where they've moved from one corresponding topic to another. ]
Cherish your memories, Jim. Do everything you can to keep hold of them. And if you have a little girl— [ because that is a very real possibility for him now ] braid her hair. Even if you're terrible at it. She'll need those memories one day.
[ La'an breathes against him, shaky though it is, and Jim's arms don't move. He holds her because he wants to, because it feels right in a way he can't pin down--the same way he can't pin down the connection he has to this woman but he also can't fight it either--and because he thinks she might need it. Of the people he's met in his life, and there have been many, Jim thinks she might be the one that's earned a chance to cry in someone's arms the most. To let go of the pain she's been carrying. To be vulnerable. To finally show someone how wounded she is, under all that armor she keeps up.
He's also quickly realizing he wouldn't mind being the person she trusts with that part of herself.
Carol. Right. Jim's eyes drop closed and he drags in a breath; heavy and deep. His head falls forward to press against the side of hers for a second before he admits, quietly: ] Remember how I said it was complicated?
Nothing's--changed, exactly.
But.
Carol isn't thrilled with the knowledge that I wasn't planning on giving up my Commission when I heard she was--
[ He's got the angry PADD messages to prove it; saved videos and lines of text, all of it making him realize that maybe he's more his father than he ever meant to be, in the best ways and the worst, too. He lets the sentence trail off, a wave of the hand not wrapped around her to encompass everything. He doesn't know how to explain it. How to reconcile the two people they are. He doesn't know how to walk away from being James T. Kirk, youngest first officer in Starfleet History, and he doesn't know how to make Carol understand the importance of it. His bone-deep, desperate need to be in the stars. Doing something.
Jim's need for it all to matter.
But he also doesn't know how to be--he wants to be a better father than his Dad was, except his Dad is the reason he's done everything with meaning in his life, so what does that say about him? ]
Will you tell me about them? Your family? The things you do remember?
[ So things are even more complicated now, for better or worse. La'an's heart breaks for him, for the distress she can feel in his voice and touch. It isn't hard to tell he's torn over what to do, whether he should make one decision over the other, and she can't even begin to understand what he must be feeling as he faces this future. She knows how complicated his emotions are over his relationship with his father, and the part of her that's actually listened during therapy sessions makes an educated guess that those emotions are influencing his own hopes and fears for fatherhood.
She's grateful that he shifts the subject because she doesn't know what to say to help him through this dilemma, so even though it still aches inside to talk about them, she can offer this distraction for him while he suffers in his own way. ]
Our parents when they had my brother and me. They met in school, and my mother used to tell me how she didn't care about my father's ancestry because he was so much more than that. She agreed to take his name, knowing how hard it would be, because she never wanted him to doubt that she loved all of him.
[ Her parents were the ones who gave her hope that one day she might find someone who could love her despite her lineage. Someone who could see past her name. She sniffles again and folds her arms over his that's wrapped around her, holding him in place like the lifeline he's swiftly becoming. ]
Manu was sixteen when we were taken. He wanted to be a scientist, and he was so... He always took care of me. When I was bullied by other children, when I was lonely after our latest move, he was my rock, showing me I could make it through. And when we were on that planet, he— [ She closes her eyes tight, breathing through the wave of emotion. ] He's the one who figured out how the Gorn communicated. He wrote it all down and gave it to me, and then told me to run. I don't know that I'll ever feel fully worthy of what he did for me.
[ The thing about Jim Kirk is that most people (Sam, first and foremost) will tell you that he talks too damn much. His mouth gets him into all kinds of situations, into all kinds of trouble. But there's the other truth about him too: when it's worth his while, James T. Kirk is very good at listening. And she's definitely worth his while.
So she talks, and he listens, arm wrapped around her and tucked under hers, nose pressed against the side of her hair, breathing her in. ]
Your mother was a strong woman. Like you.
[ it's easy to see they're of the same blood - the woman who would wear a murderer's name to prove her love grew beyond it, and the woman sitting here now, who kept fifty three people alive against all odds, all while reliving the trauma of her youth.
She speaks about her brother, and it twists something in his gut. He thinks about Sam, the scientist, who wanted nothing more as he grew up to know how the world was put together. How different cultures and aliens and races communicated, grew, worked together. A man who cares so deeply--
The idea of him sacrificing himself for Jim-- he can't even imagine it. The pain that would come with it. The pain she must feel every day. ]
It doesn't help, I know it doesn't. But you are worthy of it, La'an. He did it because he loved you and you deserve people who care like that for you.
[ The way he listens is something he and James had in common. Both versions of this mad had the same uncanny ability to make a person feel like they're all that matters in the world when he listens to them, and even without seeing his face, she feels that with him now too. It's something she wishes she could hold onto — that feeling of mattering to someone so profoundly.
She listens just as closely to what he has to say, and it means so very much to hear. Somehow, it's easier to believe when someone else is saying it than when she says it to herself. But at the same time, there's an elephant in the room threatening to crush her with the things that aren't being said, and suddenly she's too tired to let it all continue this way. ]
You can't be one of those people for me, Jim. [ Said quietly, sadly, but with no anger or accusation. ] No matter how much I wish you could be.
[ Part reminder and part confession, she doesn't feel the same fear and anxiety as she did not all that long ago when she'd laid bare a secret no one was supposed to ever know. His life is complicated and she can't allow herself to continue to be one of those complications. Yet even as she loosens her hold on his arm around her, she doesn't move to put any further distance between them. Saying one thing and doing another isn't who she wants to be, but here she is, becoming that person. ]
[ The words wash over him like a bucket of ice water dumped on his head. A chill that twists sharp in his gut and and spreads down his arms, wraps tight around his heart and squeezes. She's right. He knows she's right. His life is complicated and his desire to be here with her doesn't change that--it only makes it more so.
She's worth it, though. Worth the ache.
La'an loosens her hold and he lets his arm pull away from her, just a little, just enough. But he doesn't pull it away, not when she doesn't move to escape him completely. They're not body to body anymore, but they're not far apart, still sharing the same space, the same breath. ]
Love doesn't always have to be romantic [ he reminds, gently. And he doesn't acknowledge the fact that the feelings he has for her are certainly a far cry from platonic--he's still figuring them out, but he can at least say that--but he's not lying when he says he's also here to be here for her, in whatever way she wants to have him ] And maybe love is too big a word.
But--
I could be a friend. I'd like to be a friend. Your friend. If you'll have me.
[ Love. She'd grown up with a prime example of it right in front of her, and some small part of her had dreamed of finding someone who could see her the way her mother saw her father. And maybe she had found that someone — only she'd lost him, and the echo of him is a man she can't have in her life that way. It makes her want to cry again, but she's so very tired, and she's already cried so much for that lost James Kirk...
Tilting her head back to look at the ceiling of her quarters, she lets the unwept tears slip back within her, intermingling with the other signs of pain and trauma she keeps hidden from the world. A deep breath in, and out again, and then she speaks, exhaustion dripping off every syllable. ]
[ The exhaustion is palpable as she speaks, and he mistakes the sheen in her eyes for more of it, shifting just a little so he's between her and the pillows. Her bed is as orderly as the rest of her quarters (though maybe a little less so now that they've been sitting in it); and he would expect nothing less for someone who likes 'an orderly security record'.
He uses the arm near her waist to give her a one-sided hug at her answer ] Good news, you've got one.
[ and then, because he can see the way the day is weighing on her, he adds: ] And as your newest friend, can I suggest you actually try to get some sleep?
[ Maybe he shouldn't offer--maybe they've already gotten a little too close to it--but he isn't ready to let her be alone (or out of his sight, if he's being honest) and so he continues: ] I can stay, if you want. Make sure it's secure. Of the two of us, I'm actually rested
[ or at least, a little more. He hasn't slept a ton since arriving on the Enterprise, but he hasn't spent the last few days keeping literally everyone around him alive ] and I did go through a rotation with security. I know how to use a phaser if needed.
[ She's never had a friend who she can have casual physical interactions with. Even Una only gets an exceptionally rare hug, while everyone else is kept at a distance, an invisible barrier between her and each person who might otherwise be willing to offer a hug or a hand to hold. And suddenly, it's what she wants more than anything. To have someone she can hold on to when everything hurts; someone she can let see her when everything hurts.
That's why she only struggles for a few moments before nodding her acceptance of both the idea and his offer. And as soon as she's agreed, it becomes easier to let him see past that last little bit of armor — she's exhausted, yes, but she's also scared, which is ridiculous when she knows she's safe here. This is the Enterprise. She's home, and home is safe. So why is she still terrified of closing her eyes and letting her guard down?
Trauma. It's the answer to just about every question about her that begins with why. ]
Please stay. I keep— [ She struggles to find the words, not wanting to show just how broken she is and then acknowledging that's exactly what she should do right now. Lifting a hand, she presses the heel of it to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. ] I keep expecting to see them in the corners.
[ Jim has always been a tactile person. Touching, being touched--it's how he expresses affection, fondness, how he makes and sustains connection with other people. But he understands it's not everyone's preference. Sort of. There're very few times, Jim Kirk is convinced, that a proper hug can't make a shitty day at least a little better.
But he's only met La'an a few times and even he can tell she's someone who keeps to herself. Who holds herself apart, collected and composed, the barriers she puts up keeping everyone away. He's seen the way she moves when she's working; how she uses exactly enough energy in every step and turn and not an ounce more. Always conserving something in case she's called upon to act. Now that he knows about her childhood he figures maybe that's where it's born from; never knowing when you might need to run and hide.
Now, at least, he hopes he can give her a space where she doesn't have to do that. Doesn't have to be so tightly wound. She's too exhausted for it, and trying now will only wear her into something threadbare that can't be properly patched, even with his sewing skills--a poor metaphor, maybe, but it's what he has to offer.
Her fear twists that same part of him that longs for her, the complicated bit that aches, and he reaches out a hand to smooth out the lines on her forehead, gentle fingers running softly over the creases he finds there. ]
I'm not going anywhere. Promise. [ If he makes a promise, he keeps it ] Staying here as long as you'll have me.
[ he lets his hand fall away, down to her knee, where he gives her a gentle squeeze. He's not going to think about the truth behind that comment, the way it rings true for more than just being here and being her friend. She's asked him for platonic. He can give her that. ] Come'n, Lieutenant. Get in bed. No one's going to miss you until morning, and I'm pretty sure you're under doctor's orders.
[ As long as you'll have me. She would keep him with her for the rest of her life if she could. Growing old and having a family isn't something she's ever allowed herself to dream, not when so much of her life has been shaped by death and tragedy, but having someone to spend her life with for however long it might be... But it's just a dream, and one she can't even bring herself to hope might come true anymore.
Maybe it would be better if she cut ties with him. Instead of seeing the physical ghost of the man she loved, perhaps she should exorcise him from her life so she can grieve and move on. Except even the thought of that is enough to bring forth the threat of fresh tears, and she can't fathom the idea of living in a world without Jim Kirk. ]
So bossy... [ She says the quiet, teasing comment with a small smile before gathering up the bowl with its remaining strawberries and the few cookies left. After offering one of those cookies to him, she sets the rest on the little bedside table — they won't be as fresh later, but she doesn't care. ]
When the situation warrants it. Or maybe I've been practicing to be a Commander. [ He takes a cookie when she offers, eating it in three bites as she settles the bowl on the side table. When she wakes up he'll find an excuse to get her more strawberries, fresh ones, but he plans to keep his promise to stay with her tonight.
If he was being reasonable, he would climb out of her bed and let her have it. He'd take a spot in a chair nearby and keep his vigil from there. But like everything this woman, reasonableness isn't the first thought in his mind, and he shifts, settling back so he's sitting near the headboard (or what passes for one on a starship) and he waits for her to adjust.
He won't force her settling on him, but he's also here if she wants to. ]
[ If he'd moved off the bed, she would have let him go, but it would have hurt. She doesn't want that distance between them, not when having him close is the only thing keeping her from breaking apart. Tomorrow will be easier, and the day after even more so — she knows that from experience — but tonight will be the hardest, and she'll take whatever comfort she can get. So as she slips under the covers, the familiar sensation feeling almost alien, she hesitates for only a moment before leaning against him and resting her head on his shoulder. ]
You can sleep too. [ Because she doesn't really need him to keep watch, and she's certain he hasn't gotten as much rest lately as he really should have, not with Sam missing. ] Or you can use my PADD if you want to read or watch something.
[ Already, it's a struggle to keep her words coherent, her stiff muscles relaxing into warm exhaustion as darkness tugs at her mind. But she fights it, needing just a little longer with him in this moment. ]
[ When she doesn't shift him away or give him any indication that she wants him to go--instead offering to let him sleep too--he adjusts down, opening an arm so she can settle against him if she wants, laying against his chest. There are not many people Jim Kirk would willingly be a pillow for, but it turns out that La'an is one of them.
And he likes the idea of keeping her as close--touching her. Proving to himself that she's still alive. Knowing Sam was missing was what kept him up at night, but knowing he might not see her again gave him nightmares he can't quite explain, but doesn't want to relive. ]
I'll find a way to entertain myself [ he assures with a smile that's impossibly fond. It's everything he can do not to press a kiss to the top of her head, her hair still free and loose. It's a good look for her, though he plans to keep that specific information to himself and he will get to the braiding tomorrow before she ventures out to see other people. Whatever she needs to put her armor back on, he'll help her do it, but there's something to be said for the fact that she doesn't feel the need to don it now--that she trusts him enough to be this vulnerable ] Go to sleep. That's an order from someone who almost outranks you.
Almost. [ She emphasizes the word with gentle, tired teasing, which is something she'll certainly continue doing even after he receives his full promotion. First Officer or not, he'll still be Jim Kirk; even Captain Pike isn't exempt from her teasing when they're in less formal situations. It's simply how La'an conveys her affection for others.
It isn't often that she leaves her hair down like this to sleep. Being prepared for anything is part of what she trains her team on; for her, that means quite literally being prepared at all times. She showers before bed and rebraids her hair so she'll be ready to report for duty even in the middle of the night.
But not tonight. Tonight, she lets her guard down and allows someone else to take charge. Miraculously, it feels good to do, which she credits to the man in question rather than the act itself. Even if she barely knows this Jim, she would trust him with her life; more than that, she trusts him with the lives of everyone on this ship. ]
Thank you, Jim...
[ Slipping an arm across him, she tucks herself more snugly against his side, ignoring the ache of angry bruises as she settles into the solid warmth of him. She's only partially-covered by the blanket this way, but she doesn't care. All that matters is wrapping herself around her anchor before she finally gives in to sleep. ]
[ He would expect nothing less than her continued teasing--he'll look forward to it, actually, back when he's on the Farragut and away from the family feeling of the Enterprise. Honestly, there's something special about this ship and the people it attracts and Jim wants to be a part of it. Not just for La'an. Or Uhura. Or because Sam's here, but because there's a certain energy that thrums through the whole of her, and it draws people together in a way he's seen few crews actually manage.
La'an settles against him and he wraps his own arms around her, tucking her close. She seems smaller, somehow, when she's tucked into him like this, and the knowledge tugs at something inside him, that impossibly fond ache that wants to do nothing but protect her, to keep her safe.
He knows she doesn't need him to, knows she can care for herself, but he feels so damned privileged to have the chance. Her breath evens out into sleep and he does, selfishly, take the moment to press one brief kiss against the crown of her head before tucking her up under his chin.
When he picks up her PADD from beside the bed with his free hand, he means to stay on it and awake all night. That's what he promised her--but she's breathing softly against him, body warm and heavy and he finds his eyes slipping closed sooner than he expects, his blinks growing further and further apart until his arm falls free - the PADD tumbling loose on the bed as Jim joins her: fully asleep ]
[ For the first few hours, La'an sleeps peacefully in the arms of James Tiberius Kirk. It's the sleep of exhaustion, deep enough to avoid the stage of the cycle where pesky dreams lie. But few good things ever last and eventually one does slip through, wrapping around her like a spider's web, twining itself in memory and fear until she's suffocating in it.
It's too warm. She shifts as she dreams, her body instinctively trying to get away from the heat that reminds her of the breeding planet, seeking the protective cold where the Gorn refuse to tread. A frown creases her expression as she pushes back from that solid wall of warmth, her consciousness trying to claw free of the dream that clings to her. A quiet, keening moan tears itself from her throat as the blanket tangles around her in her attempt to break free, and her dream shifts from that hot, humid planet to those terrifying hours of being drugged on the ship. ]
[ He doesn't wake when she first shifts against him, his body adjusting in his sleep to her pulling away, twisting to accommodate. But the first time that panicked noise slips from her lips he's gone from asleep to wide awake immediately.
It takes another beat for him to realize what's happening, taking in the sharp creases in her face, the frown lines along her forehead, the way she's twisting in the sheets. He reaches out, settles his hands on her shoulders and gives her a gentle shake ]
La'an. [ his voice is quiet at first, trying to wake her kindly. When she doesn't stop, he shakes her harder, his voice raising ] La'an, wake up. It's a dream. You're dreaming.
[ That first gentle attempt does little more than nudge her consciousness slightly closer to waking, like a swimmer reorienting themself when deep below the surface. But that harder shake is like an earthquake, sending her spiraling up out of the dark depths of her mind, grasping for free air like someone clawing their way out of their own grave. And when she reaches it—
She doesn't know what she's doing as her arms swing and her legs kick with full strength, her body instinctively reacting like a wild animal fighting for its life. Her mind doesn't register if blows land, her thoughts heavy and sluggish like she's been drugged again, and she won't stop fighting until there's no one touching her anymore.
This is part of why she never allows sedation during medical procedures. This reaction to trauma is one she may never be able to overcome. ]
[ The first few blows land on his chest and arms, not making much of an impact as she's mostly flinging blind. But she is trained and there's no mistake why she's the Enterprise's chief of security. She gets one good swing in and it connects, bodily, with his jaw. It snaps his head back, his hands coming off her shoulders in surprise, as he makes his own startled noise.
That might actually bruise--he's not wasting Medbay's resources right now on a sore jaw, they have bigger fish to fry. ]
La'an-- [ he tries again, voice louder ] La'an, come'n, wake up for me. It's a dream--
[ Between that startled noise he makes and the volume of his voice, his attempts finally register, breaking through the haze to pull her free from the darkness. The lights in her quarters are comfortably dimmed but still more than enough to see by, and it only takes a few moments for her eyes to find him. ]
Ja— [ Her voice cuts off as she slowly sits up, her body even mor stiff and uncomfortable than when she'd first laid down. Blinking heavily, she shakes her head, trying to orient herself to the situation when she feels like a ship adrift at sea. ] Jim. What—
[ She finally comes to, sitting up slowly as his jaw starts a steady throb--yeah, that will definitely bruise, but he ignores it in favor of holding up his hands, reaching out to her gently. One hand settles on her arm, rubbing gently at the skin there as the other settles on her shoulder ]
Hey, hi [ he greets, offering her a small smile, trying to reduce the possibility of a threat. He can still see the spikes of adrenaline working through her, the pulse point on her neck beating rapidly, her wide eyes even as she works to blink sleep out of them ] it's me. You had a nightmare--or at least, one hell of a bad dream.
[ She doesn't notice the signs of adrenaline at first. The way her breathing is as labored as if she'd been running. The trembling in her limbs. The way she feels like her heart might try to burst out of her chest. But when he mentions the nightmare, she recognizes it all... including an aching in her hand. ]
I hit you. [ Her hand shakes as she looks at it like it belongs to someone else before she clenches it tight into a fist in her lap. ] Shit. I'm sorry, I didn't— I haven't slept with anyone since I was a child, I didn't know I would—
[ The apology comes out in a rush and she feels terrible, both emotionally and physically. Exhaustion still clings to her but now she has the almost nauseated off-kilter feeling of being woken abruptly from too-little sleep. She wants to be horizontal again to stop the room from tilting but refuses to show just how terrible she feels. It's a habit she hasn't yet learned to shake with him. ]
It's okay, La'an. Really-- [ He doesn't argue the fact that she hit him, because, well, she did, but he's not holding it against her. He reaches out to touch the hand she's buried in her lap, running gentle fingers over her fist before he works to pull it up, tucking it toward him, running his fingers across hers to unball it, and then across her palm. ] Just proved that even in your sleep you've got one hell of a right hook.
[ he gives her a smile, which falters when he sees how twisted up she looks, torn between a thousand different emotions he can't quite place that flick through her eyes ]
Sorry, bad joke, wrong time. [ He hedges, still holding her hand ] Hey--
[ a breath, and then an offer: ] Do you want to talk about it?
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no subject
It's the closest he can give her to a hug right now in the position they're in. He hopes she'll take it ]
She would be so proud of the woman you've become [ he never met her, but he says it with confidence because there is no one who would would look at La'an now and not be proud of who she is. Of the healing she's done. Of the hard work she's put into growing from the place that did its best to break her. She is the strongest person he knows, and he's met most of the Starfleet Brass. ]
They all would.
no subject
Leaning a little more solidly against him, she feels her throat tighten further, her eyes burning with a fresh round of tears that she does her best to hold back. ] Thank you.
[ Pulling in a shaking breath, she tries not to think about how she's spent every day of the last twenty years trying to be worthy of her brother's sacrifice, setting her own measure so high some might deem it impossible. But even with as briefly as Jim has known her, she trusts him... and she might be able to believe him when it comes to this.
A few tears slip out and she firmly brushes them away, sniffling once before continuing this strange dance of a conversation where they've moved from one corresponding topic to another. ]
Cherish your memories, Jim. Do everything you can to keep hold of them. And if you have a little girl— [ because that is a very real possibility for him now ] braid her hair. Even if you're terrible at it. She'll need those memories one day.
no subject
He's also quickly realizing he wouldn't mind being the person she trusts with that part of herself.
Carol. Right. Jim's eyes drop closed and he drags in a breath; heavy and deep. His head falls forward to press against the side of hers for a second before he admits, quietly: ] Remember how I said it was complicated?
Nothing's--changed, exactly.
But.
Carol isn't thrilled with the knowledge that I wasn't planning on giving up my Commission when I heard she was--
[ He's got the angry PADD messages to prove it; saved videos and lines of text, all of it making him realize that maybe he's more his father than he ever meant to be, in the best ways and the worst, too. He lets the sentence trail off, a wave of the hand not wrapped around her to encompass everything. He doesn't know how to explain it. How to reconcile the two people they are. He doesn't know how to walk away from being James T. Kirk, youngest first officer in Starfleet History, and he doesn't know how to make Carol understand the importance of it. His bone-deep, desperate need to be in the stars. Doing something.
Jim's need for it all to matter.
But he also doesn't know how to be--he wants to be a better father than his Dad was, except his Dad is the reason he's done everything with meaning in his life, so what does that say about him? ]
Will you tell me about them? Your family? The things you do remember?
no subject
She's grateful that he shifts the subject because she doesn't know what to say to help him through this dilemma, so even though it still aches inside to talk about them, she can offer this distraction for him while he suffers in his own way. ]
Our parents when they had my brother and me. They met in school, and my mother used to tell me how she didn't care about my father's ancestry because he was so much more than that. She agreed to take his name, knowing how hard it would be, because she never wanted him to doubt that she loved all of him.
[ Her parents were the ones who gave her hope that one day she might find someone who could love her despite her lineage. Someone who could see past her name. She sniffles again and folds her arms over his that's wrapped around her, holding him in place like the lifeline he's swiftly becoming. ]
Manu was sixteen when we were taken. He wanted to be a scientist, and he was so... He always took care of me. When I was bullied by other children, when I was lonely after our latest move, he was my rock, showing me I could make it through. And when we were on that planet, he— [ She closes her eyes tight, breathing through the wave of emotion. ] He's the one who figured out how the Gorn communicated. He wrote it all down and gave it to me, and then told me to run. I don't know that I'll ever feel fully worthy of what he did for me.
no subject
So she talks, and he listens, arm wrapped around her and tucked under hers, nose pressed against the side of her hair, breathing her in. ]
Your mother was a strong woman. Like you.
[ it's easy to see they're of the same blood - the woman who would wear a murderer's name to prove her love grew beyond it, and the woman sitting here now, who kept fifty three people alive against all odds, all while reliving the trauma of her youth.
She speaks about her brother, and it twists something in his gut. He thinks about Sam, the scientist, who wanted nothing more as he grew up to know how the world was put together. How different cultures and aliens and races communicated, grew, worked together. A man who cares so deeply--
The idea of him sacrificing himself for Jim-- he can't even imagine it. The pain that would come with it. The pain she must feel every day. ]
It doesn't help, I know it doesn't. But you are worthy of it, La'an. He did it because he loved you and you deserve people who care like that for you.
no subject
She listens just as closely to what he has to say, and it means so very much to hear. Somehow, it's easier to believe when someone else is saying it than when she says it to herself. But at the same time, there's an elephant in the room threatening to crush her with the things that aren't being said, and suddenly she's too tired to let it all continue this way. ]
You can't be one of those people for me, Jim. [ Said quietly, sadly, but with no anger or accusation. ] No matter how much I wish you could be.
[ Part reminder and part confession, she doesn't feel the same fear and anxiety as she did not all that long ago when she'd laid bare a secret no one was supposed to ever know. His life is complicated and she can't allow herself to continue to be one of those complications. Yet even as she loosens her hold on his arm around her, she doesn't move to put any further distance between them. Saying one thing and doing another isn't who she wants to be, but here she is, becoming that person. ]
no subject
She's worth it, though. Worth the ache.
La'an loosens her hold and he lets his arm pull away from her, just a little, just enough. But he doesn't pull it away, not when she doesn't move to escape him completely. They're not body to body anymore, but they're not far apart, still sharing the same space, the same breath. ]
Love doesn't always have to be romantic [ he reminds, gently. And he doesn't acknowledge the fact that the feelings he has for her are certainly a far cry from platonic--he's still figuring them out, but he can at least say that--but he's not lying when he says he's also here to be here for her, in whatever way she wants to have him ] And maybe love is too big a word.
But--
I could be a friend. I'd like to be a friend. Your friend. If you'll have me.
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Tilting her head back to look at the ceiling of her quarters, she lets the unwept tears slip back within her, intermingling with the other signs of pain and trauma she keeps hidden from the world. A deep breath in, and out again, and then she speaks, exhaustion dripping off every syllable. ]
I think I could really use a friend right now.
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He uses the arm near her waist to give her a one-sided hug at her answer ] Good news, you've got one.
[ and then, because he can see the way the day is weighing on her, he adds: ] And as your newest friend, can I suggest you actually try to get some sleep?
[ Maybe he shouldn't offer--maybe they've already gotten a little too close to it--but he isn't ready to let her be alone (or out of his sight, if he's being honest) and so he continues: ] I can stay, if you want. Make sure it's secure. Of the two of us, I'm actually rested
[ or at least, a little more. He hasn't slept a ton since arriving on the Enterprise, but he hasn't spent the last few days keeping literally everyone around him alive ] and I did go through a rotation with security. I know how to use a phaser if needed.
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That's why she only struggles for a few moments before nodding her acceptance of both the idea and his offer. And as soon as she's agreed, it becomes easier to let him see past that last little bit of armor — she's exhausted, yes, but she's also scared, which is ridiculous when she knows she's safe here. This is the Enterprise. She's home, and home is safe. So why is she still terrified of closing her eyes and letting her guard down?
Trauma. It's the answer to just about every question about her that begins with why. ]
Please stay. I keep— [ She struggles to find the words, not wanting to show just how broken she is and then acknowledging that's exactly what she should do right now. Lifting a hand, she presses the heel of it to her forehead, squeezing her eyes shut. ] I keep expecting to see them in the corners.
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But he's only met La'an a few times and even he can tell she's someone who keeps to herself. Who holds herself apart, collected and composed, the barriers she puts up keeping everyone away. He's seen the way she moves when she's working; how she uses exactly enough energy in every step and turn and not an ounce more. Always conserving something in case she's called upon to act. Now that he knows about her childhood he figures maybe that's where it's born from; never knowing when you might need to run and hide.
Now, at least, he hopes he can give her a space where she doesn't have to do that. Doesn't have to be so tightly wound. She's too exhausted for it, and trying now will only wear her into something threadbare that can't be properly patched, even with his sewing skills--a poor metaphor, maybe, but it's what he has to offer.
Her fear twists that same part of him that longs for her, the complicated bit that aches, and he reaches out a hand to smooth out the lines on her forehead, gentle fingers running softly over the creases he finds there. ]
I'm not going anywhere. Promise. [ If he makes a promise, he keeps it ] Staying here as long as you'll have me.
[ he lets his hand fall away, down to her knee, where he gives her a gentle squeeze. He's not going to think about the truth behind that comment, the way it rings true for more than just being here and being her friend. She's asked him for platonic. He can give her that. ] Come'n, Lieutenant. Get in bed. No one's going to miss you until morning, and I'm pretty sure you're under doctor's orders.
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Maybe it would be better if she cut ties with him. Instead of seeing the physical ghost of the man she loved, perhaps she should exorcise him from her life so she can grieve and move on. Except even the thought of that is enough to bring forth the threat of fresh tears, and she can't fathom the idea of living in a world without Jim Kirk. ]
So bossy... [ She says the quiet, teasing comment with a small smile before gathering up the bowl with its remaining strawberries and the few cookies left. After offering one of those cookies to him, she sets the rest on the little bedside table — they won't be as fresh later, but she doesn't care. ]
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If he was being reasonable, he would climb out of her bed and let her have it. He'd take a spot in a chair nearby and keep his vigil from there. But like everything this woman, reasonableness isn't the first thought in his mind, and he shifts, settling back so he's sitting near the headboard (or what passes for one on a starship) and he waits for her to adjust.
He won't force her settling on him, but he's also here if she wants to. ]
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You can sleep too. [ Because she doesn't really need him to keep watch, and she's certain he hasn't gotten as much rest lately as he really should have, not with Sam missing. ] Or you can use my PADD if you want to read or watch something.
[ Already, it's a struggle to keep her words coherent, her stiff muscles relaxing into warm exhaustion as darkness tugs at her mind. But she fights it, needing just a little longer with him in this moment. ]
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And he likes the idea of keeping her as close--touching her. Proving to himself that she's still alive. Knowing Sam was missing was what kept him up at night, but knowing he might not see her again gave him nightmares he can't quite explain, but doesn't want to relive. ]
I'll find a way to entertain myself [ he assures with a smile that's impossibly fond. It's everything he can do not to press a kiss to the top of her head, her hair still free and loose. It's a good look for her, though he plans to keep that specific information to himself and he will get to the braiding tomorrow before she ventures out to see other people. Whatever she needs to put her armor back on, he'll help her do it, but there's something to be said for the fact that she doesn't feel the need to don it now--that she trusts him enough to be this vulnerable ] Go to sleep. That's an order from someone who almost outranks you.
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It isn't often that she leaves her hair down like this to sleep. Being prepared for anything is part of what she trains her team on; for her, that means quite literally being prepared at all times. She showers before bed and rebraids her hair so she'll be ready to report for duty even in the middle of the night.
But not tonight. Tonight, she lets her guard down and allows someone else to take charge. Miraculously, it feels good to do, which she credits to the man in question rather than the act itself. Even if she barely knows this Jim, she would trust him with her life; more than that, she trusts him with the lives of everyone on this ship. ]
Thank you, Jim...
[ Slipping an arm across him, she tucks herself more snugly against his side, ignoring the ache of angry bruises as she settles into the solid warmth of him. She's only partially-covered by the blanket this way, but she doesn't care. All that matters is wrapping herself around her anchor before she finally gives in to sleep. ]
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La'an settles against him and he wraps his own arms around her, tucking her close. She seems smaller, somehow, when she's tucked into him like this, and the knowledge tugs at something inside him, that impossibly fond ache that wants to do nothing but protect her, to keep her safe.
He knows she doesn't need him to, knows she can care for herself, but he feels so damned privileged to have the chance. Her breath evens out into sleep and he does, selfishly, take the moment to press one brief kiss against the crown of her head before tucking her up under his chin.
When he picks up her PADD from beside the bed with his free hand, he means to stay on it and awake all night. That's what he promised her--but she's breathing softly against him, body warm and heavy and he finds his eyes slipping closed sooner than he expects, his blinks growing further and further apart until his arm falls free - the PADD tumbling loose on the bed as Jim joins her: fully asleep ]
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It's too warm. She shifts as she dreams, her body instinctively trying to get away from the heat that reminds her of the breeding planet, seeking the protective cold where the Gorn refuse to tread. A frown creases her expression as she pushes back from that solid wall of warmth, her consciousness trying to claw free of the dream that clings to her. A quiet, keening moan tears itself from her throat as the blanket tangles around her in her attempt to break free, and her dream shifts from that hot, humid planet to those terrifying hours of being drugged on the ship. ]
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It takes another beat for him to realize what's happening, taking in the sharp creases in her face, the frown lines along her forehead, the way she's twisting in the sheets. He reaches out, settles his hands on her shoulders and gives her a gentle shake ]
La'an. [ his voice is quiet at first, trying to wake her kindly. When she doesn't stop, he shakes her harder, his voice raising ] La'an, wake up. It's a dream. You're dreaming.
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She doesn't know what she's doing as her arms swing and her legs kick with full strength, her body instinctively reacting like a wild animal fighting for its life. Her mind doesn't register if blows land, her thoughts heavy and sluggish like she's been drugged again, and she won't stop fighting until there's no one touching her anymore.
This is part of why she never allows sedation during medical procedures. This reaction to trauma is one she may never be able to overcome. ]
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That might actually bruise--he's not wasting Medbay's resources right now on a sore jaw, they have bigger fish to fry. ]
La'an-- [ he tries again, voice louder ] La'an, come'n, wake up for me. It's a dream--
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Ja— [ Her voice cuts off as she slowly sits up, her body even mor stiff and uncomfortable than when she'd first laid down. Blinking heavily, she shakes her head, trying to orient herself to the situation when she feels like a ship adrift at sea. ] Jim. What—
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Hey, hi [ he greets, offering her a small smile, trying to reduce the possibility of a threat. He can still see the spikes of adrenaline working through her, the pulse point on her neck beating rapidly, her wide eyes even as she works to blink sleep out of them ] it's me. You had a nightmare--or at least, one hell of a bad dream.
You're okay--
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I hit you. [ Her hand shakes as she looks at it like it belongs to someone else before she clenches it tight into a fist in her lap. ] Shit. I'm sorry, I didn't— I haven't slept with anyone since I was a child, I didn't know I would—
[ The apology comes out in a rush and she feels terrible, both emotionally and physically. Exhaustion still clings to her but now she has the almost nauseated off-kilter feeling of being woken abruptly from too-little sleep. She wants to be horizontal again to stop the room from tilting but refuses to show just how terrible she feels. It's a habit she hasn't yet learned to shake with him. ]
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[ he gives her a smile, which falters when he sees how twisted up she looks, torn between a thousand different emotions he can't quite place that flick through her eyes ]
Sorry, bad joke, wrong time. [ He hedges, still holding her hand ] Hey--
[ a breath, and then an offer: ] Do you want to talk about it?
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