[ 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. ]
[ She looks at him and feels even worse. He doesn't know what he's done wrong, he couldn't possibly know, and she's not supposed to tell him. She's not supposed to tell anyone and it's eating her alive. Yes, she's already broken that rule once, but who would even want to know the details of how another version of themselves lived and died? ]
No, it's not. [ The words end in a sob and she presses a tight fist to her mouth, trying to keep the rest of them inside. And then she forcefully brushes away those trails of salty sadness on her cheeks and shakes her head. ]
You should go. [ Each syllable is like broken glass in her throat. There's no steel in her voice, only sorrow, and she can't bring herself to look at him. She doesn't want him to leave but it hurts so much to have him stay. ]
[ Jim doesn't know how this has gone so badly, so quickly, but he can tell how close she is to shattering apart. She looks away from him, face streaked with tears and his heart shatters in his chest. He can't--he wants to fix it. He wants to take her pain into himself so she doesn't have to feel it anymore.
He knows he can't, but he wants to.
She tells him to leave and he should listen--she's in charge here, and he wants to respect her wishes--but he hesitates, struggling to leave her when she's this raw. ]
La'an--
[ He doesn't even know what to say. 'Let me help' seems selfish, 'who should I call' seems like he's okay with abandoning her, 'what can I do' seems like he's putting it too much on her shoulders. James T. Kirk doesn't like to lose, but he can't see a way to earn a win out of this situation.
Maybe, he can find a place to draw? ]
Do you want to tell me about it? Whatever it is? If it's--[ a pause, a breath ] --about the other me; you know I'll keep it between us.
[ She shouldn't. Letting him stay is a bad idea, and telling him about James is even worse. But one look at him is enough to convince her that those bad ideas might be okay. With everything else already so horribly messed up, she can't make things worse, right? And he's already seen her fall apart once in the last twelve hours, so what's one more time?
Another sob tries to climb out of her throat and she bites it down with a quiet choked sound, closing her eyes and bowing her head. But then a moment later she's moving across the room, her bare feet carrying her swiftly toward the locked compartment in the far wall. She opens it with practiced ease, the drawer sliding out with a hushed click, and then she opens the secure case within. When she turns back toward him, it's with the watch clutched in her hand, but she doesn't draw attention to it as she sits on the couch.
She feels the slightest bit calmer with the watch in her grasp. It's become like a security blanket, the only physical evidence she has that she didn't dream it all up. ]
He played chess on our first day together. We needed money and he played people in the park to earn it. [ The explanation comes out easily and her heart feels lighter. Now someone else knows too. ]
[ He's half expecting her to shove him out of the room despite his offer, and he can't quite explain the relief that washes over him when she doesn't. He's already so entangled with her--and he shouldn't be. She's right that there are Complications, that he hasn't known her long, that he has no obligation to her.
And still.
He watches as she walks to the drawers, collects something (he thinks it's a watch, but he doesn't demand to see it--instead focusing on the way her hands curl around it, both protecting it and drawing strength from its presence) and settles on the couch.
When it's clear she really isn't going to ask him to leave again he makes his way over, slowly, perching on the edge of the couch near her. At the explanation, he nods, slight smile ghosting across his face before it's gone ]
And here I am, looking just like him and asking if you want to play chess [ He hazards, putting the pieces together ] The Universe isn't letting you catch much of a break tonight, is it?
[ The words are gentle, teasing, almost, though the object of the teasing is more the events that have transpired instead of her -- maybe it's a bad attempt at a joke, a way to lighten the mood. He wants to reach out and settle a hand on her knee, but he doesn't, keeping his hands to himself for the moment. Jim doesn't want to make it worse ]
So other me was pretty good at hustling people? I like him more the more I hear about him.
[ a quiet invitation for her to keep talking, if she wants ]
[ Her hands stay wrapped around the watch in her lap, cradling it like it's the most precious thing in the world. And for her, it very well might be — if the ship were going down and she could only take one physical item with her, it might be the one she grabbed. Not her graduation certificate, or the starfish from her first trip with Una, but this relic of a time only she will ever remember.
She curls in on herself a little, her head bent forward so her hair falls over her shoulders, but she doesn't hide. Her walls are too damaged to put back up tonight, so this is the best she can do to protect herself from the emotional onslaught looming around every corner. ]
They all enjoyed it. [ Despite how much it hurts to think of him and their time together, the fondness she feels for the other James Tiberius Kirk shines through the pain. ] Everyone smiled and shook his hand, and he was so pleased with himself. He said he used to play with his first officer until she got tired of losing, and then he tried to order me to eat a hot dog.
[ The last actually brings a watery laugh out of her, though her smile fades after a moment. ] We were walking by the water and he... He stopped to look at the sunset. He'd never seen one before.
[ It's strange, hearing about a version of himself and knowing that parts of the story fit with exactly how he would conduct himself, and the other half is--completely foreign. She curls into herself, telling the story and even gives him a pained laugh, and he can't help it anymore, he has to reach out, to settle a hand on her back, quiet assurance he's here and he's listening.
He arches an eyebrow at the comment because how can you not have seen a sunset? but it's the only outward reaction he gives.
Instead of questioning, he hazards a guess: ] Earth was pretty different where he was from?
[ Her muscles relax slightly when she feels his hand on her back, the warmth of his touch sinking in through the fabric of her shirt. His touch soothes her soul in a way she can't even begin to explain, and she doesn't want to acknowledge what that means.
Glancing over at him, she catches the last glimmer of that arched eyebrow, and so she has to explain. It's suddenly vitally important that he understands what sort of life shaped the other James Kirk. ] It was a wasteland. He said the clouds of ash wouldn't settle for a thousand years.
[ Even now, she has trouble grasping what it would be like to live in a galaxy like that. ] In his timeline, humanity had colonized a few planets, but... We didn't have allies. The Federation didn't exist, and we were losing a war with the Romulans.
[ She thinks of the way James and turned aside Spock's plea for help even after hearing how disastrous it would be for the Vulcans. The look on Spock's face... Jim doesn't need to know about that part. It might be ridiculous for her to feel protective of a man who no longer exists, especially given who that man was, but she doesn't want Jim to think badly of his other self. ]
[ 'the clouds of ash wouldn't settle for years'--he doesn't know why that sticks in his head. Gives him pause. He takes a moment to think about it, how that might change his life--not growing up on Earth. There not being an earth to come back to.
She continues and it only compounds the image in his head; a war with Romulans, a lack of the federation, only knowing a few planets instead of the expanse of space they have to explore now. No wonder--
--well, no wonder the man was different. Stopped to look at a sunset that Jim probably wouldn't have noticed. Ordered La'an to eat hotdogs. Hustled strangers for chess and had a great time doing it. She's not wrong, that Jim would struggle with the idea of himself turning down helping someone who was in need--but she doesn't share, so he doesn't have to factor that in his assessment.
La'an doesn't shake off his hand and so he leaves it there, pressed against her back, taking as much comfort from being able to touch her (to assure himself she's here, she's fine, she's with him) as she might take from him. ] So he grew up in a warzone and then ended up in the past with you.
[ he offers a smile, and a poor attempt to diffuse the tension ] At least he had a decent guide.
[ Another glance in Jim's direction has her smiling, just slightly, because she appreciates that attempt more than she can say. It doesn't entirely work, but it helps. He may not be her James, but he really is a good man all on his own merit. ]
I didn't let him order me around. He was a captain, but not Starfleet, so I argued with him and took charge and... I think it irritated him, at first. And then it didn't.
[ She looks back down at the watch in her hands as she thinks back to one of the last moments they'd shared. Her thumbs trace the curved edge of the watchface and it hurts so much to remember that moment with him on the street. The hope she'd felt that perhaps he could come with her, that this thing between them might not end in pain and heartache for her. But it had, and now she's sitting with a man who looks just like him, and— ]
I'm sorry. I know this has to be strange for you. And I know you're not him. [ Her voice strains almost to the point of breaking. ] I know that.
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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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No, it's not. [ The words end in a sob and she presses a tight fist to her mouth, trying to keep the rest of them inside. And then she forcefully brushes away those trails of salty sadness on her cheeks and shakes her head. ]
You should go. [ Each syllable is like broken glass in her throat. There's no steel in her voice, only sorrow, and she can't bring herself to look at him. She doesn't want him to leave but it hurts so much to have him stay. ]
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He knows he can't, but he wants to.
She tells him to leave and he should listen--she's in charge here, and he wants to respect her wishes--but he hesitates, struggling to leave her when she's this raw. ]
La'an--
[ He doesn't even know what to say. 'Let me help' seems selfish, 'who should I call' seems like he's okay with abandoning her, 'what can I do' seems like he's putting it too much on her shoulders. James T. Kirk doesn't like to lose, but he can't see a way to earn a win out of this situation.
Maybe, he can find a place to draw? ]
Do you want to tell me about it? Whatever it is? If it's--[ a pause, a breath ] --about the other me; you know I'll keep it between us.
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Another sob tries to climb out of her throat and she bites it down with a quiet choked sound, closing her eyes and bowing her head. But then a moment later she's moving across the room, her bare feet carrying her swiftly toward the locked compartment in the far wall. She opens it with practiced ease, the drawer sliding out with a hushed click, and then she opens the secure case within. When she turns back toward him, it's with the watch clutched in her hand, but she doesn't draw attention to it as she sits on the couch.
She feels the slightest bit calmer with the watch in her grasp. It's become like a security blanket, the only physical evidence she has that she didn't dream it all up. ]
He played chess on our first day together. We needed money and he played people in the park to earn it. [ The explanation comes out easily and her heart feels lighter. Now someone else knows too. ]
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And still.
He watches as she walks to the drawers, collects something (he thinks it's a watch, but he doesn't demand to see it--instead focusing on the way her hands curl around it, both protecting it and drawing strength from its presence) and settles on the couch.
When it's clear she really isn't going to ask him to leave again he makes his way over, slowly, perching on the edge of the couch near her. At the explanation, he nods, slight smile ghosting across his face before it's gone ]
And here I am, looking just like him and asking if you want to play chess [ He hazards, putting the pieces together ] The Universe isn't letting you catch much of a break tonight, is it?
[ The words are gentle, teasing, almost, though the object of the teasing is more the events that have transpired instead of her -- maybe it's a bad attempt at a joke, a way to lighten the mood. He wants to reach out and settle a hand on her knee, but he doesn't, keeping his hands to himself for the moment. Jim doesn't want to make it worse ]
So other me was pretty good at hustling people? I like him more the more I hear about him.
[ a quiet invitation for her to keep talking, if she wants ]
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She curls in on herself a little, her head bent forward so her hair falls over her shoulders, but she doesn't hide. Her walls are too damaged to put back up tonight, so this is the best she can do to protect herself from the emotional onslaught looming around every corner. ]
They all enjoyed it. [ Despite how much it hurts to think of him and their time together, the fondness she feels for the other James Tiberius Kirk shines through the pain. ] Everyone smiled and shook his hand, and he was so pleased with himself. He said he used to play with his first officer until she got tired of losing, and then he tried to order me to eat a hot dog.
[ The last actually brings a watery laugh out of her, though her smile fades after a moment. ] We were walking by the water and he... He stopped to look at the sunset. He'd never seen one before.
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He arches an eyebrow at the comment because how can you not have seen a sunset? but it's the only outward reaction he gives.
Instead of questioning, he hazards a guess: ] Earth was pretty different where he was from?
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Glancing over at him, she catches the last glimmer of that arched eyebrow, and so she has to explain. It's suddenly vitally important that he understands what sort of life shaped the other James Kirk. ] It was a wasteland. He said the clouds of ash wouldn't settle for a thousand years.
[ Even now, she has trouble grasping what it would be like to live in a galaxy like that. ] In his timeline, humanity had colonized a few planets, but... We didn't have allies. The Federation didn't exist, and we were losing a war with the Romulans.
[ She thinks of the way James and turned aside Spock's plea for help even after hearing how disastrous it would be for the Vulcans. The look on Spock's face... Jim doesn't need to know about that part. It might be ridiculous for her to feel protective of a man who no longer exists, especially given who that man was, but she doesn't want Jim to think badly of his other self. ]
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She continues and it only compounds the image in his head; a war with Romulans, a lack of the federation, only knowing a few planets instead of the expanse of space they have to explore now. No wonder--
--well, no wonder the man was different. Stopped to look at a sunset that Jim probably wouldn't have noticed. Ordered La'an to eat hotdogs. Hustled strangers for chess and had a great time doing it. She's not wrong, that Jim would struggle with the idea of himself turning down helping someone who was in need--but she doesn't share, so he doesn't have to factor that in his assessment.
La'an doesn't shake off his hand and so he leaves it there, pressed against her back, taking as much comfort from being able to touch her (to assure himself she's here, she's fine, she's with him) as she might take from him. ] So he grew up in a warzone and then ended up in the past with you.
[ he offers a smile, and a poor attempt to diffuse the tension ] At least he had a decent guide.
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I didn't let him order me around. He was a captain, but not Starfleet, so I argued with him and took charge and... I think it irritated him, at first. And then it didn't.
[ She looks back down at the watch in her hands as she thinks back to one of the last moments they'd shared. Her thumbs trace the curved edge of the watchface and it hurts so much to remember that moment with him on the street. The hope she'd felt that perhaps he could come with her, that this thing between them might not end in pain and heartache for her. But it had, and now she's sitting with a man who looks just like him, and— ]
I'm sorry. I know this has to be strange for you. And I know you're not him. [ Her voice strains almost to the point of breaking. ] I know that.