faderift | I watched you in another life

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I watched you in another life

WHO: Samouel Gareth & Jim Kirk
WHAT: Time traveling can wear down on you, and Sam is having a hard time processing some of the things he's seen/heard
WHEN: Backdated to after TTT team returns, but before Kirkwall
WHERE: Skyhold
NOTES: Content warnings of sad, fluff, language, and stuff

Safe, warm, quiet, the smell of heat and wood, a firm presence against his back, the soft puff of breath at the base of his neck. All the familiar things of being home, in his bed, in his time. Normally this was enough to settle him in the evenings and lull him to sleep, but as of late Sam found it becoming harder and harder to find rest, his dreams immediately feeding off his memories of his time in the future, repeating over and over and over. They kept him awake, laying there quietly and trying to listen and feel the things around him instead until exhaustion pulled the blanket of sleep over him.

Sometimes he could sleep through the night, other times it was a struggle to stay asleep. Tonight was one of those nights, the restless ones, muttering and tossing in his sleep until his eyes shot open with a breath. Thankfully this time he had not shot up into a sitting position. There was still the heavy breathing and cold sweat on his brow though, which ultimately forced him to remove himself from his current position to take a seat at the edge of the bed, rubbing his face tiredly and with frustration.

Another dream. Another nightmare.

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At first, Kirk's natural instinct had been to disbelieve Sam and his tale of time travel. It sounded to fantastical, which was perhaps being hypocritical considering he knew it was entirely possible. He just didn't think it possible with magic. The energies required seemed, to him, to great to imagine someone conjuring it up from nothing. But regardless of his beliefs, something had happened to Sam, something disturbing - all in the space it took Kirk to blink. That he couldn't deny, so he gave what comfort he could to Sam in the days following his return (or lack of it from Kirk's point of view).

He felt Sam shift in the bed, attuned to the sudden motions now, that shift of weight both sudden and more controlled. Quietly he pushed himself up, shifting across the mattress to settle behind Sam and wrap his arms around him, ignoring the clamminess from the cold sweat. He pressed his forehead to the back of Sam's head, letting him know he wasn't alone.

"More bad dreams?" He guessed, no stranger to them himself. It was more a question to get him talking than needing clarification.

Distracted with his thoughts he doesn't notice right away that he had disturbed his bed partner, not until he's being touched. There's a small jerk of surprise when that happens, showing just how out of it Sam really was at the moment, though quickly settling into the embrace.

"Yeah" he replies quietly, voice strained from the lack of sleep and emotional turmoil. He clears his throat after that but doesn't say more. Mostly it is because he isn't sure what to say, a bit scared if he really thinks about it.

"Yeah."

Kirk frowned softly at the simple words, hiding much in those two little syllables. He couldn't see beyond them, which frustrated him. But without the other telling him more, there was little he could do but offer the comfort he knew how to give. He knew what had helped him through his nightmares all these years, and he simply hoped they could help Samouel too. He would rather not introduce him to medicinally regulating it if it could be helped, but honestly he was thinking about going to see the Medicine Seller at the rate this was happening.

"Come on, Sam, you can talk to me," he urged gently, reaching for a cloth he kept at the bedside to wipe down Sam's cold sweat. "It was about the future again." Not a guess. A statement. He was more than confident he was right on that part.

He doesn't flinch at Kirk guessing exactly what was bothering him - not that it was really hard to tell - but it does have Sam shifting a bit uncomfortably when he gives a curt nod in response. The nightmares weren't getting better, that was obvious, and not talking to Kirk about it in fuller detail was probably not helping either.

The silence stretches as Sam mulls over Kirk's words before his hand reaches up to grab Jim's, making him stop in his cleanup; he's thankful of course for it, but at the moment he didn't need any distractions. "To get back to here... I had to watch a lot of people die. Including you." A heavy exhale follows his words as if saying it got a bit of weight off him chest.

Oh.

He had no immediate answer for that, but could anyone? How do you respond to someone telling you that they say you die in the future - and not a very far off future, at that? It was weighty to hear on its own, but if nothing else Kirk could console himself that it was only a possibly future, and not one writ in stone.

"I'm sorry," he said instead, because it felt like one of the only things he could say. "I'm sorry you saw that. But that was then and this is now, and I'm alive and here, and what you saw isn't gospel truth. It can be changed."

Judging by Jim's silence he hadn't been expecting to hear that, probably didn't enjoy hearing that. Who liked hearing that they were going to die? Yes, it was inevitable that it would happen, but that didn't change actually hearing someone tell you it happened.

He's not sure what 'gospel' is, but he knows what Kirk is talking about. He gets that it could change now that he and the others have come back, but that doesn't change having seen it and the other information he knew. It doesn't help that being a mage made his dreams more vivid and couldn't forget them upon waking.

Kirk's words, he knows they're said to calm him down, they do in a way, but at the same time they make the mage frown, his hand squeezing a bit tighter. "Does it change what you said to me in the future?"

A frown curled his brows, fingers brushing along the length of his arm absently, an unconscious show of affection and comfort.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I suppose that depends on what was said, and what happened between now and then." It was an honest answer, at least, and he knew no other way to respond to such a question, not without knowing more. Though, if he was being honest with himself, his stomach twisted to know, wondering if he had said something horrid to Samouel before the end.

God, would he do that? Would he try and hurt him?

"Well when we first met in the future you were convinced that I was some sort of imposter and started shaking me in the middle of the street, because you believed I died five years prior." It was strange to know that a week from now would be the time the future Kirk had started to believe that, when none of them returned from the temple.

Talking about that particular moment does have Sam smiling slightly, just the corners of his mouth twitching upward. At the time it had not been funny, and honestly a bit upsetting, but now thinking back - or was it forward - on it, it seemed a bit amusing. Course he's only bringing this up since he's trying to help Kirk understand where his future self was coming from.

Sam takes a deep breath then, staring at nothing in particular, still not turning to face Kirk yet, his thumb slowly sliding back and forth across the back of his hand as if to memorize the softness of them compared to five years from now. "You said you should've told me sooner..." Of course there was more to it, but he didn't want to throw it all at Kirk at once.

"Sounds reasonable," he murmured, and though he was partially joking, he mostly wasn't. Knowing what he did of magic and demons in this world, if he hadn't seen Sam in five years, believing he was dead, he wouldn't be able to immediately accept it as a truth, he thought. There would be questions, many, many questions.

The bed creaked quietly as Kirk shifted, moving to sit beside Sam rather than behind. He held his hand now, one leg curled under him as he touched their shoulders and watched him. That shadow between his brows remained, lips set in that thin line that signaled both anger and concern.

"Should have told you what sooner?" he pressed.

Hearing the tone in Kirk's voice has Sam glancing a look out of the corner of his eye, his own lips thinning, but in concern and nervousness. He doesn't turn to look at Jim fully, as if staring at those baby blues would make him lose his courage. Sam lets out a breath and licks his lips, squeezing Kirk's hand once more.

"You..." A pause, and another sigh, trying to figure out his words. "That you loved... love me?"

Oh.

Oh well that... that was something wasn't it?

His heart fluttered and tightened in his chest, his shoulders going stiff though his fingers didn't leave Sam's grasp. He had said that, had he? Well, maybe five years in the future he would, and considering he had thought Sam back from the dead, it felt like a thing one might say. But he had said told you sooner. Which meant... well, the present. Did he? Did he love Sam?

Slowly he lifted his gaze to look at the mage, taking in the sight of him, the way it made his gut twist to see him so distraught. More than anything he wanted to wrap his arms around Sam and make everything okay again. But that was the trouble with time - you couldn't go back, only forward (despite some crazy one-off spells to the contrary).

"That sounds like something I would say," he finally uttered after a heavy silence.

He didn't expect a reaction or response right away, but the silence still has his chest feeling tight, regretting slightly that he even uttered the words. The only calm he has for the moment is that Kirk doesn't pull his hand away, and honestly he doesn't dare let go, afraid that if he does Kirk will remove himself from the bed. Or worse.

Sam forces himself to take deep, slow, quiet breathes, trying to fight against the grip in his chest and the building anxiety. When Kirk speaks again it is almost deafening in comparison to the quiet they had been sitting in. The words make Sam huff, and he starts to move again, bringing up his free hand to rub at his face before brushing his fingers through his hair, which has him grimacing slightly at the sweat still clinging there from his sleep.

After a moment he lets himself turn a bit more to look at Jim better, but still not quite meeting his eyes. Honestly he doesn't know how to react to what Kirk said, not sure if it was simply a confirmation to what his future self had said, or... something else. A couple times he opens his mouth to start to say something, stops, then lets out a breath. Eventually he just shakes his head and pulls his hand away so that he could use both of them to rub at his face before resting it in his palms.

"Sorry. I... shouldn't have... have put you on the spot like that. I get that 'that was then and this is now'... things are different." It wasn't 'gospel truth', things could change, right?

Shocking as the declaration was, for the first time it wasn't something that sent him running like it had so many times before. That would feel to much like abandoning Samouel, and Samouel needed him right now. Needed all of them. He recognized trauma when he saw it, and regardless of his own personal issues, he couldn't leave Samouel to face this alone.

He knows he said the wrong thing the moment the words left his mouth, can hear it in the way Sam breathes and the grip on his fingers. He knows he said the wrong thing, but he had no other way to react. How were you supposed to react when you're told your future self confessed their love to your current lover on their death bed? It's all a bit much to take in, to say the least. And not just because it wasn't entirely inaccurate.

His heart dropped a bit when Samouel took his hand from his own, resisting the urge to take them back as he watches Sam rub his face. He licked his lips, wondering why his heart twisted so and his stomach jumped, warm with anxiety and butterflies.

"No, I - it's not putting me on the spot. I did ask," he said, carefully reaching out and putting his hand on Sam's thigh. "It's just taking a minute to process. I mean, they were my last words after all."

"I know," he says quietly behind his hands, keeping his face there for a moment before letting out a long sigh before lifting his head enough so that he could cup his hands together and rest his chin against them. "I know," he mumbles again, getting that it was a lot to take in; hearing about yourself dying and all that.

Still, hearing Kirk's response... it twisted something in him, and only because his future self had said something. Before the time traveling he had... no illusions that things between them would be like that, even if over time he had started to feel more. But what he experienced in the future, just meeting Kirk again and then watching him leave to die, leaving him with those words... Knowing that in five years... He had tried keeping it to himself, but now that it was out, there was some disappointment he would admit.

He doesn't pull away from Kirk's touch though, leaning into a bit as if soaking up what he could for as long as he could. "I can imagine it's a lot to take in. I mean... it has been keeping me up at night, trying to sort through things."

"I can imagine," he soothed, moving to wrap his arm around Sam instead, pulling the other in closer to him and resting his cheek against the top of his head. He wanted to do more for him, he truly did. But there had never been anything like this in his experience. Even the events with Elder Spock were not quite the same as this, and he had little contact with the man beyond a few encounters in which Elder Spock had very carefully controlled the information he let through. Not that a lot of it mattered - their futures were so divergent.

"Let's try to sort through one tonight then," he suggested. "What's been keeping you up most?" He had no idea if he could solve it or assuage his fears, but if they never talked about it, they would never get anywhere, would they?

Even while he leans into the comfort that Kirk is offering, it is obvious that he still rather stressed, but it was clear that Jim didn't exactly want to continue their current line of conversation. Not that he blames him, but- It wasn't worth forcing the subject; pressing it might only drive Kirk away and honestly that would put him in a worst state.

What was keeping him up the most? Sam gives a huff at that, but gives it honest thought. There are quite a number of things, but one of them he isn't quite ready to make known just yet - not tonight, not right now. "Right now I just keep seeing all of you die over and over again. Being a mage... the images are just more vivid when I dream, and the Fade distorts it... I can't just 'wake up' from it either."

Kirk frowned. He wished he better understood the Fade, so that he could offer Samouel real answers, but he was no mage, and as it was he had a hard time accepting magic as a concept, even a year on. He knew it worked, he didn't deny that, but overall he would say he was more or less ignorant of the subject, and what it meant for Samouel in certain areas, such as his dreams.

Gently Kirk brushed his fingers through Sam's hair, working down to the base of his skull and massaging. "Maybe tomorrow we should go to the gardens together for a bit. I was taught some techniques to deal with things like that, the dreams that won't leave you alone. I could try and teach them to you and perhaps they could help," he offered. "They help order your thoughts, so to speak, your emotions, and help you... well, organize them is probably a good word for it."

Now he turned his head, pressing a soft kiss to his temple. "For tonight, just remember - I'm alive and well and I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere." He shifted and cupped Sam's face, gently pushing his chin up so the other would look him in the eye. "I promise, Sam, I'm not going anywhere. I wouldn't leave you like that. You know that, don't you?"

Normally when Kirk offered to teach him something new, Sam was enthusiastic to see or learn what the space captain had to offer. Right now however he could only muster something that was something like a nod and a sigh, too tired and too frustrated to consider sitting out in the garden when the sun was out when all he wanted was sleep and not to see the expressions on peoples' faces right before they ran into the darkness to never return.

The kiss to his temple as him leaning into Kirk a bit more, soaking it in even as his brows furrowed as he tried to fight off tears that were forming at the corners of his eyes. Feeling his face being forced up gently - not like he even tried to fight it - his lips thinned slightly, trying harder to keep it together as he finally met Kirk's eyes.

All at once he seemed to buckle under all of it - the words, his emotions, staring into the other's eyes like this - letting out a shaky breath before bringing his hands up to cup James's face in turn and crash his lips against his.

Oh god, Samouel. He hated this. He hated not being able to really do anything for him. As he knew all to well, these feelings and the shadows that clawed at him had to be fought, in large part, on his own. He could provide all the support he could, say the right words and love him, but in the end he couldn't see the things that haunted him. And that killed him inside, especially since he understood all to well how deeply these wounds cut, and the fact that they never quite healed.

He wished he could scream and rage and tear the memories apart and take away the pain, but he couldn't. He couldn't and it twisted a knife in his gut knowing that. It bit deep that he couldn't help Samouel bear this burden, not really - just prop him up so he didn't quite collapse.

The sudden kiss caught him off guard, his eyes widened at the hard crash of their lips. His body moved on its own, wrapping around him and tugging him in tight and close, practically crushing Samouel to his chest. His lips shifted to mold to the mage's, letting Samouel take as much as he wanted, as much as he needed from him.

Another time he would have taken much joy out of catching Kirk off guard, taken advantage of it - for the both of them of course - but right now he doesn't care about that. All he cares about is that Jim is kissing him back, holding onto him tightly.

He wasn't going anywhere. He was here, with him, alive and well.

The words repeat in his head over and over as he sat there kissing Kirk, twisting in his embrace to fit in closer. Eventually the need to breathe pulls him back, only slightly though, refusing to give up the space he currently occupied, gasping heavily against Kirk's lips as he does so. Once he's caught his breath, Sam leans in to kiss him again, slower this time. Softly. Carefully. Finding different places to put his lips.

Feeling Samouel's cues, Kirk shifted his body, allowing the other to press as closely as he needed to feel safe, to feel sure that Kirk was real and alive and there. He knew how badly one could need that touch, that physical reassurance because your mind wasn't trusty worthy anymore, and reality was often so very cruel.

Kirk said nothing when they pulled away, just breathing their with him, chest bumping against Sam's. He met the new kiss tenderly, moaning as Sam explored him in a way they had not since their first night together, when their touches and kisses had been tentative and new and excited. If only this carried the later two.

Wrapping his arms firm around Sam, Kirk slowly laid back on the bed, bringing Sam down atop him as their mouths continued their explorations.

Once back on the bed the new position has Sam wriggling out of Kirk's grasp, needing to re-position how he was laying, all the while refusing to stop kissing his lover. The sheets twisted and tangled during the process, but eventually Sam found what he wanted so that he could kiss Kirk more comfortably; straddling his thighs.

Focusing on James like this, he could momentarily forget the nightmare, the images. However it did bring up some other ones, remembering how the rest of his first meeting with the future Kirk had gone. Along with the noises Jim was making at this point of time it wasn't long before there was a fair bit of blush to Sam's cheeks. It certainly made his kisses more hungry, but beyond that he kept them slow, thoroughly tasting his lover at this time.

It wasn't hard to fall into the press of kisses and the weight of Samouel, to let the other move him as he saw fit and take what position he pleased. He had always been that sort of lover, and wanted nothing but what would give Sam pleasure. Or, in this case, relief. He knew, more intimately than Samouel might know, how much something like this might be needed to soothe the soul.

Slowly his hands wandered across the shoulders and back he knew so well, gliding down to grasp his thighs and knead them. He met Sam's pace and did not ask for more, letting out soft, quiet sounds of pleasure as they kissed in a way they had not since their first night together. He pulled back for air, sucking at Sam's lower lip gently before nuzzling at him, pliant to his wishes.

[Continued here]

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I watched you in another life

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