faderift | [ Open ] Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

Entry tags:

[ Open ] Sweet Dreams Are Made of This

WHO: Jim Kirk & You
WHAT: Jim left a written request, and now awaits replies
WHEN: From Kingway 9 and on for a couple days, can be morning or evening (or another time if pre-arranged)
WHERE: The Skyhold Gardens
NOTES: Possible cursing, possibly discussion of death

His stomach twisted as he paced the pathways of the gardens, turning the silver band on his wrist over and over. A nervous habit, the need to fidget, but he couldn't stop it. He kept looking down, expecting to see something else there - the sleeve of a uniform, or the brush of a soft leather jacket. He could still feel those things on him, the sleekness of the cloth, their familiar weight. He wanted to reach up and strip them off, but they weren't there and they had never been. Had they?

He bit his lip sharply, nearly drawing blood as the gravel crunched beneath his boots. He shouldn't think on it to much, he told himself. Not until he had spoken with someone else, someone who might no more. Perhaps it was just something brought on by recent events, by the stress of a child's torture and death, by the stress of being an outsider and not belonging. Maybe his mind had simply supplied him with wishful imaginings when he was most vulnerable. And yet... and yet...

No. Stop. Wait until you could speak to someone and sort it out then. Drawing conclusions before you had all the data was one of the worst mistakes he could make, and he wasn't about to start now.

He just had to hope someone had answers.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"You're saying that in the span of a night, while you slept, you experienced three years worth of life experience, years you didn't experience in person." He's just recapping to make sure that he's following the issue correctly.

"I can only imagine how that feels. Are you concerned on how it happened or is it the memories that are bothering you?"

"No, I - it feels like I did experience. I know I experienced those things in person. I know I did because I didn't dream them. I mean, I did but - God, I hate this!" he snarled, jerking to his feet in frustration.

He let out a shaking breath, taking up his pacing again.

"Both? Worried about how it happened, worried about... about what it means if I ever go back."

"Will go back," he corrects softly. He's being the optimist of the two, believing that Kirk and the others will be able to return to their worlds once this is all over. His words are tinged with something as he says them, though it's only for a moment and Sam doesn't let it reflect on his features.

"I'd bet anything that it has something to do with the shard. It's some how able to reach out to other worlds... perhaps it tried grabbing a different you here, but since you're here... it only funneled in the memories?"

He gave him the tiniest smile for that, wanting to be optimistic too, even though his mind felt fragmented in so many different directions at the moment. He caught the undertone, that feeling that isn't spoken, and he felt it too - a brief tightness in his chest. He didn't expect to come to care for someone quite like he cared for Sam, but he did, and it would mean leaving a part of his soul behind here.

"Perhaps," he murmured. It certainly sounded plausible, but just about anything did right now. He came to a stop in front of Sam, licking his lips. "I'm just trying to understand what it means and if it's truly real."

Sam returns the smile, reaching out once more to brush fingers along Kirk's arm, this time against the bracelet. "Well you aren't alone with that. I don't know about memories... but us mages do know the issues with picking out what's real and what isn't. It's not a simple task. It's easier if you try to think about it slowly rather then all at once."

He let out a breath and nodded, moving to touch Sam's hand with his own, wrapping his fingers around it and squeezing. He moved to sit down beside him once more, fiddling with his bracelet, a motion that was fast becoming a habit with him.

"I can accept most of the memories," he said softly. "Three years worth, but it's the last half of third that's hard to imagine. Which of course makes me think that it is in fact a memory and not something I made up."

It hadn't occurred to him that the bracelet would be used for anything, but he's glad if it is helping.

"I probably won't know what most of the stuff is, but... would you like to talk about it?" Get it off his chest?

Would he? He knew he should. Talking about it was healthy, and maybe if he said it all aloud he would sound much less insane than he did in his own head. He worried at the bracelet for a little longer before taking that first, deep breath that was the universal prelude to a long tale.

"We were in a place called York Town..." he began, the words coming slowly at first and then rushing, pouring out him in a steady stream as he related the tale of his encounters with Krall, of discovering his plans, and also whom he had been, what he had meant to the Fleet's history, and now to his own.

Sam just allows for Kirk to talk, asking for clarification very little since they were probably mute points. The troubles Kirk faced with these new memories, life in an enclosed space with the same people, he found himself relating to an extent. Even Krall... it didn't sound all too different to their current war with Corypheus though drastically different at the same time.

"Sounds like you had a very full three years."

"Certainly does, doesn't it?" he said, sagging into the bench and looking up at the blue sky, as if he might find answers there since the earth seemed less than forthcoming.

He reached out, touching Sam's hand, brushing his thumb across the back.

"I wish I could show you the things I saw," he murmured.

"Shame we don't have that magical illness going around." The smile he gives is slight as he teases about it, remembering back to when James first came to the room. The dreams hadn't been great but the rest of the night had been quite something.

Sam just leaves his hand there, enjoying the feel, every once in a while lifting a finger to brush the underside of Kirk's wrist.

He smiled back, remembering that night - their first night together, the night that had really begun all of this. The dreams had indeed not been pleasant, but the outcome? Well, he couldn't argue with the outcome, now could he? Though in the end, he thought, it would bring pain. He would have to leave Sam behind and the thought made his heart ache and his stomach clench.

"Maybe you'll have to settle for my poor drawings," he chuckled, leaning against him slightly.

Honestly it was probably Kirk running into him for being a sausage thief that started it, but that night with fevers had sealed everything. He liked where they had ended up though there were nights where he laid awake wondering about when the rifts would take everyone back.

"Hm," he hums lightly, leaning in as well to support better. "Your drawings are pretty poor." Not that he has much skill himself, but really he's just teasing, trying lightly Kirk's spirits just a bit.

"I don't know, I thought my rendition of "Leonard in Repose" was quite masterful," he chuckled under his breath, shifting his grip on Sam's hand to lace their fingers.

He had gone home. He was sure of it - he had gone home, for three whole years and experienced all those things. He had gone home and he couldn't remember a single time speaking of Sam to anyone on the ship. Not Bones. Not Spock. And those two surely he would speak to of Sam, of the man he spent so much time with on this crazy world. And that scared him. It scared him to the marrow of his bones, because as painful as it would be to leave Sam, it seemed even more painful to forget him. To live with that empty whole inside of his heart and not know whom had once filled it.

"Next I'll have to try doing a few portraits of you."

"You did. I don't think Leonard thought much of it." He had literally just smelled it and indifferently laid over it, making sure he was the center of attention.

He doesn't look, but feeling their fingers lace has Sam smiling. "I'm sure I'd be a better paint subject - I can actually sit still. If you want a really nice one we can always get an artist to do it." He's sure your drawing will be lovely though, Kirk.

"I think that was actually a rave review from a cat," he snorted, remembering that particular experiment and simply accepting that of course a cat would not believe that a simple sketch of him would be worth of more attention than himself.

"Oh, I think I had best be the drawer. The sort of poses I have in mind are not for public consumption, shall we say?" he smirked, an attempt of his own to lighten the mood even as his fingers tightened on Sam's, thumb brushing across the back of his hand as it had been doing before, drawing small circles.

"Dear Maker-" he says softly with a huff, shaking his head slowly at the ground, all the while grinning. Kirk had some of the most wild ideas at times. "Exactly what kind of poses are you expecting me to hold while you draw?"

"Not hold," he shook his head, looking down at their hands as he spoke, and despite the obvious display he did not pull away from it. He needed it right now, that particular contact, the real physicality of Sam's touch. "Something more candid. Like you tangled up in the sheets, or cuddled up with the cats."

"With the cats? You know they aren't going to stay still that long for you to draw unless you plan on getting that while we're all sleeping." He can see where Kirk is looking and Sam makes a point in not giving it too much attention. There was something about public displays that got to Kirk, so Sam just let him enjoy them quietly. "Tangled up? Do I have pants?"

"It can happen. They're incredibly lazy when there's some place warm to curl up into," he pointed out, glancing out of the corner of his eye to Sam and smirking slightly. "No, of course not. You're in our bed. Why would you have pants there?"

Our bed. How long ago had it turned from 'your' or 'my' bed to that? It was certainly a phrase he enjoyed hearing.

The smirk certainly has him turning towards Kirk a bit more, brows raised in the way that showed pretend surprised curiosity. "Oh so it's that kind of drawing." He knew of course, but it was better having Kirk say it - and it certainly seemed to distract the captain. "Should I ask what side you'll be capturing?"

Who really knew? He didn't much notice his word choice, and he could always rationalize it in the fact they did, indeed, share a bed. It saved on space, it was comfortable, and it was not as if he and Sam did not enjoy intimacy together. It brought him comfort, Sam's presence at his back or against his chest, his scent and the beat of his heart in his ear. Perhaps after nearly five months, possibly more, it was time to give up a battle and default to what the reality was - "ours".

"Hmm, well, any side will do since they're all your good side," he mused aloud. "Though, maybe your back? I do like your shoulders, and the bear skin doesn't have to cover every part of you, after all."

"That's you subtly - not subtly - saying you just want me laying on the pelt completely naked, showing off my ass-ets." Sam gives a soft snort at that, nudging Jim in the side as he speaks, brows raised in amusement.

"Are you going to draw me like one of your cat girls, Kirk?"

Laughter cracked out of Kirk's mouth, placing his free hand over it to muffle the noise as he bent slightly over, shoulders heaving. He couldn't say why he found that ridiculous pun so funny, but he did, and he could feel some of the tension leaking away because of it. Tears pricked the corner of his eyes as he sat up, panting and shaking his head as the sudden fit passed.

"You'll be the prettiest cat girl, I promise," he wheezed.

Well that was a bit more effective then he thought, brows raised high as he watches Kirk fall into a fit of laughter. Sam had expected maybe a grin and a rolling of eyes for it, so getting this reaction certainly brings a wide grin to his face.

"Cat girl?" Sam wrinkles his nose playfully at that. "Don't you mean cat boy? And are you honestly going to draw a tail on me?"

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