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

[smartass_captain]

How many weeks has Jim longed for the faint hum of warp engines underfoot once more? A comforting sound he'd only just gotten back after a year and more spent in a borrowed living quarters on Yorktown already snatched out of reach so quickly by Winter's jaws clamping down on the Nexus. How the captain has longed to have his own bed once more with his husband curled up against him, with neither one of them in pain from the cold or the hunger. To treat this Winter like a bad dream and forget all about it after a stint in the sonic and the first of many replicated cups of coffee during his shift.

Just another nightmare.

Every day he'd wake on the cot though, with Felix clinging to him for warmth. The both of them wasting away to malnutrition. A growing fatigue that never abated. Every day Isidor Durant would ask what they could do and Jim would answer because they needed to survive. Did she ever suspect he was breaking her own rules? She wouldn't have known just how this sort of situation would affect him. No one would.

Almost no one.

Jim doesn't rouse right away but his change in breathing makes Tiber squirm and get up to stretch out before the kneazle starts butting his head against Jim's face with an even louder purr to welcome him back to the land of the wakeful. Back to the ship. Back home. Whether it's the kneazle or the sounds of the ship or what--the moment the pieces of the setting fall into place he's gasping and struggling to sit up. Too weak yet to bolt about with his usual frenetic energy but the desire to is still very much intact.

How? When?

Tiber hops off of Jim to miss the worst of the weak thrashing of sheets, though he's still butting his head against the captain's side when Jim manages to drag himself up into a sitting position to try and ease the human's panicked sweating and heartrate. His mouth feels like a desert and he's dizzy already. And yet...

"Felix..?!?"

Days go by

[smartass_captain]

It takes them close to a week of rest and a heavily monitored diet before Bones will let either Jim or Felix eat completely without supervision or input. The doctor would normally expect more of a fight from Jim regarding treatment but in this case no one talks about why he's quietly accepting the doctor's input so readily. McCoy's the only one with access to his full medical records without the redactions, and Felix is the closest to knowing the full story outside of Jim himself.

He's been back to the bridge for shifts (gamma, nothing strenuous yet) in the days since but it still feels strange to be here instead of back in the Nexus. Felix still hasn't given Jim his PINpoint back. After nearly a week Jim's about ready to go snooping around for the damn thing himself.

It's "morning" when he gets off his most recent shift. Letting himself into their shared quarters and taking a look around. Tiber isn't giving him anything, so the kneazle must be asleep. It's not a guarantee Felix is though.