In From the Cold (for smartass_captain)

[conjuredskies]

 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.

Comments

[conjuredskies]

"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.

[smartass_captain]

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."

[conjuredskies]

"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.

[smartass_captain]

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."

[conjuredskies]

"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."

[smartass_captain]

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."

[conjuredskies]

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.