[ 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?
[ She lets him take her hand because she needs someone to hold on to right now and she can't ask for more than this. His hand wrapped around hers is an anchor to the waking world, and she would cling to it with all her strength if she didn't so enjoy the way his fingers move across her skin. It is very tempting, though, when he makes that particular offer. ]
When they capture their prey [ she pitches her voice low like she's being careful not to be overheard ] they keep them in near darkness and drugged so as not to become unruly. You feel helpless and sick and frightened...
[ Her free hand threads her fingers into her loose hair, pressing the heel of her hand to her temple. ] It's why I never allow sedation no matter how painful a procedure. I hate remembering how it felt, but I feel it now.
[ He would give her more, if she asked. He'd hold her again if she wanted, tuck her against him, protect her from as much as he can--but she doesn't ask, and so he just holds her hand, fingers moving over it gently in absent patterns as he tries to bring her back to the here and now and away from the world of her dream.
When she speaks, he drags in a soft breath--of course. She told him about her childhood, about the Gorn. And now she's just--
--well, re-traumatized doesn't have the nicest ring to it, but he figures it's the closest to what's happened. She wasn't a child again, wasn't completely vulnerable, but she still went against the sort of enemy that destroyed her childhood, took her family and then threw her into space presumably to die. It's a wonder she only punched him once, honestly.
He lets out a soft hum, bringing up her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles, trying to chase off the ache he assumes she's feeling ]
No wonder you started swinging [ he offers her a smile, soft and encouraging ] And no wonder you didn't want the pain meds M'Benga sent with me.
[ She can't ask for more than this, regardless of if she needs or wants more. And she does, desperately, but there needs to be a line drawn between them or it will blur into nothing and they'll have a different problem on their hands. Things are already complicated enough as it is.
That kiss on her knuckles doesn't help; she just wants to press her aching hand to his cheek and feel those lips on hers instead. That need for him sinks into her like sharp claws and she feels that wretched burning in her eyes again signaling tears she fights back with a few controlled breaths.
Nodding at his words to confirm the connection he made, she searches for something, anything, to give her the bit of distance she needs to pull herself together. After a few moments when she likely fails at hiding her conflicted emotions, she finally settles on ] Would you mind getting me some water, please?
[ He can't read her like a book yet; doesn't know the nuance of her emotions, but even an idiot could see the splay of emotions that cross her face. The sheen of unshed tears, the twist of conflict--
--so when she asks for a drink of water he nods and slides off the edge of the bed easily, pressing to his feet. It takes him a second to find her glasses, and then the water, but he takes a bit longer than he usually would, giving her a second to pull herself together without his eyes on her.
Soon enough, he's back at her side, passing over the water. While he wants to encourage her to sleep again, he assumes she's going to have to try and wind down again before another attempt, and so he offers: ] Do you play chess?
[ Those seconds without his eyes on her are put to good use. A few more careful breaths push the tears back into the sad abyss where they belong, and by the time he returns, she's sitting a little straighter, her pulse finally returning to normal. She accepts the glass and takes a sip followed by a deeper drink. The glass is raised to her lips again when he asks that innocent question, and it's like a switch is flipped, those damn tears rushing back in before she even processes they're sliding down her face.
Shit. Fumbling to set the glass on the low table on her side of the bed, water sloshes over her hand and onto the blanket, but she doesn't care. In the battle of fight or flight, flight wins because there's nothing to fight here, so she hurriedly pushes back the covers and ungracefully stumbles to her feet. She has nowhere to go but she can't just sit and face the way her world feels like it's falling apart. ]
[ It's such a startling shift from re-collected to falling apart that it takes Jim a second to realize what, exactly, is going on. The tear slip from her eyes and he can't help but reach out, trying to do something, except then she's scrambling away, sliding out of the bed and looking for the world like the young horses that were raised near his home in Iowa, spooked and ready to run.
His voice, when he finds it, is achingly soft, trying to soothe ] hey, hey. La'an, hey. I'm sorry, okay? Shit, I'm sorry. You're okay though, it's okay--
[ He doesn't even know what, exactly, he's apologizing for, but he doesn't care as long as it helps. He hopes it helps. ]
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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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When they capture their prey [ she pitches her voice low like she's being careful not to be overheard ] they keep them in near darkness and drugged so as not to become unruly. You feel helpless and sick and frightened...
[ Her free hand threads her fingers into her loose hair, pressing the heel of her hand to her temple. ] It's why I never allow sedation no matter how painful a procedure. I hate remembering how it felt, but I feel it now.
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When she speaks, he drags in a soft breath--of course. She told him about her childhood, about the Gorn. And now she's just--
--well, re-traumatized doesn't have the nicest ring to it, but he figures it's the closest to what's happened. She wasn't a child again, wasn't completely vulnerable, but she still went against the sort of enemy that destroyed her childhood, took her family and then threw her into space presumably to die. It's a wonder she only punched him once, honestly.
He lets out a soft hum, bringing up her hand and pressing a kiss to the back of her knuckles, trying to chase off the ache he assumes she's feeling ]
No wonder you started swinging [ he offers her a smile, soft and encouraging ] And no wonder you didn't want the pain meds M'Benga sent with me.
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That kiss on her knuckles doesn't help; she just wants to press her aching hand to his cheek and feel those lips on hers instead. That need for him sinks into her like sharp claws and she feels that wretched burning in her eyes again signaling tears she fights back with a few controlled breaths.
Nodding at his words to confirm the connection he made, she searches for something, anything, to give her the bit of distance she needs to pull herself together. After a few moments when she likely fails at hiding her conflicted emotions, she finally settles on ] Would you mind getting me some water, please?
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--so when she asks for a drink of water he nods and slides off the edge of the bed easily, pressing to his feet. It takes him a second to find her glasses, and then the water, but he takes a bit longer than he usually would, giving her a second to pull herself together without his eyes on her.
Soon enough, he's back at her side, passing over the water. While he wants to encourage her to sleep again, he assumes she's going to have to try and wind down again before another attempt, and so he offers: ] Do you play chess?
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Shit. Fumbling to set the glass on the low table on her side of the bed, water sloshes over her hand and onto the blanket, but she doesn't care. In the battle of fight or flight, flight wins because there's nothing to fight here, so she hurriedly pushes back the covers and ungracefully stumbles to her feet. She has nowhere to go but she can't just sit and face the way her world feels like it's falling apart. ]
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His voice, when he finds it, is achingly soft, trying to soothe ] hey, hey. La'an, hey. I'm sorry, okay? Shit, I'm sorry. You're okay though, it's okay--
[ He doesn't even know what, exactly, he's apologizing for, but he doesn't care as long as it helps. He hopes it helps. ]
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