conjuredskies | In From the Cold (for smartass

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In From the Cold (for smartass_captain)

He might remember small things, after. Little flashes of near-consciousness.

The fall forward onto the table, all his joints locking at once. Shouting. Ice pressing around him. Voices over him. Slung over a rock and the cold of it radiates through him down to the bone. Furs wrapping him tight. There’s a long, long march where he sways on someone’s shoulder, the wind battering his face. More voices.

Then darkness. So much darkness pressing around him…

When he wakes it might take a few minutes to comprehend what’s going on. He’s warm. He’s comfortable. The noise of the café has vanished. The wind outside has gone silent. There’s just the minute hum of electricity and life-support systems around him… and a rumble from the ginger fuzzball purring atop his chest.

The faint reverberation of engines sinks in.

He’s in his quarters. He’s on the Enterprise.

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Jim grimaces at the mention of the mash, but it's honestly not surprising that actual food would probably be a poor idea at least at first after what they've gone through. Which means means he's probably even worse off. Ration bars might stay down but anything from the replicator is just asking for his enfeebled insides to mutiny.

"I don't suppose Bones left you any instructions for when I woke up aside from going to see him...?" He doesn't relish the idea of heading down to the medbay just yet. Facing Bones and his completely reasonable questions that Jim won't have an answer for. Or at least, won't want to give an answer for.

And for all his stomach twists painfully at the thought of food within reach, there's a strong urge to just go back to sleep lingering too. Probably not a great sign right now though.

"Not to let you pass out again before you ate something. On pain of a trip to the sickbay." And to call him, of course, but Bones had to know Felix would take that as optional. But making Jim eat? The conjurer's all in favor of that. If Jim sleeps without food he'll just get weaker and sleepier.

He pushes himself back on the floor and starts the process of clambering wearily to his feet. Then extends a hand to Jim. "...Come on, beloved. It's your turn to be looked after."

Jim watches Felix struggle to get to his feet. He can't understand the tumultuous warring emotions that mingle unwanted in his chest. Licking flames of anger that dance away when the heavy iron weight of worry presses against his ribs instead. A fierce pride that swells when his betrothed finds his feet that chills and withers to shame that leaves Jim without breath. It's all too much at once and never has one person meant so much to him before.

He's felt conflicted before about people. Friends and more but nothing like this. Nothing like this sea of swirling currents that threaten to pull him under but for the hand extended toward him to pull the captain up to his feet. It's too much. Jim's too exhausted yet. Clammy hands grip onto Felix's and allow the mage to pull Jim up to his own two shaky feet. Nothing is going to be processed either emotionally or logically until he's had a chance to rest.

"I'm not so great at that." It's the least Jim can admit to, knowing that by now Felix will be aware at least somewhat of how bad off Jim was when Felix brought him away if Bones has had a chance to look him over. "Anywhere's got to be more comfortable than the floor though."

Felix is usually more cautious. More aware that wounded feelings and causes for anger don't simply vanish. But he's exhausted in so many ways, and for now it's too easy to believe that Jim is - not happy, but on the way to forgiving him.

Felix wants to believe it'll be that simple.

They both have to catch their balance as Jim's pulled to his feet. Felix grabs at Jim's arm and holds him steady, hopeful affection all over his face.

"We don't have to go far." Just over to the couch. He nudges Jim to sit down, pushes the uneaten food aside roughly before he goes to get more of that mash stuff. "Eat what you can, and then we'll see if you can manage a shower before you rest."

It's not the worst Jim's ever been. Experience helps tamp down on the urge to eat as much as he can get his hands on no matter how tasteless. It's food, sustenance, nutrition and he needs it badly. But Jim also knows what will wait for him if he rushes this so he makes himself sit up straight rather than hunching over the bowl. Forces himself to take his time with every measured bite.

It's a blessed reprieve from everything Jim can't make himself focus on yet. Counting and waiting taking up all of his active thoughts. It leaves Felix time for his own hopes. His own denial. It's easy to think everything is moving toward being fine. Tiber's curled up on the far end of the couch purring with contentment for having Jim back. He knows well enough not to curl up on Jim yet.

Unease flickers through Jim's expression as he strips for the shower but it only lasts a couple of seconds. He feels like he hasn't been entirely bare like this for months and the thought of wasting water jolts him awake just enough for him to remember they're on the ship. A sonic is much less worrisome for him now. He needs a deep, long bath at some point but not tonight. They'd both drown in the tub when they inevitably pass out. It's with a numb autopilot that Jim brushes his hair and teeth. Things he hasn't had the luxury to worry about now a small comfort.

Jim's clean. Fed. Safe.

It will still have to be Felix who lays them down together but he may not notice that. Jim doesn't pull away from him. There's no energy left to do anything but relent to the siren call of sleep for some time...

Felix isn't as restrained as Jim, but luckily he's more focused on making sure Jim eats than inhaling his own meal. Reaching out to stroke Tiber's back in reassurance. Helping Jim strip off and wash and getting them both into bed.

This time he can curl up with Jim. Wrap an arm over his waist and relax against him and sleep... a little easier, this time. There'll be Bones to inform, but that's when he wakes. There'll be dreams, but he won't remember them.

For now, he's content with his reward.

It'll be a while before he rouses again. Makes himself get up and see to clearing up the room.

Jim doesn't rouse when Felix does, at least not at first. The captain lays in bed and listens to the conjurer move about the room with eyes closed.How untroubled his movements are. Lazy from sleep and relaxed. As though all of their friends and companions weren't suffering in some distant date because not even time is the same here as it was.

His stomach twists. Equal parts hunger and disgust.

Jim waits until Felix has excused himself to the shared bathroom before he slips out of bed and pulls on his clothes. Sets the replicator to make him a plain turkey sandwich (should be bland enough to stay down Jim hopes) while he pulls on a clean uniform for the first time in months. He doesn't wait for Felix to come out before he leaves, taking the food with him.

It feels almost unreal marching down the halls of the Enterprise-A after so long being kept from the thrumming hum of her engines. Smooth (but different from the old Enterprise's, Jim hasn't yet forgotten her heartbeat for this one) and comforting. Home.

Yet, somehow. Not where he belongs right now.

Still, he puts on his best face and greets everyone who wishes him well. Waylays any concerns that arise for the captain's well being. A flu, they would have been told. While the truth lay buried in the cold weeks from now in some alternate reality they'll never return to--a world where the crew had to deal with Jim's disappearance. Maybe it's because he's spent so long in the Nexus that he thinks of that so readily. The what if's pile up on top of each other as a distraction from what's eating away at him.

"If it ain't on fire I don't wanna hear about--Jim!" The doctor's startle only adds to Jim's guilt. Torn between a duty he has to his people here--his family--and the people he's left back in the Nexus however unwillingly. Jim puts up suspiciously little fuss as he follows McCoy back into his office and starts nibbling at his sandwich while the doctor locks the door.

"Don't ask. I know you're going to but please. Don't. We were stuck somewhere cold and dark without enough to eat for weeks. That's all you need to know." Jim doesn't want to have to go further. Bones waves the explanation off when he turns around.

"I coulda told you that when Caelus brought you both in. Felix, I mean." That's taking some getting used to yet. "He explained enough of it. What am I missing?"

"...We were the only two who escaped. The others are still there." It's out of a determined need to recover that Jim's eating now. His stomach feels like a lead weight inside of him eating while he thinks of their faces.

"Son of a bitch. No wonder you're half dead." Bones knows just enough to understand why Jim would have been worse off. There was someone to save. Others, too, from the sound of it. Jim's head won't be here on the ship while they're still in danger. "You'd be mad to go back. You were half dead when you got here."

"I can't go back. Not yet, anyway." Captain Kirk glances around the office before he forces the rest of his meager meal down. "I'm too weak yet and we'd only be stuck again or punished for leaving in the first place."

"I won't say I'm sorry he brought you back, Jim." McCoy sees the fire in Jim's gaze when the captain snaps it onto his best friend. He knows nothing is that easy for Jim Kirk. "If you can't go back then--"

"I need to focus on what I can do. Recover. Right?" There's bitterness in Jim's words but not denial. He gets up from where he's been leaning against Bones' desk and settles himself next to the doctor and dutifully rolls up one sleeve so Bones can get to work looking him over.

Focus on what he can do now.

Like have a talk with his husband.

There's a stabbing jolt of fear when he comes out of the bathroom and finds Jim gone. A moment's panic before Felix realizes he can't possibly have gone far. The PINpoints still don't work, and he hid them away for good measure. If Jim's not in the room then he must still be on the ship. Up to the bridge, or to see the doctor. He's never felt the confinement of a ship to be a mercy until now.

He didn't wait to tell Felix he was awake, though. Felix ignores the dancing unease in his stomach. Jim's never been a patient man, and he's likely too tired yet to want to deal with more conversation than necessary. He probably decided just to see his crew and get that part over with.

That must be it.

Which leaves Felix... at a loose end. No Jim to tend to. No bowls left to tidy up. Tiber fed and his water changed. He collapses onto the couch, digs his phone out to send a message to Stratos. But then he's alone with his thoughts for the first time in hours.

He still can't regret anything. There's a twinge of guilt when he remembers Isidor's face. Danny's fear. He tries to imagine what his father would say and he cringes a little in the silence. Caeluses are people of duty, honor, loyalty. His aunt Arvenna and her legion defended the walls of the Imperial City to the last man. Uncle Hesperus killed himself with the strain of keeping his fellow soldiers alive out in the desert. Both his parents risked their lives in the Great War. A hundred generations of ancestors who stood and fought and died with their comrades, for their Emperor, in the name of duty.

So his actions weren't entirely becoming of his lineage. But Felix has always been the one to flirt with disgrace.

And the truth is, if he asks himself: would he rather they'd stayed? Would he have made a different choice, given the chance to do it again? Every fiber of his being screams a shrill and silent 'NO.'

No. He did the only thing that Felix Caelus could do. The others with their machines and their magic and their warriors will be fine.

Felix gets some tea - the warmth is a comfort - but after that the only thing he has strength to do is curl up with a book to stare at.

And wait.

Creaky floorboards don't exist in this world, but Felix has a bit of a tell that Jim's coming back in Tiber popping his head up from where he was sleeping all of a sudden, tail twitching back and forth in agitation before the kneazle hops down and makes a beeline for the door. Gives a butt wriggle before leaping up onto Jim's shoulder and trilling right in his ear to check and see what's bothering his bonded human.

The captain sighs and reaches up to ruffle Tiber's fur between his ears but he's setting the kneazle down almost immediately after. Now is not time for plays or for attention. No distractions, this time.

Jim doesn't bother kicking off his boots before he moves further into the quarters to face Felix where he's spread out on the couch.

"We need to talk."

Well, those are words to make his heart sink. Felix already set his book down when Tiber stirred, but now the slight smile for Jim's arrival is wiped from his face. The conjurer pulls himself up straighter, eyes searching his husband's expression.

"Very well. I think we covered the important parts earlier, but..." It's only natural Jim would have questions. Problems. Try not to dwell on that thought...

"Where do you want to start?" he asks quietly.

The important parts, he says. Like how it's impossible to go back and how they're no longer in the right time to do it anyway. Like how Winter has some kind of a contract its trying to get (Reynard is trying to get?) met to further a goal. Something Felix has only circumvented through dangerous negotiations. The price of which...

"What did it cost to get us out of the Nexus? You didn't answer me before." Jim's sure he'd remember that, no matter how out of it he was. Felix sidestepped then but Jim's taking a step closer now.

"You hid all of this from me. You're Still hiding things from me."

"Just an artifact I had. Nothing we'll miss," is his first reply, because it's true: he never did tell Jim about his dealings with Nocturnal. Never drew any attention to the silver-grey hood rolled up among his things, let alone explained its origin. And now? It's a long story, and one that might not make a lot of sense to Jim. What matters is that Felix reassures him.

And, well. Felix really doesn't talk much about his conjuration. Not to his friends, not his family. Not to the people of his world, who will judge, nor to those of the Nexus, who won't understand. And not to Jim.

"I'm sorry," he says, wary of the look on Jim's face but perhaps misinterpreting the captain's anger. "I told you, I had to hide my plan from you or it would never have worked."

"Felix I have an entire ship worth of 'artifacts' if that's all it takes to appease your daedra."

It can't be so simple and Jim knows it isn't. Anger ripples beneath his skin that Felix thinks he'd buy such a flimsy evasion. That Jim is taking every possible chance for Felix to explain himself and the mage is bound and determined to make the captain feel like a fool for putting that trust into Felix in the first place.

Jim grits his teeth. If he opens his mouth now, there's no telling what would come out. This is his husband for crying out loud. Jim can't just go picking a fight with him but Felix makes him want to so badly. They don't talk about the Many reasons people tell Jim not to trust Felix. They don't talk about Rielle or what lead to it. They don't talk about Felix's conjuration in any great detail. The captain's hardly ever seen Felix do his chosen field of magic.

It's always done hidden away, snuck off into the night whether on the ship or in the Nexus or even in Jim's house in Iowa. Felix clearly doesn't trust Jim with his talents. And yet every time there's trouble Jim's right there to rationalize that Felix meant well. Put his actions in the best light possible.

He loves Felix Caelus with all his heart but goddamn does Jim want to punch his teeth in right now.

"Is this just how it's going to be? You really think I'm going to keep turning the other cheek every time you sneak off to circumvent my goals. Open up to you when you hide everything that makes you who you are no matter how much I say I want to help and learn about you?" How many more times is Jim going to have to charge blindly into a hellscape of Felix's own creation with little more to go on than his own desperation?

He used to get angry when people were so eager to speak ill of Felix. Jim still gets angry about it. But with all of Felix's gods as his witness, Jim does understand them. Again he bites his tongue because to say more would mean treading into waters that are dangerous at best. But it's a pressure of unspoken words building. The captain knows he's far from blameless or perfect. That Felix only acted like this because Jim pushed himself so hard. Felix didn't even try to reason with Jim or ask to talk.

"This can't happen again." Every word is measured, weighed carefully. He's definitely not recovered enough to go to the gym to let off some steam and that lack of outlet for his temper is only making this more difficult.

Jim's flat rebuttal stops him cold. Felix falls silent, eyes on every shift and clench in the captain's expression. He's not allowed to kid himself about what Jim really wants to know. Not any more.

Secrecy has always been a necessity, from the first time he stole off to his room with a borrowed tome on daedra. Every night he slipped into the snows or the woods with a satchel of salts and candles, every coded journal tucked into his pack, every quiet rendezvous by the light of a bonfire. Hiding away from his family's disapproval, his people's fear and disdain, from the Vigil's undiscriminating crackdowns, even from the danger of amateurish imitators.

Secrecy is a habit as ingrained as tying his boots on properly. It's not something he thinks about, for the most part. It's just the way you do things. It's the way that's best for everyone.

Unless your husband is from a different world and lives by another set of rules entirely.

Felix listens. Winces a little when Jim calls him out on the one-sidedness of the honesty between them. But there's a well of simmering emotions lying untapped in him too, and they're beginning to bubble over. Fear and hurt and anger and guilt, because yes, there's so much in the captain's words he can recognize.

"What should I have done, then? Let you tear yourself apart trying to save them all single-handed? Allowed you to stop me from saving you? Stood by and watched you get yourself killed?You would never have agreed to leave."

An unwanted remnant of a memory stabs into Jim's chest and he very nearly shouts that yes Felix should have let him but he stops. It's an unfair request and Jim knows it. They're promised to be wed and that means Jim can't be so cavalier about his own life anymore. He's been trying so hard to be better about it but in this specific case old habits reared their ugly sallow cheeked heads.

"You should have pulled me aside and demanded to talk like I'm doing now." Jim knows his voice is trembling and he's not sure if he's more angry with himself or Felix in this moment. There's guilt in his words too. "When I decided to do this I knew I was giving you my life. I know I'm completely worthless at taking care of it but I do realize there's a reason to now. It would've been a fucking painful conversation but it needed to happen and it didn't."

Jim's at fault too and he knows it. Normally he'd try to dodge that but he won't run away from a poor conversation when that's exactly what he's accusing Felix of doing. The captain's got too much pride for that. Which...might have been part of the problem in the first place.

"I needed to leave, you're right. But us leaving isn't all I'm talking about. It's the rest of it. The way it happened." Opening up all the closets full of skeletons in his heart and meeting nothing but closed doors when he tries to look in turn.

"How can I have a conversation with you about what our options are if you won't tell me anything?"

It's disarming, that kind of admission. Jim owning up to his own self-destructive actions instead of the protest Felix was braced for. Calling the Imperial out for assuming his betrothed couldn't or wouldn't see his point of view. Wouldn't care enough to stop what he was doing.

"I couldn't take the chance," he murmurs yet, albeit weakly. "Not again."

But that's not Jim's point, is it? Felix isn't aware of the way he's drawn his arms close, wrapping them around himself. "You... want me to tell you when I'm working on a ritual...?"

"That's not your decision to make alone."

It can't be that way for either of them anymore. No matter how headstrong or secretive they may be to others, Jim doesn't want those walls up between them. Can't imagine holding Felix at arm's length for most anything. He's holding his anger in check just barely because of that want. Whether Jim will give himself the credit or not he has matured in the years since they first started dating. If this argument had happened earlier, well.

They wouldn't be having a conversation so much as a shouting match and one of them--most likely Jim-- would have stormed off by now so as to avoid a very physical fight.

This is a Jim who recognizes his own mistakes more readily. One who has already faced hell itself for Felix. An argument, no matter how severe, isn't going to make Jim put Them at risk. He sucks in a breath and holds it until he feels his pulse calm down ever so slightly. Lets it out in a drawn out sigh.

"Yes. I don't know hardly anything about your conjuration. To what end you do it, how it works, why you favor it. Nothing. i'm not asking to become your apprentice or the like, but. Goddammit Felix, everything about you is important to me and I can't support you if I'm ignorant. I can't know there's another option or even a chance at one if I don't know what you can do. And for as much as I've told you about everything you ask of me, I can't understand why you hide so much from me."

"Because it's..." He looks so confused. There's a tiny, aborted shake of his head. "It's something you do alone. Or... with people you can stand to lose. Because it's dangerous, and it's... most people find it disturbing."

And maybe Jim is utterly unlike most people of Tamriel. Maybe he can stomach or at least tolerate what they recoil from. But on the other hand...

"The last time I performed a major ritual," he starts, and his fingers dig tighter into his shirt, scrunching the pale blue cloth in his grip, "the last time was..."

Rielle. All that led him there. The things he never wants to talk about, or to bring up in any shape or form. His secrecy sure as hell didn't start there but in some ways it's gotten worse since then. He draws a shuddering breath, trying to make himself calm down and not really succeeding. He does manage to look up at Jim properly.

"I didn't want you to think about that. Or you and Stratos to start worrying again." Thinking he was up to something. Wanting to watch over him. Monitor him. It was more than he wanted to deal with.

Jim sees Felix begin to break and he knows it's too late. Too far. Poison is in Felix's veins as sure as it is in Jim's and his heart aches even as the captain clenches his jaw and holds his ground. He'd been holding back from speaking up too much to stop Felix from ending up here but it's no use in the end.

They both have dark places just waiting to swallow them up inside.

"You thought about me and Tarsus when you made up your mind, didn't you?" It's not an accusation this time. Jim has to will himself not to shake or lose the food he's eaten in the nausea that surfaces thinking about it. Speaking about it aloud. "You think about it all the time, whenever I'm hurting. You' can't not because you worry about me. Because you love me. Because you know and you can't un-know."

Jim reaches out with one hand and rather than grabbing Felix he gently places that hand on his husband's shoulder and steadies him instead.

"That's how I think about Rielle. And I know that's where you're going right now. I tried not to...I don't want you to relive trauma. That's not what I'm asking. But what you do now--it's not the same. It can't be the same because you still do it. You enjoy it. It's what you used to do Before that."

However close conjuration and necromancy are Jim knows they're not the same thing and he knows better than to assume Felix is heading that way again. Not after everything. The scar on his shoulder. The streak in his hair. No, Felix regrets that. Jim's certain of it.

His normal rituals are different. The how may be similar but the why and to what end matter just as much.

"I don't want to be a parent to you Felix. I want to be your goddamned husband. Supportive. A...hell. A confidant."

"It was on your mind. Eating at you until there was nothing left. I could see it..." See the shadow whispering in Jim's ear. Every time Felix handed him his rations. Every time Jim carefully separated out a portion he deemed enough. Every time the Imperial chose not to stare and bit back his anger at whatever voice in his captain's mind was telling him that was all he deserved. All he was worth.

And now here he is calling out the shadow at Felix's elbow. It's not the same, nowhere near the same. Tarsus wasn't Jim's fault. And conjuration isn't the same as necromancy but-

"And if you... don't like... the things I tell you?" He looks up at Jim warily, those strands of white peeking out through one side of his messy hair. It's hard to let go of such a habit. Harder to admit that he might have done anything wrong in sticking to it. But Jim is so earnest. So kind and loving and Felix wants to believe if there's anyone he can trust it's him.

The whispers are still there, memories Jim can't rid himself of no matter how much time has passed. No matter how much he says he's moved on the wounds still linger. Raw as the day they were gouged into him whenever they're pressed upon. This Winter was a cruel reminder. Close enough that Jim could see himself being swallowed up but could do nothing to stop it. And he'd willing step back into those shadows knowing that Isidor and his other friends were all suffering still.

Without the experience Jim has, how good are their chances? By now Isidor must have learned much from him. She's competent, willing to make the hard choices no one wants to make. Willing to shoulder hate and ridicule if it means they all survive. And so Jim is angry, yes. Angry he was taken away from a situation where he could help. Where he could try to prevent anyone else form having the memories he does. The desperation he did to do whatever necessary to secure enough food for himself and those important to him.

"Do you like everything I tell you? You can't approve of half of the things I choose to do...." The hand not steadying Felix's shoulder reaches up to cup his cheek gently, fingers brushing that streak of white but not lingering on it.

"I know it's not easy. I've lied my way through every day of my life up until...you."

"You're always trying to do things for the greater good. Makes it bloody hard to argue with you." So, sometimes it's easier to skip that part.

He closes his eyes at the warm hand on his cheek. Lets out a shuddering exhale that carries all the tension wound up in his chest. There's a part of his soul still jealously unwilling to uncurl itself from the secrets he's guarded so long and with so much deception. The parts of himself he's kept hidden from everyone. Even Jim.

And it's that gentle reminder of how much Jim understands that finally cracks those walls. That sense of how much pain and shame Jim has unfolded to him and how unfair it is that Felix has never done the same in turn. He always tried to tell Jim he wasn't perfect, but he was never brave enough to show the captain what he meant.

His cheeks are damp when he finally nods. Felix doesn't notice. He opens his eyes and lifts them to Jim, unfolds an arm and reaches up to cup his hand over his betrothed's.

"Put that way I... guess I owe you some answers."

Jim snorts.

How can Felix still believe that about him? He's seen Jim be petty, seen him jealous, irrational, stubborn. He's seen Jim be selfish and yet he still puts the man up on a pedestal. Sometimes he wonders if Felix thinks that low of himself or if Jim's self assessment of himself is still that twisted. He'd like to think he's gotten better about that over the years but it's difficult to tell to be honest.

He could argue the point. James T. Kirk is stubborn as a mule. His words vanish with the tears that slip down Felix's face. He can read the shame in the mage's features and even if he should feel that way Jim can't help how his heart breaks a little to see Felix like this. He's glad beyond words when Felix covers Jim's hand with his rather than pulling away.

Jim can't not ask anymore. He hopes there will come a time when he doesn't have to, but the concession is a step forward. So he nods slowly, tipping his head until his forehead is touching Felix's.

"Thank you."

For once the Imperial doesn't have words to offer. Doesn't know if he ought to accept that thanks or gently protest. Doesn't think he can speak the things that make his chest tighten and his heart ache.

So he doesn't say a word. He just reaches up to wrap his hands around Jim's arms and tug the captain down onto the couch beside him. Let him just hold Jim close and know he's all right. Everything else is just... details.

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In From the Cold (for smartass_captain)

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